Chapter 4

Marcus POV

I should be relieved that my first day on the job involves a call out, something to distract me from the callosal cock up I made the other night. I still can't decide whether my mistake was almost bedding the Alpha's daughter in the territory where my new job is, or not bringing her home with me as I had planned from the very first second that I saw her. She captivated me like no woman ever has. Leila is different. Hot, yes, but funny too. Sassy, with a wicked smile, and a playful personality.

When I took her out for that slow dance and she wrapped her slender arms around me, resting her head against my chest, I felt protectiveness rush through me. My bear was demanding we go home and make her ours right then, and maybe I should have listened to him because everything went to shit after that. Damn it, why am I even torturing myself by thinking about her again. But I can’t stop. She’s all I can think about.

Her dad being Alpha Jones shouldn't matter. She's a grown woman and all alpha. She can do what she wants. It does matter though, because if he found out, he has enough clout to get me sacked before I’ve even gotten my feet under the desk. There would be no dating his daughter if I’m driven out of town by the local pack. I didn’t want things to be awkward for her if that happens. But things are still going to be awkward, except now it'll be because I was an ass who didn’t explain myself properly, and she hates me. I should never have let her walk out of that bar.

Fuck I'm an idiot.

Maybe it's for the best though, because Leila is the kind of woman that anyone with half a brain would turn their life upside down for, and she deserves the best. Far better than some small-town sheriff who'd never fit in with her fancy lifestyle. An alpha female like that is probably destined to be mated to some hotshot with a pack, entertaining and wining and dining her in a way that I can. Staying away from her to avoid temptation is probably the best course of action, no matter how much I hate the idea.

I pull up at the side of the road and see where the motorbike slid across the road before wedging itself underneath a pickup heading the other direction. Thankfully the driver of the bike was thrown clear rather than being crushed underneath it. The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance are reflected in the thin layer of water covering the tarmac and on the shiny chrome of the motorbike. The road is slick after a heavy downpour, which provided enough surface water that any sensible rider would have left the bike at home this evening.

The tow truck operator works on trying to separate the two vehicles while I head for the back of the ambulance, hoping that the unlucky rider wasn't too badly hurt. My heavy boots thud against the step as I haul myself out of the rain and into the back before I look up and find myself looking into the very same eyes that tortured me the last couple of nights.

"You," I say bluntly, stunned by her being right in front of me when I was just thinking about her, and immediately want to slap a palm to my forehead for being such a dick. I'm just unprepared for seeing her again so soon, but it sounded like an accusation the way it came out. Her eyes narrow at me, and I see the same glint of fire in them that I saw last night. She's dressed casually, in black jeans and boots, a white t-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, but she has a black leather bag open beside her and a stethoscope strung around her neck. She’s even more beautiful than I remember. And she’s working, which means this type of encounter could happen regularly. My bear is ecstatic but if I’m trying to stay away from her, this is the last thing I need.

"Yes, me," she says coolly as she returns her attention to the young man in leathers, lying on the gurney in front of her. The fact that he was wearing proper gear appears to have saved him from worse injuries. I can't smell much blood and he's a shifter, his enhanced healing powers will have him back in perfect shape in no time at all.

"Doctor Jones?" He asks seriously, looking up at her like a little puppy dog, all wide-eyed and innocent, but I’m not buying it. "I'm a bit worried." He's probably mid-twenties, a wolf, in good physical shape, and not badly hurt. I'm not sure what he thinks he has to worry about, other than the cost of fixing up his bike.

"Oh no, are you ok? Have you pain in your abdomen?" Leila frowns and lifts his shirt to examine his torso, pressing his abdomen, obviously worried he may have internal injuries that need to be looked at urgently. I swear to God he tenses his abs to show off his six-pack as she touches him and I fight the urge to punch him in his stupid, handsome face.  

"I have a pain here," he gestures to his breastbone and Leila places her stethoscope to his chest, "because I'm worried if I tell you I'm fine, I won't get to see you again." A shy smile creeps across his face as he delivers his best line and Leila laughs softly and swats him gently on the arm. He flexes his pecs for good measure, and she rolls her eyes before lowering his t-shirt to cover his wash-board stomach. I can't help the loud groan that escapes me, and she shoots me a look.

"I can already tell you're going to be just fine." She says kindly and winks. Watching their banter makes my blood boil and I can hear my pulse roaring in my ears. Does she have to deal with that rubbish while she’s working all of the time?

"For fucks sake," I growl and stomp back out of the ambulance, preferring to stand in the lashing rain than listen to that punk trying to put the moves on Leila for another second.

"Is there a problem Sheriff?" Leila asks, as she follows me out, finished with her examination and happy for the ambulance to take him away. I grit my teeth at her refusal to use my name. I loved how it had rolled off her tongue every time she teased me, it had felt so intimate, so right. This just felt all wrong.

"No," I bark out, much too quickly to be convincing. She pauses for a second to look at me, seemingly not bothered by the fact that rain is running down her face and plastering her now-soaked shirt to her tight little body. She scoffs, clearly disappointed by my unwillingness to admit that there was a problem, a big problem, with someone hitting on the person who, in an ideal world, should be my woman.

God, she looks good. But there’s a sadness in her eyes that her smile isn’t hiding. She can’t look this miserable just because of me, can she? It kills me to know that I have hurt her.

"Fine, be that way. I have enough shit to deal with at the moment, I can’t do this," she says seriously, as she opens the door to her car and climbs behind the wheel, before following the flashing blue and red lights into the distance.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Her answer made me pause, what else was going on? I want to know her, I want to know about her life, if something is going on that’s causing her pain, I want to fix it. I want to be there for her. It’s complicated, and for a simple bear like me, this is hell.