He rolled his eyes at his juvenile eagerness. Jesus, he was supposed to be mingling with his pack, not dreaming about romancing Charlotte. And yet, ever since turfing out her pally wally Dylan, he’d thought of nothing but her.Was she angry at him? Relieved? Grateful?Damn, he could handle almost anything but her gratitude. She’d been grateful when he’d sat at her side after she’d been attacked a few months ago. She always appeared grateful whenever he did little things for her like hanging paintings in her cabin, or walking her home after a late shift.He didn’t want her gratitude anymore.He wanted her rapture. He leaned on the pub bar, pretty sure he wouldn’t be witnessing her rapture, or even her head peeking around the corner, tonight. And what did it matter? Her shiny, new job was waiting for her and she’d disappear come autumn.Still, after learning about Jason Burns and his escape, he’d feel a whole lot better if Charlotte were in his line of sight. Maybe he should check on her…A soft hand settled on his shoulder.
