Page 4 of Same Rogue
“My phone number?” she asked. Her voice was soft and full of shock.
“Yeah, so I can send you cash for gas. I can do it off your phone number.”
“Oh.” She frowned and recited it as he typed it into his banking app. He sent her five hundred dollars so she would have enough for food too.
She checked her phone as it vibrated with the banking text. Her eyes went round. “Oh my gosh, that’s way too much.”
“Don’t worry about it. This is all really fucked up. I’ll get ‘em. Don’t worry. My Alpha will be involved about five minutes after you leave this place. Trust me, it won’t happen again.”
Her bottom lip trembled and she lowered her gaze. “Thank you for being nice.”
“I mean, I called you a stripper and insulted you a bunch.”
“Yeah. That part wasn’t nice.” She inhaled deeply and looked up at him and smiled. It was a forced smile, but it was pretty. Her eyes sure were bright surrounded by all that dark to light hair.
“Good luck with your matchmaking,” he murmured.
She pursed her lips into a thin line. “Good luck with the loneliness.”
He frowned, wondering what that meant, but before he could ask, she reached over and pulled the handle of the door closed. Bridger stood back, confused. He shoved his hands deepinto his pockets and watched her reverse slowly. Her brakes were squeaking. The sound made him wince. It was like nails on a chalkboard.
Kit…Kit?...she pulled to the side and put the car in drive. She offered one last sad smile, and he lifted his hand in a two-fingered wave.
What a fuckin’ mess, he thought as she disappeared down the road and into the trees, headed for the main road that would take her to Coeur d’Alene.
He strode toward Liam’s house.
He needed a Pack meeting called.
Now.
Chapter Two
Kit looked around the hotel room, clutching the handle of her duffle bag in an iron grip.
This place was nice.
Carefully, she set her bag on the bench at the foot of the bed and sank onto the edge of the mattress. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and looked away fast.
Not blond enough.
Not proper enough.
Not enough clothes on.
Bridger had what looked like a brand-new truck, and his house was so nice. He probably had fuckin’ house plants and filtered water and a 401k and stuff.
Her eyes prickled with tears, and she shook her head hard. “Stop it,” she gritted out to herself.
But the thought of going back to her Pack was breaking her heart. They’d all shamed her for signing up for matchmaking. Especially since she’d been pursued by the Second. The only way her Alpha had let her cut ties with the Pack and come here was because she was officially paired. The paperwork had been signed. Plagiarized? What those two werewolves had done was so destructive. It was so messed up. Why had they done that? She thought back to all the flirty conversations and hated herself. She was full of shame. They had been engaging in those conversations, but they were making fun of her all along.
Shame heated her cheeks. She hated that she would have to admit to her Pack that they’d been right, and she’d been wrong.
She was always the wrong one.
What did she even do with the matchmaking? She opened up the last message from Lauren, her and Bridger’smatchmaker. The last text was checking in that Kit was still on time to meet Bridger today.
Kit typed out an explanation that she’d been catfished and Bridger wasn’t real, but another overwhelming wave of shame enveloped her, and she backed out of the text before she could send the message. She tossed her phone onto the bed beside her and curled into a ball, drawing her knees to her chest.
