Page 20 of Bear’s True Mate

I narrowed my eyes. “Wait, do you?”

“I’m just saying, don’t knock it till you try it. Paranormal romance might surprise you.”

“I’ll stick to the real world, thanks.”

“The real world.” He chuckled. “Okay, but that sounds boring.”

I kicked his chair. He laughed, and it was loud—just like everything else about him—but I found that I didn’t mind it.

Actually, I liked it.

His gaze locked with mine, and for a split second, I swore he could tell what I was thinking. Something in his eyes warmed, and suddenly I felt pulled toward him, like a magnet was drawing me in.

The lights inside flickered, then came on.

“Power’s back,” he said, blinking and tearing his eyes away from mine.

Clearly, he’d felt that charge building between us too, right?

“Looks like.” I stood and motioned toward my door. “I should probably head in.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight. Thanks again for the ride.”

“Night, no problem.”

Inside, I set my wineglass in the sink and stood in the kitchen for a long moment, staring at nothing. The moment where we’d been staring at one another filled my head, and I realized it for what it was—a near kiss. I wrote about that scene happening between two people in my stories all the time. My hands lifted to cover my eyes as I pulled in a deep breath.

What was I doing?

I shouldn’t be flirting with him. I shouldn’t be enjoying his company as much as I did. I shouldn’t find him so damn attractive either.

I was here to write my book.

That was it.

Write the book, meet my deadline, and then figure out the rest of my life once that was done.

Nothing else.

I turned off the kitchen light and went to bed. Maribel’s voice echoed in my head as soon as I lay down.

The hardest part isn’t finding someone safe. It’s believing you deserve safety.

8

NOLAN

The first thing I did when I woke up was reach for my phone and put on music.

The second thing I did was turn it down.

I didn’t even realize I’d done it until I was standing in the kitchen, pouring coffee, and noticed the volume was at four instead of my usual fourteen. My hand had gone to the dial out of habit, but instead of cranking it up the way I always did, I’d dialed it back automatically, like some part of my brain had rewritten the routine overnight.

I glared at the speaker. Then I reached out and turned it up to seven.

Two minutes later, I turned it back down to four.