He couldn't think of anywhere better to live. He wanted to shift and run through the hills and forests, digging his claws into the dirt, scaling trees and leaping from rock to rock. Just inhaling the mountain air seemed to clean out the dull patina that had been building around him after years in the city.
So he knew what he wanted: he wanted to leave Washington and come be with Mavis in Glacier. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind.
And even if there had been, Mavis shouldn't worry, because he would never, ever ask her to leave her daughter. If he'd had to sacrifice something he wanted for himself, he would have done it in a second.
But he didn't. This was what he wanted.
The problem, though, was the pack. Cal was the pack leader, but he still had that instinct to defer to Wilson, after years spent on opposite sides of the officer-enlisted divide.
Wilson would have to tread very delicately to avoid disrupting Cal's pack. Which was the last thing he wanted to do.
Maybe he could set himself up as more of a loner, out here. Or maybe there was another pack he could join—if not more snow leopards, then one of those multi-shifter packs that occasionally popped up in places with high concentrations of different shifter types. Looking at it from a certain angle, shifter units in the military were essentially that, with an officer as the alpha.
Wilson would figure it out. For the moment, he'd make absolutely sure to keep himself out of Cal's pack hierarchy. There was no question about who was the leader of that pack, and Wilson didn't want to change that at all.
Mavis came over from the dance floor, smiling and breathing hard after doing some kind of fast dance to a pop song. Nina had dragged her out to dance with the younger pack women, and Mavis had gone with only a token protest.
Wilson smiled at her. "Something to drink?"
"Please," Mavis panted.
Wilson got her a glass of water and pulled out a chair for her. "That looked fun."
Mavis nodded. "It was. But of course, I'm not twenty-five anymore. Or a shifter, come to that. That's probably my one fast dance for the evening."
"Nina looks like she's having a great time, though," he offered.
The smile that spread across Mavis' face was beautiful—happy, tender, grateful, all rolled into one gorgeous expression. Wilson knew he was always going to love how Mavis spoke about her daughter. "She's loving it," Mavis said. "She told me three separate times that she doesn't know how to dance, until Teri pulled her into a spin and insisted that it didn't matter one bit, all that mattered was having fun. And she's sure doing that."
"Good," Wilson said. "I hope she won't mind that you and I..."
Mavis rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding? She was ready to ‘accidentally’ lock us in a closet or something. She's always worried that I'm lonely."
"Are you?" Wilson thought about moving to a new town alone, well into middle age, when everyone's social circles were usually pretty fixed—especially in a small town like this. And right after a bad divorce, too. It must have been hard.
Mavis shrugged, a small motion that suggested at larger feelings beneath it. "I've gotten to know the locals pretty well, I think," she said. "But those are mostly friendly business connections, if I'm honest. The pack are all very nice to me, but they're so young. Except Cal and Lillian, and they're caught up in starting their family. And, well..." She trailed off.
"Well?" Wilson prompted.
"Well," she said slowly, "I was going to say that when the pack gets together, it's usually very apparent that they're all coupled off. I mean, they're so happy, it's hard to miss, even if they're not all holding hands or what-have-you. And that can be a bit lonely. But now..." She smiled at him.
Deliberately, Wilson reached out and took her hand. And at that moment, the loud pop song faded out, and a slower tune started up. Wilson met Mavis' beautiful brown eyes and smiled. "May I have this dance?"
Mavis looked started, and then wondering. She squeezed his hand. "Of course."
Wilson stood and led her out onto the dance floor. He drew her into his arms, and together they swayed to the slow, sweet music. Mavis fit perfectly just under his chin, and the feeling of her tucked up against him was divine. And as he looked down at her, her eyes drifted closed and she laid her head against his shoulder, relaxing into his movements and letting him lead them in their graceful swaying dance.
Wilson wanted to freeze this moment, and keep it in his heart forever. His and Mavis' first dance.
Of course, he couldn’t stop time, so he just breathed in and enjoyed it. The warmth of his mate in his arms, the slow beat of the music, and the feeling of pure, undiluted happiness in his chest.
When it was over, Mavis lifted her head and looked up at him, a smile lingering on her lips. Wilson bent down and kissed her softly, then led her back to the table.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t know when I last had a dance like that.”
“We can dance together every night, if you want,” he told her.
At his words, her face took on an expression he was starting to recognize—a combination of happiness and anxiety. He knew what it meant, now: he’d offered her something that she truly, deeply wanted, but she was afraid that it couldn’t be real.