TEMPORARY MATES PERMANENT CRAVINGS novel Chapter 300

Three hundred

Isabella POV

Day three in Accounting, and things couldn’t have been going any better.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing as I’d been handed a mountain of files. But it wasn’t the kind of stress that came from bullying or people going out of their way to make life difficult. No one was watching my every move anymore. I could get up to use the restroom without worrying I’d come back to find my work drenched in coffee.

At first, I’d been reluctant to ask for help, worried people would think I was incompetent, especially when it came to things I genuinely didn’t know. Harrison had been busy, and I didn’t want to interrupt him, so I asked someone else on the team instead. He walked me through everything without mocking me or making me feel stupid. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been expecting ridicule until it never came.

As for Emerald, the devil in human form, she’d been called in for questioning.

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling when HR informed me they were investigating my complaint and would need my input whenever necessary. I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Emerald had been so sure I’d be the one losing my job. Instead, at least for now, she was the one answering uncomfortable

questions.

After getting off the bus and waving goodbye to Iris and Harrison, I made my way home. My feet ached from standing and walking all day, and I was already looking forward to an early night. I headed toward Grandma Cassidy’s side of the house, but before I got there, Maverick’s laughter drifted out from the kitchen. My steps naturally changed direction.

As I reached the entrance, a male voice reached me.

I slowed.

They seemed to be having a very serious discussion about football and toys, and it took me only a second to recognize Wesley. Maverick burst into another fit of giggles, making me smile despite myself.

Wesley shouldn’t have been here on a weekday.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I stepped into the doorway.

Grandma Cassidy was nowhere in sight. Instead, Wesley stood by the stove in his work shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking completely out of place as he stirred a steaming pot with a wooden

spoon.

Maverick sat on one of the kitchen stools beside him, swinging his legs and chatting away. Neither of them noticed me.

The sharp scent of herbs hung heavily in the air, but it never stood a chance against the scent of the bond. Every single time I saw Wesley, the pull seemed stronger than it had been before.

I remained where I was, waiting for him to turn. Surely he could smell me and already knew I was standing there.

He didn’t.

Instead, Maverick looked up first.

“Mommy’s home!”

His face lit up as he jumped down and ran toward me.

I hugged him, though my attention had already shifted past him.

Wesley turned. I hurriedly schooled my expression before the bond melted every bit of composure I’d managed to hold together.

“Your son asks questions like a journalist,” he said, turning back to the pot. “It’s impressive for a four-year -old.”

I wasn’t even sure how to respond.

“Grandma Cassidy insisted I keep stirring this so it stays consistent,” he said, sounding like a man serving a sentence. “Apparently, I can’t stop, and I can’t leave the pot.”

He glanced at Maverick. “It’s not so dreadful with him keeping me company.”

Maverick beamed proudly before climbing back onto the stool beside him.

I stared at the same man who commanded boardrooms and chaired council meetings standing in a kitchen, faithfully stirring herbs because his nanny had told him to.

“Did Grandma go far?” I finally asked.

“No. She’s in the backyard picking more herbs.”

Maverick immediately launched into another question and Wesley looked at me with a silent plea for rescue.

I smiled despite myself and stepped in. By the time I reached them, I noticed Wesley looked tired.

His skin seemed a little paler than usual, and there was a heaviness around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. The bond reacted immediately, filling me with an uneasy need to help him.

I forced myself to focus elsewhere.

“Maverick,” I said gently, moving him a little farther from the stove. “Stay back. The pot is hot.”

Maverick pouted.

“I want to stir.”

“You’ll be allowed to stir when you’re taller than the pot,” Wesley said.

Watching the two of them together stirred something unexpected inside me. For one reckless second, an image flashed through my mind.

Wesley laughing with his own child, teaching them things, standing in a kitchen like this. The warmth that spread through my chest caught me completely off guard.

I shut the thought down.

Wesley wasn’t Maverick’s father. He never would be.

And just because he happened to be my mate, a mate who refused to acknowledge our bond, didn’t mean I had any business imagining him in that role.

“It’s starting to bubble over,” I said, reaching for the lid. “It’s going to spill.”

Our hands brushed and my heart stumbled. I pretended nothing had happened as I reached for a colander to strain the herbs instead.

When I turned back, I found Wesley watching me.

“Long day?” he asked.

I looked away.

“Something like that,” I murmured.

Why did he have to ask something so ordinary in a setting that already felt far too domestic? And why did every little thing he did seem to feed impossible thoughts I had no business entertaining?

A dog barked outside. Maverick’s eyes lit up.

“Doggy!”

Before I could stop him, he darted out into the backyard.

The kitchen went quiet.

He’s a good kid,” Wesley said.

I nodded.

Neither of us moved.

The silence stretched between us, growing charged as he kept looking at me.

I held his gaze, my wolf already stirring beneath my skin as the bond tugged at me.

“I have?”

“Just say what this is.” My voice cracked. “That’s all I want to hear.”

Silence.

“You can’t keep pretending…” I swallowed hard. “…and openly court someone else at the same time.”

His smile disappeared and he simply looked at me.

“I can be openly courting one woman and be attracted to another. Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

He let out a soft laugh.

“Do you expect me to shout it from the rooftop before you’ll believe me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think I understand.”

His voice remained gentle.

“You’re not interested in anything casual.”

I frowned.

“You’ve been hurt before. You’re trying not to make the same mistake twice.”

He took another step closer.

“You need certainty. A title. Boyfriend. Husband. Something that tells you this isn’t just two people giving

in to attraction.”

His smile turned almost wistful.

“I respect that.”

I searched his face desperately.

“So…” I asked quietly, “Is this just an attraction to you?”

He paused, actually considering the question.

“No.”

Oh goddess!

He was going to say it.

“It isn’t just attraction.”

A smile touched his lips.

“Not even close.”

I could barely breathe.

“I haven’t wanted someone this much in years.”

Every ounce of hope inside me crumbled.