Page 7 of How I Met My Mate

“Why not?” Dax stares at me blankly, and then a look of dawning comprehension crosses his face. “Oh…fated mate?”

“Maybe,” I grit out.

His brow furrows as he considers this. “She is not politically advantageous.”

“You think?” I snarl.

He nods. “Yes. That is why I said it.” Sarcasm just bounces off of Dax’s thick skull.

“Do you believe in fated mates?”

Dax shrugs. “My parents didn’t. They believed in useful mating alliances, and duty to the pack. I’ve seen wolf shifters fall for each other instantly, though, in a manner which seems to bypass all practical reasoning such as political considerations, so it seems as if it’s possible.”

I shake my head in exasperation. Focus, focus, focus…“I remember what I was going to say! While you’re getting the list of who was working at the café every time somebody spontaneously shifted, you also need to find out what every person who’s been affected ate and drank before they shifted. Go!” Seriously, that is so obvious, so Investigation 101, that I can’t believe I had a hard time remembering it.

Stupid fate mate bond, turning my brain to oatmeal.

He nods and stalks off, and the crowds part for him. He’s got a grim, no-nonsense energy that very few people want to mess with. I’d like to say that I’m sending him off so he can hurry up and start investigating for the sake of the pack, and that’s partly true, but mostly I just need to spend time with my fated mate right now before my wolf explodes out of my skin.

Chapter Four

Alexis

Cole crosses the pathway towards me. He’s laser focused on me, and I feel like a deer being scoped out by a lion. A sexy, sexy lion.

He stops in front of me, looming over me. That easy, devastating smile makes my pulse jump. “You had a long drive today. Why don’t we have dinner at my place, then I’ll take you back to your hotel and you can get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we can sit down and talk about what you’ll need for your story.”

I drink the last few sips of my latte, enjoying the caress of cinnamon sweetness on my tongue, and consider his offer.

On the one hand, this is a laughably transparent attempt to distract me with biceps, wickedly gleaming eyes and a mouth made for sin.

On the other hand, I did fly in from Indiana and then rent a car and drive three hours from the closest airport. I’m kind of wiped out. A home-cooked meal and an evening with a handsome man who looks at me like I’m a delicious dessert sounds tempting.

Even if those heated looks that he keeps caressing me with are fake.

I hate feeling like a total pushover. I need to put him in his place, at least a little.

I cross one leg over the other and give him a look. “That’s very generous of you,” I say sweetly. “Is this part of the pack’s hospitality policy, or are you just trying to woo me so I don’t uncover all of your deep, dark secrets?”

His grin widens — slow, wicked, and entirely too self-assured. “Can’t it be both?”

Oh, for crying out loud. Of course it can.

My brain helpfully supplies an image of those strong hands roaming over my body, tearing my clothing like it’s tissue, and I feel a wave of heat flooding over me.

Focus, Alexis. You are a strong, independent woman and you are here to do a shifter.

Not shifter. Job. You are here to do a job!

Why is my stupid subconscious trying to sabotage me?

“Jury’s still out,” I manage, standing and brushing imaginary crumbs off my jeans.

“Don’t think too long,” he says, amusement rumbling low in his voice. “Mom’s pot roast is waiting for us back at the cabin.”

Wait. His mom’s pot roast?

That’s actually kind of sweet.