Page 3 of Trees Take the Long View

"They didn't give up."

I thought about that for a sec. "I guess that could be inspiring. I mostly like the free food."

He glanced at me again, quickly, looking concerned now. "Do you have trouble getting enough to eat?"

I shrugged.

Food hadn't been the priority to me lately the way it once was. Used to be I could wake up looking forward to breakfast, and my happiest days were the ones with a celebration or social event surrounded by food. That was pretty normal for wolves, being really really into food. I guess you could say we were the original foodies...but maybe not, since we'll eat basically anything. It's more about feeding the massive hunger that fuels our shifter metabolism than just eating things that please us.

Lately I hadn't been as hungry as normal. I ate because it was a thing to do, but sometimes food tasted like sawdust, not particularly interesting or motivational.

"You seem too thin," he told me.

Great, he was studying—critiquing—my body now? I bristled. "I'm slim. Is that a crime?"

He smiled a rueful sort of smile, one side of his mouth twisting higher than the other. It was a particularly arresting look on him, and I looked away. Didn't want him to catch me staring.

"I suppose I could have put that better. What I mean is, the pictures of you in the file, you're not so thin. So this is a new thing, not your natural build, yes?"

I slouched lower in the seat, glaring a little. I decided he didn't actually need an answer. It wasn't a question—not really. I didn't like him judging me—or reading me quite so well.

"It's not a crime," he went on, oblivious to my displeasure or else ignoring it. "But if it's related to what happened, and partly our fault, then we owe it to you to help fix the situation, you see? That's all I meant."

I didn't particularly want him to owe me anything. "It's not your fault. Really."

"Well, your partner let you down and you've been on your own since. I think there's some responsibility for the S&P to try to mitigate your situation."

I snorted. "My situation is fine. I don't want another partner." Someone else to let me down, and break all my illusions about the so-called trustworthy social institutions, and justice in general. "Anyway, weren't we going to talk about this over the meal?"

"Sure. Of course. I got ahead of myself, sorry." He glanced at me self-consciously as he parked at the gym. "I'll wait here, shall I?"

Did he think I'd run out on him? I gave him a tight nod and got out of the car, hurrying into the gym with my shoulders hunched. I hoped I hadn't smelled too sweaty, stinking up his nice car. I really did need that shower.

His warm-hay smell seemed to hang in my nostrils, even as I showered, irritating me with its unforgettableness. I couldn't get it out of my head, out of my nose. He had no right to smell that good. No right at all. What even was he? Just another corporate drone working for the man—the S&P man in this case, but still, the man.

Law enforcement. I wouldn't trust any of 'em again. I'd learned my lesson there.

Something goes wrong—someone breaks the peace, someone behind the thin blue line—and they just close ranks, and that's it. No justice if you're wearing blue. Let me down? My partner betrayed me. He broke my fucking heart. Even though he didn't hurt me at all—he broke me all the same.

#

"What's wrong? Did you want to order something else instead?" Dean faced me across a table for two at one of the nicer restaurants in town. Even in my clean blue jeans and nicest t-shirt, the waiter had looked askance at me when I'd walked in.

Dean was wearing business casual—well-fitted slacks that showed his tight butt, and a t-shirt under a dress jacket. I'd normally think anyone who dressed like that without the job actually requiring it was a bit of a douche, but it looked good on him, I must say. The t-shirt was just thin enough (and tight enough) to show the shape of him, where the suit opened. He had a tight body, intriguing curvature of muscle to his chest and shoulders. I wouldn't have minded a look at his arms; the jacket hid the size of his muscles. I had the feeling he was built, and I wanted to see. I wanted to see quite a lot. And I really shouldn't be a creep about this.

I had felt sober since the shower, all the happiness leeched out of me. Not that there'd been much to begin with, but I had been looking forward to the meal. Now it felt almost like a chore. He wasn't going to be here long, and I shouldn't have trusted him enough to chat with him, even about the fruit trees in the forest. That felt like it should have been private—like so much else about my life. I should have guarded the secret, and instead I'd just given it away. He hadn't even had to ask.

He studied me with his concerned brown eyes. I could almost feel the pressure of it, his presence, his attention not something I could block out. I wished I didn't find him so distracting, so impossible to ignore.

"It's fine," I said at last, only when I realized I hadn't answered him and had let the silence stretch too long. "Don't you need to get busy on your sales pitch?" The meal could only last so long. He'd want to get his power points in.

He smiled at me ruefully, not in the least offended. "I get the feeling you think I'm a direct marketer. It's not like that."

I shrugged, and started playing with my water glass, moving it around, turning it, trying to concentrate on anything but his stupidly handsome mug. Or body. Or warm hay smell. Damn it. I felt less presentable than ever, even though I'd thought my shower would fix that. I shouldn't be so self-conscious around him.

Just being here at this table reminded me of every way I wasn't a catch. And men like him, too handsome and good-smelling, existed in this world with charismatic smiles and soft brown eyes. It wasn't fair. It was entirely unjust.

"What is it like, then?"Why don't we get this over with, okay, and you can stop torturing me with yourself.I tried not to think about why it felt like torture. It was too close to a raw, unraveled edge, and I didn't want to go there, to think along that line.