Page 3 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

“I don’t.” He nods toward the backseat. “You want to grab the bags?”

I push the door open and step out into the rain, and he tilts his umbrella to cover both of us. When he does, our eyes meet, and my heart nearly stops in my chest.

Oh shit.

Of all the people to run into in this tiny cramped town, why does it have to be him?

Piercing gray eyes, a chiseled face, and thick, dark, curly hair that is tied in a small bun at the base of his neck, Marcus Steele has not aged in the last ten years. And as he gazes down at me, it’s obvious he hasn’t recognized me either.

His nostrils flare for a second, and he gives me a curious look. “Am I that scary?”

“Scary?” I squeak.

“You look terrified,” he points out slowly.

“Terrified,” I repeat like a parrot.

Amusement enters his eyes. “Okay, let’s get you in the car or we’ll be out here all night with you just repeating after me.” He hands me the umbrella, closing my fist around the handle carefully as if he’s worried I’ll drop it. “Go sit in the passenger seat. I’ll get your groceries.”

It’s only when he steps away from me that I let myself breathe, taking a few steps away from my car to his.

Oh God. This is the worst possible thing to happen. I have to get myself out of this situation! If he finds out about—

Umbrella shielding me from the rain, I turn around. “You know what, maybe I’ll just wait for the—”

He’s walking toward me with the grocery bags in hand, soaked to the skin, and I can only stare at those pecs. The flare of attraction is completely unwanted. I shouldn’t look at him like this. Not after what he did. I just need to—

“Get in.” He frowns, clearly annoyed by my indecisiveness. He carries my groceries through the rain and puts them in the backseat. I have no choice but to follow. I get into the passenger seat, closing the umbrella and leaning it against my leg. As I fidget with the seat belt, he gets in the car.

He’s dripping water, and despite everything, I am mortified.

I should be angry, but the fear of being recognized by this man who turned me away from his door more than ten years ago is too overwhelming. I wet my lips. “Thanks.”

He glances at me. “Sure. You would have been out there all night.”

As he starts the car, he asks, “So you’re a tourist or—?”

“We just moved here.” My voice is faint. “My daughter and I.”

His eyes go to my hand, and he observes lightly, “What about your husband?”

My fingers immediately touch the empty ring finger, and I rub the place where a band would be. “I—He works overseas. We see him a few times a year.”

The lie is pure survival instinct.

“Oh.” The soft disappointment in his tone has me grinding my teeth, a wave of unbridled anger washing over me. I catch him glancing my way again, this time confusion in those gray eyes of his.

“Where do you live?”

“Why?” I snap.

Marcus blinks. “Ah, so I can drop you home?”

My eyes flutter shut in embarrassment. “Oh.”

I rattle off my address, and he makes a U-turn, leading us back the way I had come.

“Where does this road lead?” I ask, looking over my shoulder.