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Letting him down? That was something of an understatement, but whatever. “You already apologized. Twice, actually.” He’d gotten his first apology in the same breath that she announced they were over. He’d gotten another the night she begged him to take her back.
She licked her lips. “I regret that things didn’t work out between us.”
He shrugged. “It just wasn’t meant to be.” Tate looked beyond her and caught sight of Havana heading to the grocery store with Aspen. His pulse jumped, and his cat went from irritated to keyed-up in an instant.
As if she felt Tate’s stare, Havana paused in the shop doorway and glanced around. Yeah, that was his girl—alert as any apex predator. Their gazes locked, and he’d swear his heart squeezed. Her eyes gleamed with … something. Something that made his cat purr. But then she looked from him to Ashlynn, her expression closed down, and she headed into the store with Aspen.
“Is everything okay?” Ashlynn followed his gaze.
An odd elemental urge to hunt and track began to beat in his blood. “I’ve got to go,” he told Ashlynn, his gaze still on the shop.
“Could we maybe have that dinner I mentioned later today? There are things you need to know. How about we meet at the Steakhouse?”
She was truly living in a fictional world if she thought they were going to strike up some sort of friendship. “I’m not interested in having dinner with you. I’m not interested in talking with you about the past. I’m not interested in us being friends or hanging out.”
“Please, Tate, one dinner. It’s important. I gave you the space and time you evidently needed. Now I’m back.”
“Yeah, you are. But I don’t see how that has anything to do with me on a personal level. I’m your Alpha; you’re a member of my pride—that’s it.”
“You won’t make time for a woman you partially imprinted on?”
He felt his brows snap together. “You and I didn’t imprint on each other at the fuck all.” Thin threads of the bond had once existed in the air between them, connecting them in a small way, but those threads had never formed something. It was the difference between a roll of cotton and a T-shirt. The roll carried the potential to become something. The tee was a creation, formed from an endless amount of threads. “There was no bond. Only the potential of it. You know that. And now I really need to go.”
“One dinner, Tate.”
“Jesus, Ashlynn, let it go. It’s not gonna happen.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is this because of that devil shifter you’re fucking?” she asked, a sneer in his voice.
His cat rumbled a growl. “Careful, Ashlynn,” warned Tate, his voice coated in a silky menace.
“You used to call me Ash. You used to always have time for me.”
“Yeah, I made a lot of mistakes with you. I won’t make them again.” With that, he stalked off, the visceral urge to track Havana now beating faster in his blood. He didn’t question it. Just followed it, egged on by his cat. So Tate wasn’t at all pleased when a voice called out his name and delayed him.
Feeling Tate’s gaze boring into her back, Havana stepped into the grocery store, ignoring the petty jealousy swirling in her belly. Women tried to talk and flirt with him all the time, but she hadn’t let it bother her before because she’d known he had too much integrity to cheat or sleazily flirt back. But now that they were no longer seeing each other, there was no need for him to ignore any females who came onto him. And that bothered her far too much.
Of course, there was no saying that the mystery woman he was talking to outside was in fact making a move on him, but Havana’s jealous streak still didn’t like it. In fact, neither did her devil—she might not be feeling particularly warm to him right now, but she still didn’t like the thought of him with another.
Well, she and Havana would just have to learn how to deal with it, wouldn’t they? He’d inevitably find himself a new fuck-buddy at some point. And Havana would not wish all manner of diseases and allergies on the woman. Nope.
Havana grabbed a shopping cart while Aspen hooked a metal basket over her arm. There was a whooshing sound as the door behind them opened.
“Ah, Havana,” said a voice in a thick Russian accent as a woman sidled up to them. “I heard about your attack, I told my James we must visit you, but here you are. You are fine, yes?”
Havana smiled at Tate’s aunt, a female wolverine shifter who was mated to Vinnie’s brother. Full of sass and attitude and tenacity, Valentina Devereaux was beyond awesome. Havana totally wanted to be her. “I’m good, thanks.”
Valentina looked from her to Aspen. “This auction business sickens me.”
