Page 15 of Bearly Taken

“You’re making sure I haven’t been with another guy, aren’t you?” I mumbled against him.

“Sure as fuck am.” His voice was low, and a little gravelly.

“It killed you to give me space today, didn’t it?”

“Felt like torture,” he agreed.

He never gave me space when he was in town before.

I would take work off, and we would spend all day every day in his house together. He cooked for me. We had sex. We played card games. Had more sex. Talked. Had even more sex.

There had been a lot of sex.

But also, fun.

I’d missed the fun fiercely when he stopped coming, and even more after he knocked me up and left.

“What if I have a boyfriend?” I asked.

“He’ll be in the ground before Parker goes to sleep.” Reed’s answer was easy, but not playful.

The bastard was serious.

He considered me his, even after ditching me.

“Killing the guy I’m in love with would be a pretty good way to push me out of your life.”

“You’re not dating anyone, but nice try.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I spent half the day in your house and moving your things. If you were dating someone, I would’ve smelled him. And you wouldn’t be hugging me like this. You’re too loyal.”

Damn shifters and their noses.

Oh well.

I wouldn’t have kept the charade up for long, anyway.

“Not for lack of desire,” I said, stepping out of Reed’s arms and opening the back door. Parker was still screeching, and thesounds weren’t happy anymore. I unbuckled his car seat and heaved it out—just for Reed to pluck it away from me.

His eyes were bright as he grinned down at my yelling son. “What do you mean?”

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. About my dating comment. “Being a young shifter mom is a red flag for single guys around here. I’d have to look outside of Cub Lake, and I don’t have time right now.”

I closed the back door, and Reed snagged my hand before he towed me toward the house.

“You can’t hold my hand like this,” I said, though I loved feeling his rough fingers against mine.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re nottogether, Reed. You left me. Pregnant.”

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have left—but that’s not the point. The point is, you’re my mate. I won’t hold your hand if it makes you uncomfortable, but I consider us a pair.”

I sighed.

“Not to change the subject, but I feel obligated to admit that I have friends in town. I may have called in every favor and used every guilt-trip I possess to get information about you out of them while I packed your things,” he added.

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