Lyra couldn’t ignore the delicious ache between her legs as she walked into the hospital. It had been there all morning, since she said goodbye to Jake in the packhouse lobby, through breakfast with Trisha and Megan, and now as she entered the hospital’s front atrium, scanning for Dylan Rockwell.
“Miss Hart.”
She turned to see Dylan standing near the elevators, his black hair slicked back, a pair of rimless glasses perched on his crooked nose. He had the sagging jowls of a bloodhound and had long gone soft around the middle, but there was something comforting about him. A warm, grandfatherly presence that put her at ease.
“Dr. Rockwell,” she greeted with a smile. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“My pleasure.” He shook her hand. “When the Alpha suggested it, I thought it was a wonderful idea.
