lap.
The door swung open. The man who poked his head through didn’t look like the man that Rylie had been speaking to on the phone. He was built like a bear in business casual, with refined wings of gray hair on either side of his head. Rylie blinked, surprised.
But then he opened his mouth.
“Miss Gresham?” Yeah, he definitely sounded like the guy from the Beegees.
“Bert,” she said, extending her hand. They shook.
Bert’s eyes flicked to the others in his waiting room. He doubtlessly would have preferred to meet with Jessica, who looked like she belonged in such a fancy office, but he would have to settle for Rylie in her cowboy boots and floaty white skirt.
“Can I get you anything?” he squeaked. “Cappuccino? Tea?”
Rylie hated both, but she was tempted to ask for a cappuccino just to make him serve her. “No, thanks,” she said, following him into his office.
She knew that something was wrong the instant that the door clicked shut behind her. Bert kept casting weird glances at her, fidgeting with the snifter of whiskey on his bookshelf, adjusting his collar, flattening his pockets. All of the paperwork was spread over his desk, yet the air was thick with fear. Was he worried the deal would fall through?
In between his fidgeting fits, he managed to gesture at the chair. “Have a seat, please.”
Rylie stayed by the door.
“Where’s the notary?” she asked.
“She already notarized everything.”
She leaned forward to peer at the paperwork. He was right—it was already stamped and signed. Weren’t notaries meant to be witnesses? Rylie had no idea. Being an Alpha hadn’t given her any experience with contracts.
To heck with it. Might as well ask. “That’s not normal, is it?”
“Considering the nature of this deal, I thought it might help to speed things up,” Bert said, perching on the edge of his chair. He spread out a few forms, then put his hands in his lap again. He glanced at the wall clock. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
Rylie bit her bottom lip. She wished she had brought Abel in with her.
“I’ll take water, I guess,” she said. “I’ll grab it.”
He stood so quickly that his chair rolled away from him. “No, please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get it.”
Bert’s smile was fixed to his face as he strode to the door, giving Rylie a wide berth. She watched him go with growing unease.
He didn’t smell like a threat. In fact, the scent of fear was extremely appealing to her inner wolf. It wanted her to drop to the floor and roll in it. Fortunately, that idea was disgusting enough to her human side that she didn’t do it. But she couldn’t quite resist the urge to trace her fingertips over the back of his chair and smell them. Her eyelids dropped closed at the heady scent of fear. The smell of a prey in the sights of a predator.
Rylie’s eyes popped open.
Did Robert Grant know that she was a werewolf?
She peered through the crack in the door to see him talking to Jessica. Abel stood by the front windows, watching the street outside. Rylie didn’t see any “We Report Preternaturals” signs. He didn’t even have the OPA emblem sticker on anything, which had become a common way for mundane humans to display support for anti-preternatural laws.
Rylie backed away from the door as he approached, pretending that she had been beside his desk the entire time.
“Here you go,” Bert said. Instead of handing the water bottle to her, he set it on the corner of the desk.
“Thanks,” she said, lowering herself to the chair. “Where do I sign?”
He had been the one to suggest that they check out the land he was selling together, so it was surprising that he readily handed her a pen without asking to go into the mountains. He wiped his palms dry on his slacks as she began to sign.
Bert seemed to flip the pages too slowly, no matter how quickly she signed. Almost like he was wasting time.
As each page turned, the tension in the air
The door swung open. The man who poked his head through didn’t look like the man that Rylie had been speaking to on the phone. He was built like a bear in business casual, with refined wings of gray hair on either side of his head. Rylie blinked, surprised.
But then he opened his mouth.
“Miss Gresham?” Yeah, he definitely sounded like the guy from the Beegees.
“Bert,” she said, extending her hand. They shook.
Bert’s eyes flicked to the others in his waiting room. He doubtlessly would have preferred to meet with Jessica, who looked like she belonged in such a fancy office, but he would have to settle for Rylie in her cowboy boots and floaty white skirt.
“Can I get you anything?” he squeaked. “Cappuccino? Tea?”
Rylie hated both, but she was tempted to ask for a cappuccino just to make him serve her. “No, thanks,” she said, following him into his office.
She knew that something was wrong the instant that the door clicked shut behind her. Bert kept casting weird glances at her, fidgeting with the snifter of whiskey on his bookshelf, adjusting his collar, flattening his pockets. All of the paperwork was spread over his desk, yet the air was thick with fear. Was he worried the deal would fall through?
In between his fidgeting fits, he managed to gesture at the chair. “Have a seat, please.”
Rylie stayed by the door.
“Where’s the notary?” she asked.
“She already notarized everything.”
She leaned forward to peer at the paperwork. He was right—it was already stamped and signed. Weren’t notaries meant to be witnesses? Rylie had no idea. Being an Alpha hadn’t given her any experience with contracts.
To heck with it. Might as well ask. “That’s not normal, is it?”
“Considering the nature of this deal, I thought it might help to speed things up,” Bert said, perching on the edge of his chair. He spread out a few forms, then put his hands in his lap again. He glanced at the wall clock. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
Rylie bit her bottom lip. She wished she had brought Abel in with her.
“I’ll take water, I guess,” she said. “I’ll grab it.”
He stood so quickly that his chair rolled away from him. “No, please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get it.”
Bert’s smile was fixed to his face as he strode to the door, giving Rylie a wide berth. She watched him go with growing unease.
He didn’t smell like a threat. In fact, the scent of fear was extremely appealing to her inner wolf. It wanted her to drop to the floor and roll in it. Fortunately, that idea was disgusting enough to her human side that she didn’t do it. But she couldn’t quite resist the urge to trace her fingertips over the back of his chair and smell them. Her eyelids dropped closed at the heady scent of fear. The smell of a prey in the sights of a predator.
Rylie’s eyes popped open.
Did Robert Grant know that she was a werewolf?
She peered through the crack in the door to see him talking to Jessica. Abel stood by the front windows, watching the street outside. Rylie didn’t see any “We Report Preternaturals” signs. He didn’t even have the OPA emblem sticker on anything, which had become a common way for mundane humans to display support for anti-preternatural laws.
Rylie backed away from the door as he approached, pretending that she had been beside his desk the entire time.
“Here you go,” Bert said. Instead of handing the water bottle to her, he set it on the corner of the desk.
“Thanks,” she said, lowering herself to the chair. “Where do I sign?”
He had been the one to suggest that they check out the land he was selling together, so it was surprising that he readily handed her a pen without asking to go into the mountains. He wiped his palms dry on his slacks as she began to sign.
Bert seemed to flip the pages too slowly, no matter how quickly she signed. Almost like he was wasting time.
As each page turned, the tension in the air
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