“Okay, but don’t drive in your current state. I’m worried about you. You’re too distracted.”
“I thought you said the females in the Masters family only mated with one man. What happened to that plan?”
“No idea. In fact, Zach is on the phone with his parents now. He looks like he’s going to pull his hair out in confusion.” She giggled.
Cooper exhaled long and slow. “I’ll call you later.” He ended the call and dropped the phone in his lap. “Shit.”
He thought back on the whirlwind of emotions that had ruled his life for several years. Until six months ago when his brother Sawyer met Logan Masters and Amanda Williams, Cooper hadn’t known if he was destined to mate with Logan or Sharon. Both he and Sawyer had been relatively certain they would each belong to one of the other two, but there was no way to know who would end up with whom.
And then Sawyer had thrown in the towel and moved to Cambridge, putting everyone out of their misery by confirming that indeed he would share a mate with Logan.
The pressure that lifted off Cooper’s shoulders when he found out had been tremendous. Half the reason he’d been hiding from his future was because he didn’t want to share his mate with another man. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it.
Rationally, he’d known it was out of his hands. But that didn’t keep him from bucking the system, so to speak.
For six months he’d known with absolute certainty that the mysterious Sharon was his for the taking as soon as he pulled his head out of his ass. The shock of finding that to be untrue had left him unfocused and distracted for the past four days.
And now this. A new twist. Sharon was his. He hadn’t been wrong.
And he had to share her for the rest of his life with a tall, handsome human named Jackson. A man who didn’t know a fucking thing about the existence of shifters.
His chest heaved. He wasn’t sure he would survive this thing. It made him tired thinking about everything that needed to happen in the next few days.
Because if there was one thing he was super clear on, it was that putting off the inevitable would only make things worse. Every one of his siblings had been through this. Fighting Fate was a lost cause.
His hands were sweating, and he opened his palms to wipe them on his thighs. Already he was showing signs of the distress common to shifters on the verge of mating. The crazy part was that he still hadn’t met the woman in this equation. He’d never even seen her. Not even a picture.
With a deep breath, he threaded his fingers together and leaned his forehead against them.
Think, Hamilton.
Chapter Seven
Sharon was a wreck. Even though she’d spent the afternoon preparing lasagna, French bread, and salad on her perfectly good leg, it was close to seven, and she needed to put on her game face and resume the farce of pretending to be injured.
It happened to shifters all the time. Whenever one of them got hurt in front of humans, they had no choice but to play the healing game for as long as that particular injury would normally last for a human. Otherwise, they would raise suspicion.
Broken bone—six weeks in an uncomfortable cast. Stitches—one week with an enormous bandage that covered the area and then weeks of makeup to create the fake scar tissue. At least she hadn’t been hit in the face. That would have been so much worse.
When the doorbell rang, she glanced around to make sure everything was in place, picked up her crutches, and hobbled across the front room.
She opened the door with a smile. “You found it.”
“I did.” He entered, twisting a bottle of wine around in his hand to show her what he’d brought. “Hope you like red?”
“Love it.” Even if she hated the stuff, she would have feigned interest for the rest of her life just to help him relax at that moment.
And it worked. He blew out a breath and nodded. “Good. Well, then.” He stepped past her and glanced around the condo as she shut the door awkwardly, hating the unnecessary crutches immensely. Thank God she hadn’t broken a bone.
“Nice place.” She watched his fine ass encased in perfect jeans as he strolled into her space. The untucked dark blue shirt was sexy as hell. It fit him perfectly, stretching across his chest in a way that made her lick her lips.
“Thanks. It’s been through a lot. All of my brothers lived here at one point or another. I’m the youngest in the family and the last to occupy the famed bachelor pad.” She giggled nervously.
“Well, you must have been here a while. It has a woman’s touch.”
It didn’t. He was lying to make her feel good. She didn’t care that much about girly stuff, and she rarely spent much time at the condo. For all the whining and moaning she’d done pretending to want her own space and freedom, as soon as Logan moved to his new home on the edge of the reservation halfway between Cambridge and Sojourn, she’d instantly felt lonely.