Thankfully, the rest of our lunch was uneventful. Caleb ate more than I thought could fit in her slim body, but other than that, it was blissfully ordinary.
Conversation flowed easily and we got along like we’d known each other years and not months. I didn’t know what was happening between us, but it was somehow right. Natural.
I was feeling good. Like things might actually work out for me for a change. Like I might be able to worm my way into this woman’s life and figure out why I felt this unexplainable connection with her.
There was even a tiny part of me that thought there was a chance Caleb might not care I was only half werewolf. Or that my mother was human. Maybe she’d accept me and all my baggage as easily as her other two siblings had.
But would it be enough?
Being packmates
