Safe With Them

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Charlotte

Every day, I wake up with the best intentions, but once twenty to the hour rolls around, I’m carrying my kid to the car under one arm, Superman-style, with both of our bags tossed over one shoulder and my cold coffee sloshing around my to-go mug.

There’s nothing like the exhaustion that comes from working nights while having a child who is awake all day.

Second shift isn’t even that late.

I try to schedule my hours from three or four to eleven p.m. Even that’s rough when I don’t get home and settle in until after midnight, but the best time to make money at my job is during evenings and weekends, since that’s when our clients are off work and have time to come into the clinic.

By the time I eat something, shower, and clean up, it’s usually two or three in the morning.

Lukas pops up at seven or eight, ready to tackle life, while I barely feel human.

Then we get to do it all over again the next day.

If he were one of those kids who likes to rise with the sun, I probably would have had a mental breakdown by now.

I’ve heard from some of the other moms that their kids wake up at five or six a.m. There’s no way I would survive that, but he goes to bed later than normal because of our schedule.

During spring and summer, we usually head to the park so he can burn off some of his never-ending energy, but it’s in that awful sleeting and snowing part of the year. Still, we have to get out of the house and do something, or I’ll fall asleep on the couch while he’s watching his shows.

“Don’t buckle me in,” Lukas says, kicking his feet as I try to do exactly that. “No! Please, Mommy!”

“Sorry, Lucky,” I say, calling him by his nickname. “If you want to make it to story time at the library, we gotta go now.”

I kiss him on the forehead and scramble to get his door closed as a chilling gust of wind cuts through the parking lot.

Dammit, I grew up in Florida.

One thing I’m still struggling to get used to is winter in Boston. I’ve been here for three years, and it never seems to get any easier.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles, and I walk around the back of my SUV, instead of the front, as I head to the driver’s door.

I try to be covert about checking for anything out of place, but nothing catches my eye.

I’ll never be a super spy.

I’m just a run-of-the-mill toddler mom.

Nothing exciting to see here.

But I do try to be extra aware of my surroundings.

It could be the difference between knowing someone is after us and finding out when it’s already too late.

Trusting my instincts has kept me alive for this long. When my gut tells me something, I don’t ignore it. It’s how I know when it’s time to end a session with an alpha at my job at the pheromone clinic, and when not to see a client again.

Women are taught to be polite and not to offend someone unnecessarily. That used to be me, back before life proved what a terrible idea it was to be cordial at my own detriment.

I’m not abrasive or angry for no reason.

I just don’t go out of my way to make strangers comfortable anymore. It’s actually made my life a whole lot more enjoyable.

The weird feeling in my stomach that I can’t shake is responsible for why I drive around in random circles, checking my rearview mirror the entire time, instead of heading straight for the library.

My head stays on a consistent swivel.

Am I extra paranoid today, or is something really off?

Nothing sticks out, and no one follows me, so I drive toward our destination.

Lucky talks my ear off from the back seat. If there’s one thing about my child, it’s that he never runs out of things to say.

“…I hope it’s dinosaurs!” He finally takes a breath, and I smile at him in the rearview mirror as I wait at a stoplight. He pretty much butchered the word dinosaurs, making it sound more like dino roars, but it’s cute. I’m going to miss when he gets the hang of all the words he mangles.

“Oh yeah, have you guys read a book about dinosaurs yet?” I know they haven’t, but I like to get his brain working whenever possible.

“Hmm,” he says, patting his chin with his pointer finger. “Nope. It’s gonna have a T-Rex. I bet it does! Him can eat the bad guys up. Chomp, chomp, chomp.”

I laugh, focusing back on the road.

He only just turned three, but he talked early, and he hasn’t stopped chattering since. Even his pediatrician was blown away with his vocabulary at his three-year checkup.

I might be biased, but I think he’s a genius in the making.

Okay, he doesn’t have perfect grammar, but I can always understand what he means. Although, that’s probably because I talk to him all day every day.

Lucky takes off to the library door as I’m still trying to get my keys put away with the heavy bag of books digging into my forearm. I should have grabbed him when I had the chance, but he’s fast. Fortunately, we already made it onto the sidewalk. He still has a lecture coming his way, though.

A man comes around the corner, heading to the library doors. He has a thick wool overcoat with a hoodie underneath. The hood is pulled up, so I can’t make out his face.

He makes it to Lucky before I do, and I frown.

If he opens that door, Lucky will bolt.

But I have a bigger concern.

The outfit isn’t unusual for winter in Boston, but it freaks me out not being able to see the man’s face.

He turns toward me and waves, squatting down next to Lucky.

An exhale of pure relief leaves my lips. Oh, thank God. He’s not someone from my old life.

That would have been truly disastrous.

I don’t know the man’s name, but he’s familiar.

We’ve been coming to the library three or four times a week since the temperature dropped, and the last few times we’ve been in, I’ve seen him. He always has a table full of books spread out around his laptop. While we’ve never spoken, he has smiled at me a few times.

