Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Which all meant I had to turn him down.
I shook my head. Rain started to fall in heavier drops. “I’ve got some things I have to do before I start work this week.” A flash of disappointment crossed Dylan’s handsome and genial face. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” he answered. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
“I’m sure we will.”
I was about to shift back into my wolf form and take off running, but Dylan’s hand on my elbow stopped me. “Question, random I know, but… do I smell like anything to you?”
I blinked a couple times, unsure of what he was getting at with this. I took a couple of deep sniffs. He smelled like rich leather and wet leaves and honey dripped into a delicious floral tea.
He smelled great. But I wasn’t about to say that all to him now. “Like cologne?” I said, playing a little dumb. “Good cologne. The expensive kind,” I added after seeing the look of slight confusion on his face.
“That’s it? Nothing like, I don’t know, more intense? Like something you’ve never smelled before?”
I chewed my cheek. I liked being right and giving correct answers, so why was I feeling like I’d just failed some kind of surprise exam? “You smell great,” I said. “But I do think I’ve smelled that cologne before. Tom Ford?”
Dylan shook his head. “Nope. Polo, actually.”
“Ah. Gotcha… Why?”
He stayed silent for a moment, his eyes bouncing between mine, down to my lips, back up to my gaze. “No reason,” he said with a shrug. “See you around, Miles. Welcome to Burlington.”
“Thanks, Dylan.”
“Dyl. You can call me Dyl.”
“Dyl it is,” I said.
Moments later, we were both back in our wolf forms, running in opposite directions.
Chapter Three
Stud-drunk
DYLAN
“Chris, I think I found my fated mate.”
Chris nearly spit out the Gatorade he’d been chugging.
“Sorry, I should have probably waited to tell you that.”
“Bro, seriously?”
“Serious as a dead doornail or whatever the saying is.”
“I don’t think that’s a saying…”
“Serious as a dead hangnail?”
“That’s even worse,” Chris said. He capped the Gatorade and put it down next to the leg press machine. I got up and swapped places with him. “Can you add another plate?”
I grabbed a forty-five-pound plate and slid it next to the five other weights that were already on the bar. “And I think he’s our new trainer,” I nonchalantly added as I was grabbing another forty-five for the other side. Chris looked up at me with his jaw dropped.
“All right, hold up.” He grabbed the handles on the machine and lifted himself up back onto his feet. “I’m going to need the full rundown, and not while I’m about to leg press four hundred and fifty pounds.”
“You sure? You can finish your set and then I’ll blab about my messy love life and—”
“I’m sure. I’m hungry anyway, let’s go grab something to eat across the street.”
My heart started to beat a little faster, and not because I was still coming down from my leg workout. Why was I suddenly so nervous to talk about this? Chris was my best friend, and I talked to him about everything, but this felt so much weightier than random hookups or dumb TV shows I’d recently become obsessed with. And there was the whole issue about Miles not mentioning anything about my scent which was… weird. If he was my fated mate then he would have felt that ground-shaking pull I felt the second I got within five feet of him. But he didn’t say anything. In fact, it was the opposite, he seemed to be laser-focused on getting the hell away from me.
Not what I expected my fated mate to do.
I grabbed my light blue towel from my waistband and wiped sweat off my forehead. We had come to a gym closer to my house today. It was usually way busier than our gym at the Bobcats Arena but I didn’t mind. I liked the buzz of working out around a big group of people.
There was also the benefit of not accidentally bumping into Miles here. I was going to have to get used to seeing a lot of him from here on out, so best not have two awkward encounters back-to-back.
Chris and I made a quick stop in the bathroom to wash our hands and splash some water on our faces before leaving. I followed him out. Sweat soaked through his white tank top, same as mine. We had a great workout—leg day was one of my favorite days. Helped me loosen up and work on making my thighs as tree-trunk sized as possible. It was also one of the more important muscle groups for playing hockey. I liked knowing I could propel myself across the ice and barrel into an opponent without toppling over.
I also liked the soreness that followed. It would be a perfect excuse to drop into Miles’ office for an afternoon of stretching and flexing and fu—