Long black hair always tied up in a ponytail… Does she ever put it down?
“Mate,” my wolf says in my mind.
“It can’t be true, Jet. It can’t be a human, and I don’t sense she has a wolf,~” ~I say to him while watching her leisurely walk into her shift at the local coffee shop, Morning Rise.
“She is not our mate, Jet. I’m not sure what it is about her yet.”
Ugh, he’s so annoying.
I’ve been silently watching her for weeks now, and I’m still not sure why I do. Ever since she died, I’ve wanted nothing to do with women.
They throw themselves at me every damn chance they get, but here I am like a freakin’ creep, watching this one go into work every morning.
It’s no coincidence that both she and I get to work at the same time every morning. Shoot, I’m not even supposed to be here every morning. I have packs to maintain.
My office building is across the street, a high-rise that’s hard to miss.
I grew up there. Sterling Co.—a company passed down from my grandfather, which will eventually be passed down to me, the eldest son—is the business we keep in the human town to maintain our normal image.
Normal…aside from the fact we’re much larger than the typical wolf, let alone a typical human.
My father is always traveling, God knows where, leaving me and my brother to hold down the fort. It’s a pain in the ass.
For six years I ran our second location in Europe, happy to get away from this place that reeks of memories I’d rather forget.
Until I got a hobby: watching a dark-haired little dove. Little Dove. That’s what she is, a small, dainty dove.
Around noon, Alison, my secretary and fellow lycan, barges in my office door wearing a short, tight, high-waisted gray skirt with a white dress shirt tucked in.
The top of the skirt sits right under her big, voluptuous breasts, and the shirt has four buttons undone, revealing her white lace bra. Yes, she’s beautiful with her long blonde hair, but not my cup of tea.
“Mr. Sterling,” she purrs. “Your client Mr. Crawford has sent over the paperwork you need to review and sign.” She leans over my desk and slides the folder over to me.
“Thank you, Alison. I’ll have this reviewed and signed before I leave for lunch,” I reply coldly.
“I was thinking…maybe you and I can enjoy some dessert together when you get back,” she says, lust lacing every word. She playfully undoes another button on her blouse and sits on my desk in front of me.
“Maybe you should just go for it, it’s been sooo long,” Jet whines in my head~.~
“No, she’s too easy, Jet. I don’t want that for us anymore,” I silently argue back. “Out,” I say to Alison without even glancing her way.
She gets up, buttons up her blouse, and stomps toward the office door like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
Before slamming the door she turns around and says, “What if we just—”
But I sharply cut her off. “Out!”
And the door slams shut.
By 12:45, I decide to head out, maybe grab some coffee…
Oh, yes…coffee is a great idea.
I step out of the office and lock the door behind me, but as I get in the elevator, I see Alison rushing to catch up.
Before she can speak, I hand her a folder of signed and reviewed papers and press the ground floor button to close the doors.
She stands there staring at me with pathetic, pouting lips as the elevator doors close.
Does this woman get what she wants by acting clingy and pathetic?
“You already know she does.”
“Shut up, Jet.”
Though I have to admit, she and I did have a thing six years ago before I left for Europe. The sex was great, but that’s all it was. No feeling, no emotion, no love. Just sex.
Not that I want love—or anyone—it’s just a waste of time, keeping me from concentrating on my work.
I go down forty-eight floors and head out of the building. It’s a beautiful day out for a walk, though it isn’t far.
A few minutes later I get to Morning Rise and see her cleaning the counters through the open shop doors. Little Dove.
I stop and admire for a moment, watching her long black ponytail sway back and forth with each wipe. Shit, what’s wrong with me?
Seconds later, as I’m walking into the shop, I get a text from my father.
I put the phone away when I hear Little Dove clear her throat, which makes my already cold mood, thanks to that text, a bit colder.
Looking at her, I can see the way she trembles at my glare. I can hear her breathing become heavier and her heart rate pick up. She looks nervous, and it’s so damn cute.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Please let me know when you’re ready to order,” she says shyly.
She starts to clean the counters again and I blurt out, “Coffee. Black. Large.”
Dammit! Why do I have to sound like such a jerk?
She sets up the register and goes to prepare the coffee. As I am paying, I can’t seem to take my eyes off of her.
What is it about her? I can’t figure it out.
She hands me the coffee and receipt and says, “Thank you and have a great day!” with a beautiful smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I think it’s forced.
I nod and leave the store but look back at her through the window. She’s still watching.
I’ll be seeing you again, Little Dove.
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