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she didn't care to dwell on, Charlotte crossed her legs tightly and stared at them. No matter how hard she crossed her legs, it did nothing to diminish the ache of strange longing in her core. A longing that threatened to expose a little-used portion of her heart.
    No, no, no .
    Despite a master’s and her fancy education, as Bart often put it, she just didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on.

Chapter 3
    Bart glanced around the pub, on his second Molson Canadian, already wishing he was on his third.
    She hadn’t come.
    Oh, his family reunion was in full swing and everyone seemed to be having a good time, but the one person he wanted to see hadn’t shown her face, or even the tips of those granny boots. He rolled his eyes at his juvenile eagerness. Jesus, he was supposed to be mingling with his pack, not dreaming about romancing Charlotte. And yet, ever since turfing out her pally wally Dylan, he’d thought of nothing but her.
    Was she angry at him? Relieved? Grateful?
    Damn, he could handle almost anything but her gratitude. She’d been grateful when he’d sat at her side after she’d been attacked a few months ago. She always appeared grateful whenever he did little things for her like hanging paintings in her cabin, or walking her home after a late shift.
    He didn’t want her gratitude anymore.
    He wanted her rapture. He leaned on the pub bar, pretty sure he wouldn’t be witnessing her rapture, or even her head peeking around the corner, tonight. And what did it matter? Her shiny, new job was waiting for her and she’d disappear come autumn.
    Still, after learning about Jason Burns and his escape, he’d feel a whole lot better if Charlotte were in his line of sight. Maybe he should check on her…
    A soft hand settled on his shoulder. “Puppy, are you okay? You look more pensive than usual. Are you getting enough protein in your diet? Because you know what I always say. ‘Lettuce is good for rabbits, but a wolf needs meat.’”
    He turned and forced a grin onto his face for his mom. “I’m fine. Just a little distracted. Oh, and could you not call me ‘Puppy’ in public? I’m thirty-one years old, Mother. I stopped being a pup a long time ago.”
    She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’ll always be my puppy, until some other woman steals you away from me. Speaking of women, where’s Ch—?”
    “You look very nice tonight,” he said, cutting her off. “Is that a new shirt?”
    “Do you like it? I sewed it myself.” Her eyes lit up as he mentioned the blouse. Shirley Cairo had dressed up for the reunion. For his mother, it meant wearing every color of the rainbow at once. A petite woman like Charlotte, her personality made up for any lost inches. Her brown eyes danced over a blouse with red and purple swatches all over it. A black skirt, violet leggings, and red heels finished off her crazy ensemble. The longer he looked at his mother, the easier it became for Bart to smile.
    His dad didn’t seem to mind her loud clothing. Joseph Cairo snuck up behind her, winking at Bart, and tackled his mate for a vigorous nuzzle. When he finally let her go, he smiled at their son. “Doesn’t your mother look like a pretty picture?”
    Bart elbowed her gently. “Yeah. Let’s hang her on the wall.”
    “Oh, you two,” Shirley crowed. “Always ganging up on me.” The amused arch to her brow clearly showed she loved every minute of their teasing. “I’m going to go flirt with the bartender to see if he’ll give me another Bloody Caesar.”
    “Don’t flirt too much, woman,” Joseph warned in jest. “Or I’ll come over there and remind you who’s your Alpha.”
    She sashayed off, wiggling for her mate’s benefit. His father watched her walk away, a dreamy cast to his gaze. Bart could not have been more appalled if they’d dropped to the floor and had sex right there. And he’d walked in on them by mistake a couple times over the years, and remembered well the particular lurch of his gut.