Chapter 10-Rosalind
He asked me out.
I mean, he texted me and asked me about going to dinner. With him.
So, it sounds like he did, right?
Holy.
Crap.
What is happening right now?
My inner Sow—my Bear—loses her damn mind.
She does these delighted little backflips inside me, all joy and smug certainty, like she’s been waiting for this exact moment and is now deeply pleased with herself.
It shouldn’t be such a big deal.
I mean, objectively, it’s not.
People ask other people to eat food together all the time.
That’s normal. That’s human. Right?
Except it’s more than that. More than just people sharing a necessary meal.
Because he’s picking me up.
Which makes it a date-date.
Even if he’s picking me up at my day job, which is not exactly candlelight-and-wine vibes, but still.
The intent matters.
The effort matters.
And the fact that my Bear knows the difference makes my pulse skitter.
I glance around the common room at Furry Smiles, the nonprofit where I work when I’m not on Clan duty.
Dogs laze on oversized beds, tails thumping lazily as volunteers move through the space.
A tabby cat is draped over the back of a couch like she owns the place—which, frankly, she does.
Furry Smiles takes in unwanted dogs and cats from overcrowded shelters and trains them as therapy animals.
They work with the elderly. With veterans. With children’s hospitals.
The name still makes me grin every time I say it.
It’s good work. Deeply satisfying work.
The kind that leaves your heart tired in a good way at the end of the day.
My thoughts drift—unbidden—to Minx.
The old German shepherd with clouded eyes and a stubborn streak a mile wide who was my first best friend in this world.
She never left my father’s side. Not once.
Daddy came home from the Gulf War different. That’s what Mom used to say.
Quieter. Tighter.
Like he was always listening for something no one else could hear.
Shifters were a secret, but certain branches of the government know.
They always have.
Shifter units have been quietly deployed in just about every war since the Revolution.
My father never talked about it—not really—but I knew enough to understand the weight he carried.
Minx was his anchor.
When Mom passed, he clung to that dog like she was the last solid thing in the world.
And when Minx finally died, losing her was almost as bad as losing his mate all over again.
That’s how we found this program. Together.
Daddy volunteered here with me until he got sick. Until last fall, when I lost him too.
Now it’s mostly just me.
Sure, I still have the Clan.
I still have the work. And all of that matters—it truly does.
But this assignment? My first one working as an Enforcer for the Clan?
It hits all those things about my life I’d rather not think about hard.
Playing Hope’s friend. Slipping into her life. Getting close to her and Miles and—especially—Honor?
It’s doing something to me.
It’s making me believe things I shouldn’t.
Like maybe I could be that person.
Someone with friends.
With family.
With something that’s mine.
Those are dangerous thoughts.
Honor is still human.
And it’s still my job to protect him.
To keep the Shifter world hidden.
Wanting him doesn’t change that.
“Yo, Rosalind—someone’s here for you.”
Timmy’s voice pulls me out of my spiral. He’s one of the newer hires. Clan mate. All elbows and enthusiasm.
I snap my gaze to the window.
And there he is.
Honor D’Amato, standing just outside, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to contain nervous energy that’s vibrating off him in waves.
Big. Solid. Real.
My heart stutters.
“He’s really here,” I whisper, barely aware of Timmy’s curious stare.
My Bear purrs, low and pleased.
And for one reckless, terrifying moment, I let myself believe—maybe this isn’t just an assignment.
Maybe this is the beginning of something I’ve wanted my whole life.
I don’t dawdle.
The second I see Honor heading for the front door, all tall nerves and quiet determination, I’m on my feet.
I grab my sweater, scoop up my phone—and promptly fumble my keys, which clatter to the floor and skitter under the edge of my desk.
“Shit,” I mutter, crouching.
“Hey—lemme get that for you.”
His voice washes over me like a warm wave.
Low. Steady. Too close.
I freeze for half a second before reaching again, and his fingertips brush mine as he picks up my keys.
Electric.
That’s the only word for it.
We both glance up at the same time, breath catching in perfect, terrible unison. The air between us snaps tight, charged like a storm about to break.
“So,” he says, clearly grasping for normalcy as he straightens and looks around.
His gaze sweeps over the room, my desk, the dog beds where one elderly English bulldog and two outrageously fat tabbies are sitting and staring at us like judgmental statues.
“You, uh… come here often?”
I snort despite myself. “Ha. Ha.”
He grins, relieved, and I reluctantly pull my hand back.
The loss of contact is noticeable.
We stand there for a beat too long.
Honor hands me my keys—but not before his grin widens at the flashy purple keychain dangling from them.
“Nice,” he says. “Very on brand.”
I roll my eyes, cheeks warming.
“You like sushi?”
“Love it,” I reply instantly. “There isn’t much I don’t eat,” I add with a self-deprecating shrug, because apparently my mouth has decided honesty is the best policy tonight.
Hello. Big girl.
“Good,” he says. “Me either.”
And then—oh sweet stars above—his gaze dips.
Just briefly.
Just enough.
My stomach flips.
Does he mean food?
Or… oh. Wow.
Okay. Gulp.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat, “are you gonna show me?”
Show him? Show him—what?
My brain short-circuits entirely.
I feel heat rush up my neck as a dozen wildly inappropriate possibilities collide in my head.
“I—what?” I squeak internally, while my face does something that is definitely not dignified.
He blinks, then chuckles softly, clearly realizing how that sounded.
“Your purple Jeep,” he clarifies. “I’m dying to get a ride in that baby.”
“Oh!” I breathe, mortification blazing hot. “Right. The Jeep.”
He laughs—low and warm—and it does something dangerous to my knees.
As we walk outside, he places a light hand at the small of my back.
It’s brief. Respectful.
Intimate.
My Bear purrs again like a big ol’ housecat.
“Rosie?”
The nickname hits me square in the chest.
“Yeah?” I answer, forcing myself to sound calm when my pulse is anything but.
Did he really just—?
He smiles down at me, eyes steady and earnest.
“Just wanted you to know—if there’s ever anything else you want to show me? I’m all yours. Okay?”
My breath stutters.
The world narrows to him.
To the promise in his voice.
To the warmth of his presence beside me.
And the flood currently swelling inside my panties.
“Okay,” I manage.
And somewhere deep inside, my Bear settles—satisfied, patient, and very, very hopeful.