Chapter 4
LOGAN
She’s so pretty.
That’s the first thing my Alpha brain thought of when I entered the room and saw Maeve for the first time.
She was so pretty, she smelled like heaven, and I struggled to form a coherent sentence.
Ivan had told me about her—had even warned me about her.
She’s something else, he had said. She’ll take up space in your brain when you least expect it.
I had no idea what he meant by that until I scented her in the building.
Sweet chamomile with the slightest hint of brown sugar underneath.
Not too sweet—just the right balance of comfort and warmth.
And then, I saw her in for the first time.
Violet hair, brown eyes, and an energy that I wasn’t expecting.
She was a whirlwind of life in front of me, full of passion about the same creatures I care about.
And then I just…stared at her.
And scolded her.
Every single word came out wrong. I want to take back every inflection I used.
She must think I’m the world’s biggest asshole.
“What the hell was that earlier?” Ivan asks as we perform closing duties.
“What?”
“You talked to her like she was a child,” he says slowly. “You can’t do that. She’s sensitive.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I grumble. “I was just surprised that she would jump to a wild conclusion about a perfectly healthy cat. She caught me off guard.”
But there’s a clawing sensation in my chest, like I failed a test I didn’t even know I was taking.
“And how many times have we dealt with people like that?” Ivan pushes. “We saw that all the time when I was training with you. Overly anxious people that care about their pets. But you just…malfunctioned around her. Like it was your first day talking to people.”
“Why are you so worried about how I interacted with her?” I snap.
“Because you hurt her feelings,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I want you two to get along.”
I remain silent, frowning.
“Look, I know how you are with animals, and why you do what you do,” Ivan adds.
“I know you prefer animals over people. That passion you have for them? Maeve’s the loudest advocate we have for these cats.
And you want to be on her good side. She’s done so much for this place.
Sure, she doesn’t own it—and Piper and Blair are incredible—but Maeve adds that extra something to the rescue.
I don’t know how to explain it,” he mumbles, fixing his attention on the exam table.
It’s only then that I notice the slight flush to his face.
Oh.
“You like her,” I say slowly.
Duh.
How oblivious could I possibly be?
He chuckles weakly. “Yeah, I do. And I was hoping…” he runs a hand through his hair and groans in frustration, “look, I don’t know how to say this without making it weird.
But you’re the smartest guy I know, and I respect the hell out of you, and she’s…
the best person I know. So…ah…I would appreciate it if you two got along. ”
I almost smile. Ivan and I have remained in contact since he finished his training with me, but I never knew he thought so highly of me.
I’m humbled.
I nod. “I agree. I’m sorry if I made that entire exchange awkward.”
But I’m naturally an awkward person. Like Ivan said, I’ve always been more comfortable around animals than people.
Usually I don’t entirely ruin a first impression that badly, though.
“So, maybe try apologizing to her tomorrow?” Ivan adds. “I can give you her coffee order. That would be a start.”
“Please do.”
The drive to my house is uneventful except for the rain that beats along the windshield.
Thoughts of her plague my mind, to the point that I can’t even turn on the radio to listen to music.
I can’t stop replaying that look of hurt on her face.
I sounded cold, calculated, and heartless when I spoke to her.
Even my inner Alpha, who barely bothers to make his presence known, has been on high alert.
Comfort Omega.
Soothe Omega.
But there’s no one to comfort or soothe, since we barely spoke a few words to each other.
So why the hell are my primal instincts kicking in?
It’s been years since any of that has happened.
One would think that by forty-fucking-years old I would be mated or at least dating.
I’ve given up on scent matches. If it hasn’t happened by now, it never will. It’s taken a long time for me to accept it, and some days, the knowledge still hurts.
But I’ll be damned if I get in the way of Ivan and Maeve being together.
I’ll apologize to her with the coffee tomorrow, force myself to forget about the awkwardness of today, and ignore the feelings that try to bubble to the surface when I think about her.
Yes. That’s exactly what I’ll do, and everything will go back to normal, and I can focus on my job.
I swear I can smell her in the air, though, even as I pull into my driveway. The ghost of chamomile leaves follows me through the front door of my house, even when I kick off my shoes and head into the living room.
“Mrow.”
A long, mournful wail echoes from the hallway to my bedroom, the sound of a feline proudly presenting its kill.
It should not ricochet off the walls this dramatically, though.
My house is too big.
“Bring it here, Trooper,” I sigh, lying on the couch, my head propped against a pillow. The medical journals sit on the coffee table next to me, but for some reason, my head is too tired for my evening reading.
There is a slight dip in the couch, then strong white paws press into my stomach, and a damp plush toy is dropped onto my chest.
“Thanks, buddy,” I grimace. “Why did this one have to be full of drool, though?” I sigh.
The teal-colored catnip mouse is just another reminder of her.
Furs and Purrs is stitched in white on the mouse, and I toss it across the living room as I huff in defeat.
Of course, Trooper’s newest toy would be his favorite, courtesy of Ivan. He had given me some Furs and Purrs merch the other day, and now a teal mug, a cat toy, and a black and teal sweatshirt sit in my house.
With a trill, the cat scampers off, his missing leg not stopping him from thundering across the hardwood floor.
Stella makes her appearance shortly after, daintily and quietly perching on the top of the couch above my head. She curls into a tiny, fluffy grey ball, her chest rising and falling slowly in contentment.
It’s a typical evening. Usually, I’ll have the local news on in the background, prepare a cup of tea (chamomile—how ironic) and read on the couch until I fall asleep.
But tonight?
Tonight is different.
Tonight is unsettling.
I stare up at the vaulted ceiling, overwhelmed with how big—and empty—my home is.
This place has four bedrooms, and for what?
I only use one. The other I turned into an office, and the other two belong to the cats.
“Why the hell did I buy a packhouse?” I ask to no one in particular.
A soft trill is my only reply.
“Thanks,” I grumble.
The cats don’t have any answers, and neither do I.