Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven 1)

The phone over on Peter’s desk rang and Lydia jumped. When the thing rang a second time, she reached across and snagged the receiver.

“Hello?” she said.

There was a period of silence. “Hello?” she repeated.

Click.

Hanging up, she went out front to the windows in the waiting room. As Candy glanced over from a spreadsheet of names, a white Mercedes SUV Lydia had never seen before tore out of the parking lot, kicking up gravel.

“I’m going to miss him,” Candy muttered. “Like the black flies in June.”

Lydia looked across. Then cleared her throat. “Did you just put a call through to Peter’s phone?”

“Yeah. It was from his ass, requesting he relocate his head back to where it belongs. Things are crowded down there, and very dark—”

“I’m serious. Did a call come in for him?”

Candy frowned. “No, but he’s got his own direct line.”

With a feeling of foreboding, Lydia went back into the man’s office. Glancing around, she took note of the three diplomas on the wall. The arrangement of office equipment on the desk. The lineup of book spines on the shelves. The coat rack that had a cardigan slowly distorting from having been hung on a hook by its collar tag.

“Why did you really come in today,” she murmured as she stared at his chair. “What were you looking for …”

“What’re you doing?” Candy asked from the doorway.

Lydia answered absently. “I’m going to be in here for a little while. I don’t want anybody coming in.”

“Rick’s the only other person around.”

“Even Rick.”

Candy’s expression froze. “What’s going on, Lydia?”

“I’m going to find out.”

As the sun was getting low in the sky, Daniel finally put the hammer back where he’d found it in the equipment building. Which was randomly on a workbench that had lived a very hard life. Any more hunks out of its top and only God would know what it was.

When he turned around, he stopped. “I didn’t hear you.”

The woman who had been on his mind all afternoon was standing in the open garage bay, the sun streaming in from behind her. Like she was glowing.

“I guess two can play at the stealth game.” Lydia glanced down at the concrete floor. “Anyway, I came to—”

“Can I ask you something?”

She seemed to hesitate before she looked up again. “Sure. Don’t know if I can answer whatever it is, but I’ll give it a shot.”

“Does the sunlight always find you?”

Her head pulled back a little, as if he’d surprised her. “I’m sorry—what?”

Reaching across to the workbench, he grabbed a red chamois cloth. The thing was stained, but not as badly as all the others. As he wiped his palms, he took his time with the job.

“Just wondering.” He shrugged. “Out on the porch, and now, here? Seems as though the sun likes you.”

He didn’t glance back over because he wanted her to hold the moment in, and he knew if he made eye contact, she’d be compelled to brush it off. Change the subject. Move along.

“I’m not sure what to say to that,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“It was a question.”

“More like a rhetorical, really.” Now he looked at her. “Sorry if I’ve made things awkward.”

“You haven’t.”

“You’re lying.” He shrugged again. “But it looks like I’m the one who owes you an apology. I’m crossing all kinds of boundaries here, aren’t I. I’m not a scumbag, I promise.”

“I know you’re not.”

“No, you don’t. But I’ll prove it to you.” He let half his mouth lift in a smile. “I guess I’m not used to this.”

“To what.”

He lowered his lids. “Do you really want me to answer that.”

She cleared her throat and put her hands on her hips. “No, I think it’s probably better for us that you don’t. Anyway, I came out here to say I’m sorry for the way I was out on the porch. I have no right to make any insinuations about you or your life. I let my frustration get the best of me, and not only was it unfair, it was unprofessional. So yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I really—”

“I can’t even remember what you said, to be honest.” He put the rag back down. “I’m not much for short-term memories—and yup, that probably is part of the drifter thing.”

“I don’t judge you,” she said with earnest eyes.

Man, he could stand to be looked at like that for a while. By her, specifically.

“It’s fine if you do judge me. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t really care what people think of me.” As a strange feeling vibrated into his chest, he pointed overhead. “So about the roof. Sorry the repair out here took me so long. After I fixed the obvious damage from that tree falling, I found a bunch of loose shingles on the north side—probably because that’s where the storms come from. Things should be stable going forward. The light bulbs are changed on the main building, and I’ll be back on Monday to start the bridge work. Weather’s going to be nice—what.”