Eluna’s P.O.V.
I swear, if Blondie Cowboy stared at me for one more second, I was going to hurl a breadbasket at his perfect-looking face. Not because I was angry—OK, yes, I was angry—but more because I didn’t know what else to do with myself. My hands needed a distraction, and God only knew I couldn’t keep using the same cloth to wipe down the same clean spot on the bar for the twentieth time.
He was still watching me.
I could feel it.
Like a heat laser burning through the back of my head while I tried to work. That man had the guts to just... sit there. Looking all cowboy-chic with his tousled hair and his scruffy jaw and stormy eyes like he was in on a joke the rest of us hadn’t heard yet.
My wolf was practically howling in my chest.
*Go to him,* she demanded.
“Shut up,” I hissed
