by P. Jameson
Whether she was right about the accident or not, he wanted to help her feel better. To reassure her. “You know what, you’re right. I should be more careful.”
Her eyebrows went up in surprise, before a mask of indifference covered up her reaction.
“In the future, I will be. Lesson learned.”
She nodded. “Right. Okay, then. Looks like they need you over there.”
Trager glanced over his shoulder to see a policeman talking to several workers in hardhats, but his wolf wanted answers. Who had hurt her? He’d kill them. What was her name? He was drooling for his mate’s name. Where did she live? No, that one was better left unknown. If he knew where she lived, he’d be too tempted to go to her. Bad enough, he knew where she worked.
“What’s your name?” he asked, just as she turned to walk away.
Her gaze was calculating, but finally she answered. “Sam.”
“Sam, who?”
“Sam Adams.” Sam. Short for Samantha? Pretty name.
He smiled. “I’m Trager. Trager Rowland.” For some reason telling her his name felt so… intimate. He hoped he wasn’t blushing.
“Great. Nice to meet you, Trager.” She smiled tightly. “I should be going now.”
Yes, he needed her to go. His wolf was rumbling at her nearness. But he didn’t want her to. He didn’t want any distance between them. Not even the few feet difference from where he was to where she stood.
“Excuse me, sir.” The officer had come to take his statement. Trager glared at him, and when he turned back to tell Samantha bye, she was already out of earshot. It was only then, when she vanished around a corner, that he realized she’d given him the name of a beer.
A Mate’s Denial, available now from Amazon
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