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conditioner. I’ve written love poems about this conditioner.

I grab the keys and hop into the truck. My brother lives in a nice house on the outskirts of town. It’s about a ten-minute drive to the general store, but it takes me about twenty. I haven’t driven in a long time and I’m a little rusty.

“Sorry!” I shout through the closed window at no one in particular as I drive over the curb while I’m turning into the parking lot. My heart is pounding when I finally turn the engine off and sit there in silence.

The tantalizing thought of my conditioner carries me forward and I hop out of the truck and head inside the store. I’ve lived in Belgrade Springs for my entire life and I must have been in this store thousands of times, but it looks so different. Everything looks so different.

This town that was my whole world growing up, that always seemed to be larger than life, looks so small and quaint after roaming through the bustling streets of Paris and standing in front of the Colosseum in Rome. My whole perspective has changed. I guess that’s what traveling does to you.

But still, once I’m standing in the shampoo aisle and staring at my favorite coconut scented volumizing conditioner, I realize I’m still the same old person as before.

I load up on three bottles, promising myself that I won’t skimp out when I’m using it, and I head to the cash.

A huge masculine body comes out of nowhere and bumps into me. One of the big bottles slips from my arms and slams onto the ground. Conditioner sprays up all over our legs.

“I’m sorry!” I say as I look up into the man’s eyes.

Oh my God… The spinning planet screeches to a stop. Everything stops. My breathing. My heart. Time itself.

It’s all put on hold as I stare into this mysterious man’s breathtaking brown eyes.

They grip my core. They pull me in. They ravage me and leave my pulse racing.

The top of the conditioner is off and making a glugging sound as it pours onto the floor. I catch myself and dip down to pick it up.

The man drops to a knee, never taking his eyes off me as the slippery bottle slips through my fingers and hits the ground again.

“Oops,” I gasp as I put it upright. I look back at him, this time not just his eyes but everything. He’s gorgeous. Not in the traditional Hollywood actor or model sort of way. He doesn’t have any of those girlish features. Oh no. This guy is all man. One hundred percent hard alpha masculine energy.

His eyes are rough and hard like he’s seen a lot of things in his life that would give a lesser mortal like me nightmares. He has a long thick beard and a black beanie over his head. I could stare at his face for hours, but his body is begging for attention as well.

It’s huge. All hard carved muscle straining against his clothes. I swallow hard as I look over his torso with his big shoulders and massive chest. His arms are thick and strong with a sexy sleeve of tattoos running down his right arm.

“I’m sorry,” I say when I spot conditioner all over his tattooed arm. I start wiping it off with my hand. He’s got me so flustered that I didn’t even ask before I touched him. I’m sliding my hands over his hard slippery forearm and the feel of his hot skin is making my pussy throb.

I now have white conditioner all over my hand and nowhere to put it.

He groans when he looks at my fingers rubbing together. Oh shit. It looks like I just gave a hand job. No wonder he’s groaning.

“You got some on your pants,” I say as I shake my head in disbelief. “I’ll let you take care of that.”

He’s not saying a word as I try to get myself together. He hasn’t taken his smoldering eyes off me.

“I better get one of the workers to help clean this up before someone slips and cracks their head open. Can you stay here for a second?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he says in a deep voice that sounds like it’s full of anguish.

“Riiggght,” I say as I stare at him. “I’ll be right back.”

I hurry away, disappearing around an aisle as I head for the cash. His words keep replaying in my head. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave you.

It’s strange because I don’t want to leave him either. What the hell is up with that?

I almost feel a pull urging me to go back to him, begging me to return to his side. My whole body is tingling and aching the further I get.

“Hello,” the cashier says with a smile as I approach her. “Did you find what you need?”

For the first time in my life, I feel like I have found what I need.

I turn back and see the man’s head over the aisles in the distance. He’s still watching me and his heated gaze is still sending shivers rippling through my body.

Did you find what you need?

Why does it feel like the answer is him?

“Miss?” the cashier says when all I do is stand there like a dope. “Are you okay?”

Did you find what you need?

It hits me.

The reason why I’ve felt something lacking. Why I’ve felt empty and alone. Like I’ve only had one piece of my soul.

He’s my mate. He’s what I’ve been desperately missing. My other half.

I always felt so jealous of my brother that he would one day have this epic all-consuming love affair that only mates can have. I didn’t think it would be in my cards because I’m human.

I never thought that I could be mated to a shifter. The thought never crossed my mind.

Now I can’t get rid of it.

That’s my mate?!

What does this mean?

As ridiculous as it sounds, I know it’s true. I know it through

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