Devon sat in the backyard watching his kids run around and play. Marcus was letting Sebastian chase and catch him, while Tabitha was in her pink playhouse. Through the tiny window, he could see she placed her dolls around the table, all facing her, as she read to them.

The simplicity of the moment sunk into his being, relaxing him more than he had been in weeks. The last-minute decision to take off early was probably the best idea he’d made in a while. Sure, making the excuse that he wanted to spend time with his old friend and potential new employee wasn’t precisely true. However, he wasn’t about to admit that he needed to put distance between him and Dr. Greene. And he surely wasn’t about to acknowledge the overpowering urge coursing through his veins to hunt her down, or his tiger’s insistence they take her to the ground and mate her.

The clink of Jack’s empty beer bottle hitting the concrete patio pulled Devon from his wayward thoughts. It dawned on him that his friend had been quieter than usual while polishing it off.

“What’s up with you?” Devon asked before tipping his own beer bottle back.

“I was wondering the same thing about you. I’ve never known you to be so rude to a woman before. Usually, you’re charming the pants off them without even trying. Not that you ever take them up on it. Which, if you ask me, and I know you didn’t, but I’m still putting it out there, is a crying shame. There’s nothing that says you can’t take a little time for yourself and give into your sexual needs. You do still have them, right?”

Devon snorted and shrugged. “I do. I’m stressed, that’s all. I didn’t intend to come across as abrasive with her. It just came out of my mouth before I could stop it.” He didn’t have a better rebuttal. Anything he said would be an excuse for poor behavior. He knew he was being rude when he had spoken so harshly. There was something about the woman that flipped some kind of switch inside him. She did something to him on a level he didn’t understand, and it would take being around her more than the handful of times before he could figure it out.

The day she accidentally bumped into him, touching him for the first time, he’d felt something—a jolt, a nudge, a push to be near her—whatever it was, he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Her quick escape negated any need for him to delve into what he felt. Whatever had happened dissipated in the blink of an eye. At the end of the day, he decided it was a fluke. Narrowing the incident down to the stress of the day and the surprise visit from his friend. Having a beautiful woman run in to you would mess any guy up.

And when did you decide she was beautiful?

“There’s more to it. You didn’t want me to have anything to do with her. Touch her. Talk to her. Invite her for coffee. I know it can’t be because she’s a hybrid. You have nothing against them or humans. Your family is a big supporter of embracing everyone as they are. The Cleansing hitting too close to home for it to be any other way.”

Devon nodded. “You’re right. It isn’t because she’s a hybrid,” Devon confirmed. He fidgeted in his chair, becoming a bit uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, and not because of The Cleansing.

Yes, it had been a dire time in the history of shifters. A few truly powerful Purists with the ability to convince the Guild, the ruling body of all shifters, that all hybrids should be destroyed. The Cleansing took the lives of family members on Devon’s mother’s side. All of them mated to or courting humans or shifters not of their kind. It was a wakeup call to the evil that wormed its way into the hearts of their leaders and to those who followed blindly and without question.

No, it was talk of Carolline that distressed him. When it came to her, he was having a hard time figuring out up from down. His heart stuttered in his chest with excitement, while his brain told him he was being untrue.

“What’s the issue then? You can’t be jealous of her agreeing to go out with me, right?”

Jack studied him, and Devon did his best to hide the sudden tension threading through his shoulders and back. He smothered the impulse to growl at Jack, and was grateful when Tabitha came running up. “Papa, I want to be a princess,” she stated calmly.

Devon scooped her up and put her on his lap. “You’re already a Princess,” he said tapping her button nose.

“No, I’m not. I don’t have a crown.” She held out the book he’d failed to notice. She blinked her innocent green eyes at him, melting his heart.

“A crown would make you a princess?” he asked.

“Yes. We read this today, and it’s about a Princess and she had a crown, and a pink bed, and a pink room, and a pink teddy bear, and a green frog.”

“Not a pink frog?” Jack teased her.

Tabitha’s brows furrowed. “Why would a frog be pink, Uncle Jack? Frogs are green. Sometimes brown, and my teacher said there is a black one. I’ve only ever seen a green one. Marcus showed it to me, then it jumped off his hand and onto me. I screamed. A lot,” she nodded eagerly.

“Where was I when this happened?”

“We were with Nana and Pop-Pop. You were at work. Pop-Pop laughed and laughed. Nana wasn’t so happy. I think it was because Pop-Pop let one jump on her too when she was little.”

Devon didn’t think that was the reason, but decided to just go with it. “I’m sure you’re right. So, about this crown.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I want this.” Flipping to the last page, she pointed to a little brown-haired girl who was covered in mud and grinning, wearing a pink tiara and holding a small green frog.

Devon squinted. There was something sitting on top of the frog’s head. “Is that a crown on the frog’s head?”

“Yes. He’s a prince. I don’t think Marcus and Sebastian are princes,” she announced. “They stink too much.”

Tabitha closed her book and hopped off his lap. Her face very serious when she looked at him. “Will you make me a princess?”

Devon grinned as Jack chuckled. “Since you’re already my princess, I think it can be arranged.”

“I need a crown.”

“Okay, Sweet pea. I’ll get you a crown,” he said.

“Thank you, Papa.” Tabitha kissed him on the cheek, then ran off back to her playhouse.

“Do you even know where to buy a crown?”

“Technically, it’s a tiara,” Devon said.

Jack smirked. “Whatever. Do you know where to get one?”

Not a clue. “Sure.”

Devon didn’t think Jack believed him, based on his friend’s snort. Devon could figure it out. He was a thirty-two-year-old man. Surely, he could find a pink tiara for his little girl. He idly wondered if Carolline would know where to get one, and if she’d be willing to help him out.