Page 2 of Someone Else's Wolf

"Give me that." I made a lunge for it.

He let me wrest it from him without a fight. "Darn. I guess it's yours now." His grin was easy, rather sweet. He kicked his heels lightly against the side of the desk. He really did have a nice personality. I shouldn't be as pissed off at him as I was. It wasn't his fault Sue was being rude to me and not explaining why.

Maybe she doesn't need a reason. Maybe that's just how she is.I looked at Peter as I stuffed the donut into my mouth. It shouldn't taste as good as it did.Or maybe she thinks I'm trying to steal her partner.

"Good, is it?" His little smirk was too much.

"I'll get a donut belly, and it'll be your fault," I said in a muffled voice, around a mouthful of crumbs.

"Well, maybe you should eat breakfast before you come to work," Peter said in an unwholesomely reasonable tone.

"Maybe you should mind your own breakfast," I growled at him.

"Oh, I do." He patted his completely flat midsection, looking smug. "Believe me, I have my priorities in order."

I flipped him off, finished the donut, and reached over to wipe my sugar-sticky hands on his shirt. That made him flinch away and laugh in surprise. He definitely wasn't holding a secret grudge against me and complaining to his partner. Nope, this had to be her issue. Maybe she actually thought I was trying to steal her partner.

For a moment, pride flamed: that she could actually consider me something like competition. Everybody knew I wasn't a real go-getter. Nothing special, just your average cop. It had gotten harder and harder for me to take much satisfaction from that lately. I guess I was somewhat burned out. Anyway, it was flattering that she was paranoid enough to think I was a worthy adversary — if that's what it had all been about.

I grinned as he pushed me away and hopped off the desk. He wouldn't get in trouble for horsing around during working hours. The boss would never call Peter on the carpet! But, still. It was good he wasn't going to sit there all day. I could still get into trouble, after all — possibly for distracting the department's most valuable resource.

I wonder if the captain thinks I'm trying to "steal" him too. Ha!As if anyone could steal a wolf.

Peter gave me a little grin that disappeared quickly as he reached for my hand. "What happened to your wrist?"

He turned my hand over, and I could feel the strength of him in that simple movement. It was a surprise to remember he was probably twice as strong as I was, at least. Then he pushed my sleeve up far enough to study my wrist. Having him take hold of me like that left me feeling momentarily stunned, bare and exposed, vulnerable. Not that he was rough. But he had a lot of power concealed in that ordinary-looking, rangy body.

His hands were warm and strong. He shouldn't be showing so much open concern. "Hey. I'm fine. Let go." I tugged, letting him know I wanted to be set free.

He released me reluctantly, looking up at me, his green eyes searching my face worriedly. "What happened?"

"Just a scratch."

He didn't seem any less concerned. "What happened?"

"Would you quit? I scratched myself on a shopping cart. It's not the end of the world."

Juan tried to hide a smirk. "Your girlfriend shouldn't let you shop alone, man."

Inwardly, I froze. I liked to think I wasn't showing anything on the outside, but my heart was hammering. If Peter knew I was gay, and wanted to, he could make my life hell right now, with little more than a raised eyebrow and a snide remark. ("Oh, your girlfriend, eh?") I hoped he wouldn't.

"How sexist are you, Juan?" Peter said, his voice teasing with fake indignation. "I bet you think women should do all the shopping and cooking."

Juan raised his hands. "Hey, man, it worked for my parents. Nobody cooks like my mom. Have you tried my dad's cooking? No, you haven't. Well, I'll tell you: it tastes like shit. Like barbequed shit."

"How did we get on this topic?" I demanded.

"You getting yourself hurt," said Peter. He looked as though he was going to take hold of my hand again, so I quickly shoved them both under my desk and gave him a stern look.

Juan laughed out loud at Peter. "Look at that. You're so protective, and he never did nothing for you, man. Me, now, I bring you coffee, I help you with your files." Juan waved a hand vaguely, indicating how generally helpful he was. He shook his head in mock dismay. "Where's my donut and sympathy?"

"Hey," I said. "I help. I'm fucking helpful."

"Yeah," another cop, Lockett, agreed sardonically. "You didn't stick your leg out and trip him. That's pretty helpful, for you."

I wasn't that bad, was I? I rolled my eyes, turning back to my work. Shouldn't everybody mind their own business?

"I'll bring you one next time," Peter promised Juan. His smile was nice. He really was a sweet guy — pleasant, a bit socially awkward, cute and dorky. With those shockingly green eyes.