The Wolf Marshal's Pack (U.S. Marshal Shifters 3)

“Definitely,” Colby said.

“Then I’m going to be an astronaut.”

That was a new one. Aria was used to her daughter’s revolving door of glamorous future career options, and it always delighted her that Mattie had enough interests and enough confidence to treat her future like an enormous game of dress-up.

And, as a matter of fact, she used to daydream about space sometimes, too. Maybe she could secretly keep her fingers crossed that the astronaut goal would stick.

Colby instantly engaged Mattie in a discussion about what planets and moons she’d like to go to and what aliens she’d like to meet. He stood side-by-side with Aria, drying the dishes she washed, while he carried on this cheerful conversation with her daughter.

Aria felt an immense longing inside her. Homesickness for a home—for a life—that she’d never had.

This is what your family is supposed to be, a little voice inside her whispered.

And that felt right to her.

But she was way more used to listening to the nastier little voice that spoke up next.

Sure, he flirted with you. Sure, he wanted to kiss you. But do you really think it’s likely that he’ll stick around? Do you really believe that love at first sight is going to strike you, of all people, and now, of all times? When your hair is messy and you still haven’t lost that extra weight you gained at Christmas? What happens when you travel for work, and he sees you after you’ve been stuck taking camping showers for a week?

He looks like a movie star. He could have any woman he wants. Why do you think you’d be more than a fling?

Well, maybe he wanted her. He seemed like he did, anyway. And if he wanted her right now, it wasn’t that far-fetched to think he might keep on doing it.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that this kind of thing didn’t happen to her. Not to Granola Breath—ugh—Clarke who owned half-a-dozen pairs of hiking boots and only one pair of high heels (that always gave her blisters).

Her mom was right. Whether she was always aware of it or not, she had believed for years now that if a good guy like Mike hadn’t been able to stay in love with her, no one could.

Except—

Except that was bullshit, wa

sn’t it? That was dumb. She hadn’t stayed in love with Mike, either, but he would have made some woman an amazing husband.

The fact that things hadn’t worked out with her first love shouldn’t mean more than the fact that things hadn’t worked out with his first love.

And if she hadn’t had any serious relationships since then, maybe it was because she sabotaged them before they even got started.

The mean little voice inside her head wanted her to stop returning Colby’s smiles and lingering glances, to stop believing that this could be—screw it, that this was—the beginning of something. And then he might give up, because who could keep on flirting with a brick wall?

And then the mean little voice would say: See, I was right. He didn’t really want you.

Well, she wasn’t going to let that happen this time. She knew enough about nature to accept that sometimes people were predators and sometimes they were prey, but it couldn’t possibly be natural for a person to prey on herself.

She could be afraid of Eli Hebbert. That made sense. But she was done being afraid of feeling things.

She leaned a little to the side, resting her shoulder and the curve of her hip up against Colby’s warm, solid body, and he gave her one of those delicious grins that made her feel like she was going to melt right down to the floor.

Damn straight.

“Dinner is served,” Doreen said. She fixed Aria with a particularly proud smile, like she’d been eavesdropping on her thoughts and knew the conclusion her daughter had just come to. “I’ll just go put the salad on the table—”

Then Colby dropped the glass he was drying.

It shattered against the kitchen floor.

“Oops,” Mattie said, giggling. She was always happy whenever adults were the ones to break something.

But Aria could see the look on Colby’s face, and she knew it wasn’t just that the glass had slipped out of his hand. His face had gone rigid.