“It has a garage for the car. Whenever I want to stop off somewhere for a while, I park the motor home and then use my car to get around. Want a ride to work?”

Every hormone she had yelled, “Yes!” Lord, he was so gorgeous and masculine and alluring she could cry. But she couldn’t allow that to shake her resolve. “What I want is for you to leave. I made that pretty clear last night.”

“Did you really think I would?”

“No. I wouldn’t dare expect you to take my feelings into account.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re playing this little game.”

He pinned her gaze with his. “This isn’t a game to me, Shay. You said that you don’t trust me not to leave you again. As much as I hate that, I can understand. So it strikes me that I need to make sure you know I’m serious. I need to prove to you that I’m not leaving you. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

The words were so final, left no room for negotiation. Although she’d half expected him to pester her for a little while since dominant males didn’t drop matters easily, she hadn’t expected him to be so committed. Her wolf, who was becoming a real pain in the ass, liked that he had come to her and had every intention of claiming her. As such, she wasn’t particularly happy with Shaya for resisting him. Yeah, well, Shaya wasn’t particularly happy with Nick. “I don’t want you here.”

“A part of you does, Shay.” He’d sensed it, and he was so damn grateful for it. “It might be small, but it’s there. Beneath all your anger, there’s still a desire to make this work.”

He was right, the ass**le. If he was just any guy, she might have been easily able to forget about him—after all, there were plenty more out there. But she only had one mate, and this was him; a part of her wanted him near and wanted to believe him. But hell would freeze over before she admitted it. “I have to get to work.” Before he could again offer to take her, she raised a hand. “I like to walk.”

“Suit yourself. Although I should point out that it looks like it’s going to start raining any second now.” He leaned back against the motor home and took a long sip of his coffee, ignoring the tap-tap-tapping of her foot.

When he made no move to drive off in his Winne-whatever-it-was-called, she counted to ten in her head, praying for patience. “Well…are you going to move this…thing?”

“Nope.”

Patience all gone. “Nick, seriously, you need to—”

“You’re going to be late for work if you don’t hurry.”

She glanced at her watch and cursed. “This and you had better be gone by the time I get home.” Nick simply shot her a lopsided smile. The guy was a menace. How the hell did you get through to someone who had selective hearing? No, actually, it wasn’t selective hearing. He heard and understood every single word; he just didn’t give a crap.

Sharply she turned and began striding down the street. No more than a minute later, the rain started. Great. The sound of an engine made her turn her head. Nick had parked his Mercedes at the side of the road with the convertible top now up and was opening the passenger door in invitation. She wrestled with herself for all of five seconds before jogging over to the car and jumping inside. “Letting you give me a ride to work doesn’t mean anything.”

Nick gave her a reassuring “of course not” look, but inside he was smiling. He wasn’t dumb enough to let it surface—he knew he was on shaky ground.

When he started the engine, she turned to him. “The salon where I work is—”

“It’s okay, I know where it is,” he told her as he began driving. His wolf let loose a growl of satisfaction—he liked having her in his space, liked having her scent surrounding him.

“How?”

“You’re my mate. I’m naturally going to want to know everything about you.” He shrugged; it was simple. “That includes your address, where you work, and your cell number—just thought you should know so you won’t be surprised if a text message from me arrives.”

She gaped, both offended and shocked. “You can’t just pry into people’s lives like that and find out all their personal details. And how did you find them out anyway?”

He shrugged again. “I have contacts in the right places.”

“So, what, you’re a stalker now?”

“I prefer the term ‘intense investigator.’” Before she could give him any more grief, he gestured to the vehicle. “Like it?”

“It’s all right, I guess.”

His mouth curved at the sound of her reluctant appreciation. “I’m more into all-terrain vehicles, but I couldn’t have fit one in the motor home.”

She frowned. “Then why not just use an SUV or something instead of that big hulking thing?”

“Because an SUV wouldn’t have been much good as somewhere to live over the past six months.”

“You’ve been living in the Winne-thing?” she asked, shocked. He nodded. “So when you said you’d spent six months looking for me, you meant it literally?”

He gave her an odd look. “Of course I meant it.” Realization quickly dawned on him. “You thought I meant I’d had other people tracking you for me.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “You’re an Alpha; you have shit to do.”

“Not anymore, remember. I gave it up the day I found out you’d left. I’ve been searching for you ever since.” Casting a glance at her, he saw her skeptical look. “You don’t believe I gave up the position?”

“I believe you’ll go back.” She wasn’t sure about the rest, but she was pretty certain about that. “Living without your pack and your land is hard.”

“Living without you is harder.”

Instead of sounding soppy or pathetic, it had instead come out sounding cutely possessive and protective.

“Besides, if you want the truth, I don’t much like company.”

That had her double-blinking in surprise. “You don’t like company?” she echoed disbelievingly. “You’re a shifter.”

“People annoy me. I like being alone.” Yeah, he knew that was odd for a shifter—they craved contact and thrived on it. But he’d never felt the same satisfaction from social contact that the rest of his kind did. Then, after spending five years of his life in juvie where there were no such things as space, privacy, or quiet, he’d eventually come to crave those things as opposed to social contact. And he wasn’t good at bonding anyway.