Page 15 of Someone Else's Wolf

Relax, pal. You're the only one on my agenda tonight.I ate another carrot chunk and watched him thoughtfully. Did he actually believe that, or was he being polite? Either way, he'd gotten distracted again.

"So, you'll talk to Sue?" I asked.

"Sure. But you could've," he insisted. "You'd be a great partner. Someone would snatch you up in an instant." He made eye contact and held it for several seconds, his expression intense. Then he dropped his gaze again.

Still embarrassed about earlier today, or was this a mixed message about choosing partners? He seemed to think I was going to be angry with him, but I wasn't. Annoyed, at most.

"But, yes, I'll reassure her," he said. He picked up the finally finished salad and carried it across to his kitchen table.

"Good." They needed to have that talk — and keep me out of it, if possible.

"So, are you actually interested in the S&P program?" He got meatloaf out of the oven and carried it over with bright green oven mitts.

"Peter, they wouldn't have me in that program for love or money." There, that was a much more polite way to put it, wasn't it? I took a deep breath. "We were all tested. Sue was the only one with any potential at all." I felt exposed saying it out loud like that, but it was the truth, and apparently the only way I was going to get him to shut up about the subject.

He walked over and stood in front of me, staring down at me. Slightly intimidating, to my surprise, and he looked really upset.

I stared back up at him. "What?" He bent down slightly and gathered me up in his arms, lifting me off my feet. Actually off my feet! The hug was tight and made me go "Oof!" He could have set down the oven mitts first.

"Hey, pal. Put me down." I was grinning, though. It felt kind of awesome to be picked up like that, like he just couldn't bear not to.

"Sorry." He set me on my feet, dropped the mitts, then straightened my shirt, fiddling with the edge of it, embarrassed.

"Hey." I caught his hands and held them (big, hairy, strong, masculine hands; oh my). "Look at me. What's the matter? Why does that stress you out?" I held my breath.

He didn't really want me as his partner, did he? The thought made me as uneasy as it had earlier, even if it was flattering. I didn't particularly want to be his partner. I wanted to be his... I don't know what. Boyfriend, maybe? I set that particular bombshell aside to unpick later.

"I'm not—" He put fingers to his brow, pinched the top of his nose. "I just hate to hear you put yourself down, okay? Look, I've met a bunch of people in the program, and you'd be as good as any of them."

I may have snorted. "I'm not. I wouldn't. I don't have the — whatever it is, like Sue does. Drive, I guess." I shrugged, trying — perhaps too hard — to look like I didn't give a shit.

He reached up and tenderly stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers, his gaze gentle. "They'd have loved you. Not everyone has to be a hundred percent driven. And, no, I'm not trying to replace Sue. I can smell you getting nervous. Honestly, I like my partner. I just..." He shook his head, lowering his hand. "No. I'm not going to interfere. But if you wanted to get into the program, I'd get you in, okay?"

My laugh sounded slightly hysterical. "What are you talking about? If they said I couldn't do it, why do you think you could override that?"

"Because I'm a shifter. I'm a wolf, Shane. I know the people in charge, and they'd trust me. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: you'd be perfect. You've got — I don't know. You've got something nice about you. Something trustworthy."

"Nice?"

"You smell good. You're the kind of person shifters trust. I do. Obviously, I also like sleeping with you. But you're worth trusting. Any number of shifters would be glad to partner with you, if you wanted to be part of the program. Believe me, if I can trust you, a lot of people would be leaping all over themselves for the same chance." He said it like it was hard for him to trust. Like I was something special.

The backs of my eyes prickled. I blinked. "I'd never make the grade, even with your recommendation."

"You would. You could." He drew me in to rest against him and kissed the top of my head. His hold was loose and gentle now. I leaned against him, overwhelmed, my arms sliding up around him automatically in a tentative hug, my head abuzz with something that felt like shock.

He really thought I could do it if I wanted to?

He added, "It doesn't matter what their so-called assessor said. My word would carry more weight. So, don't decide anything right now. But if you decide you want in, I'll get you in. You just say the word."

I really didn't know what to say at all. That hadn't been the conversation I'd thought we'd be having. Was that why he'd said it, to change the subject from his handsy-ness at work? But I didn't think so. He'd already apologized about that. And he meant this. He was so earnest, it almost hurt.

His hug, still gentle, got a little more intent. "I didn't upset you, did I?"

I decided to make it into a joke. "What, can't you smell that you didn't?"

His huff of laughter was near my ear — and contagious. I laughed as well.

"I'm not used to you knowing so much about me just by scent," I admitted. "And what you said, well, it's a lot to take in. But, thanks."