“Can I help you?” Paisley’s voice was seductive and filled with promise. She had also put on her best invitational smile, but Nick didn’t spare the bitch a glance; he continued to stare at Shaya as if no one else was of any importance. Shaya kind of liked that.

Coming to stand in front of Shaya, Nick fought back the urge to reach out, drag her to him, and take what was his. The need emanating from her wasn’t helping. Spotting his gift at her station, he grinned. “So it came.” Humor danced in her eyes, making his grin widen.

“Oh, hi,” drawled Kent as he returned to Shaya’s side, smiling widely at Nick. “I take it you’ve come to give her a ride home again. Fabulous. It’s chilly out there.” He shoved at Shaya’s back. “See you tomorrow, bright and late.”

Shaya scowled at her supposed friend. “I don’t need a ride. I’m—”

“Perfectly capable of getting yourself home,” Nick finished. “But why would you want to walk when you can be chauffeured around?” Curling an arm around her shoulders, Nick led her toward the door.

Shaya might have fought him—then again, she might not have—but the expression on Paisley’s face stopped her. There was a little too much admiration and lust there for Shaya’s liking. Although Shaya didn’t want to want Nick, she didn’t want Paisley thinking he was available either. Maybe that was petty.…Okay, it was definitely petty. But she did not like the thought of Nick with someone else, and she especially did not relish the idea of another female pursuing him.

Inside the car, Nick asked, “Well, did you like your gift?”

Shaya snorted. “It has to be the least romantic thing I’ve ever been given.”

He grinned. “It made you smile. Admit it. You like it.”

Admit it? Pfft. “You can take it back, in any case. I don’t like receiving gifts.” It always made her feel awkward.

“You better get used to it, Shay, because I plan to do it again.”

She was about to give a cocky comment when she noticed he was staring right at her mouth. Her breath seemed to get trapped in her throat, and instantly the memory of their kiss assailed her. The heated look on his face said that he was recalling it too.

Shaking off his fantasies of just how Nick could use that sensual mouth of hers, he began driving en route to Shaya’s home. “Hungry?”

Depends what kind of hunger you’re referring to. But Shaya knew what he meant—she had smelled the spicy curry the second she got in the car. He had clearly gotten takeout and was hoping they could share it together. “I told you yesterday—letting you give me a ride somewhere doesn’t mean anything.”

Nick frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Giving me a ride and then buying me Indian food isn’t going to make me suddenly let you into my home.”

Realizing where her thoughts had taken her, he drawled, “Oh. I’m afraid you’re a little mistaken. I didn’t buy you takeout. I cooked you a meal—a meal for you, not for both of us to enjoy together.” He had no intention of pushing things, pushing her.

“You cooked me a meal?”

“You’ve been on your feet all day. I figured the last thing you’d want to do was cook at the end of it. This means you have one less thing to worry about when you get inside.”

Shaya really didn’t know what to do with that. There was no denying he had an ulterior motive—he was trying to win her over; he’d already informed her of this. But he wasn’t doing the alpha thing and being pushy, nor was he doing the mate thing and invading her personal space. He had done something sweet for her and wasn’t expecting anything in return. He was merely hoping to demonstrate that he’d meant everything he said to her, backing it up with actions.

She knew he could have no real idea just how little words meant to her. Mason had given her plenty of words, told her just how special and beautiful she was, and just how proud he was to have her as his true mate. He had given her all the words she could have wanted to hear, using her need for a connection to get what he wanted.

Only actions would make her even consider believing Nick. But she didn’t want him to give her actions; she wanted to stay mad at him and give herself every reason to keep him at a distance. So she wasn’t a happy bunny right now, knowing this big, bad, powerful, and often remote alpha was focused on having her and had done something considerate for her.

But he didn’t tell Kent you were his mate, a voice in her head reminded her. He’s not proud to have you.

“You’re angry that I cooked you something?” asked Nick, sensing her mood shift. He tried examining her expression, but she was busy staring out the window. His wolf tensed, honing every sense on her.

“No. It was sweet.” And very convenient because she was an awful cook and she tended to exist on cereal, noodles, and takeouts.

“Then why are you mad at me?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not. I told you, what you did was sweet.”

Then why did she sound like she wanted to rip out his heart and use it as a mallet? “You’re mad that I did something sweet?”

“No.”

“So what’s the problem?” She didn’t answer, just continued to stare out the window. His wolf growled with impatience. “Shay, you gotta help me out here. How can I apologize if I don’t know what I’ve done?”

“I don’t want your apologies anyway.”

“Shay, tell me.”

The dominance and power in his tone made her shudder, and before she knew it, the words came flying out. “You didn’t tell Kent I was your ma—” She quickly cut off her words, annoyed with herself.

“And that pissed you off?” He didn’t understand women and probably never would. “Shay, I’m not good at this. When I was with females in the past…They weren’t relationships. I kept everything casual. Giving any kind of commitment to another female would’ve felt like cheating on my mate. I know some are open to imprinting, but I wasn’t. I wanted to find you.”

“Then I guess I’m a big disappointment to you, huh?”

Taken aback, he said, “Excuse me?”

“It’s always been obvious that you don’t think I’m good enough for you and that you look down on me.” She lurched forward as he suddenly pulled the car to a complete stop at the side of the road. “What the—”