I’m not sure what he says to Lucky, but he nods and hikes a thumb at me, like maybe he’s suggesting they wait for me before opening the door.

Now that the terror has worn off, I get myself in gear, striding forward at a rapid pace.

I quirk an eyebrow at my kid. “You know better than to run off like that.”

“I wanna go in!” he says, his head bobbling up and down. His messy blond hair falls into his eyes, and he shoves it back with a huff. “Mommy, let’s go.”

God, I swear.

Children are like tiny dictators.

The man holds the strap of his messenger bag and pushes to his feet as he readjusts his glasses with his other hand. “After you.”

A strange fluttering hits my stomach as he holds out an arm, gesturing that I should go first.

He’s cute.

He’s on the slender side, I know that much from seeing him without his jacket on previous occasions.

A few days’ worth of stubble lines his strong jaw, and he has short light-brown hair that’s straight and a bit longer on top than on the sides. There are small laugh lines around his brown eyes, and I have no idea why I find that attractive.

Maybe it’s the way he smiles at Lucky as he tries with all his might to tug open the heavy library door.

“Ugh, I can’t get it,” Lucky grumbles.

Damn, I kinda wish I knew the stranger’s name.

Mystery man is handsome, but in an unassuming way.

The first few times I saw him, I thought he was okay-looking but not drop-dead gorgeous or anything.

A normal, regular-looking guy.

The large black-framed glasses kinda give him a shy or nerdy vibe, which I’ve never been particularly drawn to before. Though in the past, my taste in men has led me nowhere but directly to trouble.

Maybe a sweet guy with glasses, who smiles at my kid and visits the library, would be a nice change of pace…

Except, getting close to me would be dangerous for anyone, and sadly, it’s not worth the risk.

I drive a little farther to get to this branch of the library because it has an epic kid’s section. There are puzzles and games, computers, and other activities. I also like that I can peep around for books for myself while Lukas is listening to story time.

Some of the parents stay and supervise, but they have helpers, so overwhelmed moms and dads can take a small break and enjoy the quiet while browsing for a book they’ll never actually get to finish before the due date.

That could just be me.

Sometimes there are slow times at work between appointments.

On those days, I can sit in the break room and binge read until I get a walk-in or my next scheduled appointment comes in.

Only, I’d much rather be fully booked during my shift.

If I’m not with a client, I’m not earning money.

That means I’m wasting time that I could be spending with Lucky.

Leaning against one of the end caps of the shelves, I split my attention between the blurb of the book I grabbed and watching Lukas. He bounces on his knees, never truly staying still, but he follows along with rapt fascination.

He’s a busy kid.

I think that’s probably all toddlers and preschoolers, though. The world is still new and exciting, and they have limitless energy.

Well, until they get overtired.

Once they reach that level of exhaustion, they crash hard.

“That’s a good one,” mystery man says, stepping around from behind me and coming to a stop at my side. “Do you like thrillers?”

“Mysteries and thrillers are my favorite when I don’t have the brain space to decipher the politics and extensive world-building of fantasy.” I chuckle softly. “Also, I get so wrapped up in getting answers that I tend to finish them, which is rare these days.”

“I can only imagine how difficult it is to find time to read with a child,” he says, keeping his voice low.

He must have dropped his jacket at a table, and he also pulled the hood on his sweatshirt down. His light brown hair is messy, sticking up in a million directions. Somehow it fits his face—and his energy.

“Oh, I read at least two books a night.” I smile, nodding to the children’s area. “He’s bossy, and one story is never enough.”

“Ah, yes, my mother used to read to my brothers and me when we were little.” He laughs.

“Other times, she would create elaborate stories with us as the main characters. We even got animal sidekicks to help us on our quest to rescue the princess. Those are some of my fondest memories of her.” He bumps his shoulder against mine and turns into me, holding out his hand. “Cormac.”

I grin, moving the book to my forearm to offer my hand. “Charlotte.”

He has a firm grip, but not obnoxiously so. Some men squeeze almost to the point of pain. Who knows why, maybe they want to prove they’ve got a strong handshake or to assert dominance.

My nostrils flare, breathing in his scent. I’m not sure exactly what that smell is, but it’s earthy with hints of fresh rain.

He smells like petrichor.

Damn.

That’s one of my favorite scents.

When I was a kid, I used to sit out on the front porch and enjoy the smell after it rained. It was especially potent in the rural area where we lived in Florida. I read somewhere that not everyone can detect petrichor, and if that’s true, it sucks. They’re really missing out.

My nose twitches, and I find myself subconsciously leaning closer to Cormac. I’m greedy for more of his fresh rainy scent.

Shit.

I’ve met scent matches before. In fact, Lucky’s dad was one, but Cormac’s scent hits me a thousand times harder than Blade’s ever did.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte.” Cormac’s eyes glimmer behind his glasses as he nods to the kids’ area. “It looks like they’re wrapping up. I don’t want to keep you. Maybe I’ll see the two of you around the library again sometime.”

I smile and nod, but reality catches up quickly.

I wouldn’t hate the idea of seeing him again. Unfortunately, with my baggage, that can’t happen.