Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 285

Ch. 55

Cassandra

Jack has just started showing up at the administrative office, leaning in the doorway and saying “ready?” like me agreeing to whatever date he has planned is a foregone conclusion.

I suppose it is. I do have a pretty consistent track record of saying yes so far. Still, I wonder if I’ll ever stop being surprised at his beaming smile and the excited expression he wears every time he sees me.

I’ve been braced for him to lose interest since the very first one. I told him everything-the ugly version, no edits -and I half-expected the second invitation to not materialize. It’s one thing to listen to someone’s history in a private office and decide you’re still interested. It’s another to show up again once the reality of that history has had a few days to sink.

But he keeps showing up anyway. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think he liked me, checkered past and all. I have to admit it’s a heady feeling.

“Thank you.” I say when I realize he’s still standing there, waiting for me to join him.

An amused look colors his cheeks. “For what?” He chuckles.

A warm feeling spreads through my chest, something close to affection. “For making it so easy for me to say yes. I walk over to join him, thread my arm through his. “For accepting me as I am, not making me feel like I’m failing to meet some unreachable standard.

“For asking me questions because you actually want to get to know me rather than trying to be invasive about my past. For saying what you think without waiting to see what I think first. For being real, I guess.”

He pulls me into his arms, his eyes sparkling happily as he plants a kiss on my forehead. “You don’t have to thank me for those things, Cass,” I like the nickname more than I should, “those things are the least you deserve. Besides, you give me those exact same things right back.”

And I guess, I do. Because I don’t have another mode anymore. Whatever is left when you strip that away is apparently what he’s here for.

The next evening, I already know he’s going to come by and I find myself looking forward to it more than I thought I would., hurrying to finish up before he arrives. I don’t quite manage it and he doesn’t make a big deal of it-just pulls a chair around to my side of the desk and reads something on his phone while I work through the last of the files. He doesn’t require conversation. He’s just-there, occupying the space without demanding anything from it.

I thought I would be annoyed by it but find I actually don’t mind. In fact, I find his presence comforting. That surprises me.

“So how was your day?” I ask, signaling I’m done with work and he has my full attention now.

He starts telling me about a border patrol incident. Two junior warriors, a territorial marker, and something in the undergrowth of the eastern sector that turned out to be a deer-a large deer, apparently, the kind with huge antlers, and the territorial marker didn’t survive the interaction.

“So Garrett-” Jack says, “-files the incident report, and under cause of territorial breach he writes, and I am quoting directly: wildlife of an aggressive disposition.”

I laugh. The real kind. The surprised kind that arrives before you decide whether to let it-that just happens because you’re truly amused and not because you feel obligated. I clap a hand over my mouth, which makes it

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worse, because Jack’s expression shifts into something that is pleased without being smug, and that makes it Worse again.

“When did you stop doing that?” he leans forward, pulling my hand from my face.

I could deflect. Pretend I don’t know what he’s asking. Say doing what? or redirect back to his story. He’d let me.

“A while ago,” I go with the truth instead. It’s apparently becoming a habit. “It’s been some time since I had anything to laugh about, or felt light enough to do It.”-

He nods. “Well, I’m glad you feel that way with me. You should laugh more. It suits you,” he grins, and goes straight back to the story-Garrett’s incident report, the deer, the look on the patrol supervisor’s face-without making the moment into more than it was.

Somehow that makes it even more meaningful. I think about it all the way home. I try to remember when I stopped laughing like that-genuinely, unselfconsciously-and what it says that a man I’ve had a handful of dates with, who isn’t my mate, is the one who helped me find it again.

I know I shouldn’t compare it to anything. Noah was never anything to me because I never let him be. But the bond doesn’t seem to care about that detail.

I roll my eyes when I hear Cole come into the office the next morning. Luckily, I have my back to him so he doesn’t see the offensive maneuver. I knew to be expecting him. I should’ve had my reactions under better control.

But why he feels the need to continue his weekly check-ins-he does this every Thursday, reviews what’s been processed, flags anything that requires escalation-is beyond me. It’s not like he has to keep assigning me to the admin office. If he’s concerned I’m not doing a good job, he could assign me almost anywhere else. He could banish me to the basement laundry room, for Goddess sake.

He comes in like clockwork anyway. And today he finds Jack in the chair on my side of the desk. His expression darkens almost imperceptively, but he shakes it off and manages to find his manners.

“Jack,” he nods in greeting, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Just came by to take Cass to lunch but she wanted to finish a few things first. I can step out if you need to talk with her privately.” He offers.

“That’s not necessary.” Cole’s attempt at a polite smile falls flat but he doesn’t comment further.

He addresses the weekly check with me. Efficient, thorough, the usual. He acknowledges Jack with the minimal nod on his way out, communicating nothing beyond that. Then he leaves.

Jack watches me watch Cole go.

“Is that going to be a problem?” he wonders.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, going for unconcerned.

He’s quiet for a moment. “Probably not for me,” he says. Not smug about it-just stating facts. He isn’t doing anything wrong by being here.

“No,” I agree. “Not for you.”

He nods. He understands what I’m not saying: that if there’s a problem, it lands on me. On the rogue contractor who doesn’t have the standing to be having lunch with pack warriors, on the woman who is here under terms set by an Alpha who is watching every move she makes.

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