Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven #1) by J.R. Ward

“You’re frowning.”

“Am?” she asked. “I mean, am I? I was actually just so relieved that you’ve made some progress on anything around here. It all just seems so … insurmountable at the moment. Even a new bulb is a miracle to me.”

Her hands shook a little as she raised them to her face. Pressing them into her eyes, she looked like she was trying to gouge things out.

“Long day?” he said softly.

“They’re all that way lately.”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s just how things have been.” Her eyes went to the main building. “You know, it makes me think about something my grandfather always said. Reality is like a coin. It has a front and a back, and you can only see one side at a time.”

“What exactly’s unclear to you?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” She swiped her hand as if to bat her words away. “So do you have a place to stay here in town yet? You know, for when you return.”

“I’ve got a couple of leads.”

“Have you met Shirley? Down at Walters Realty? If you need a reference, I’ll be happy to give you one.”

“Even though I’m just skating through life?”

She flushed. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

He shrugged again. “I don’t want to remember what you said. How about that.”

“I did insult you, then.”

“No, you linger. And I don’t like things that linger.”

As her eyebrows went up, he found himself feeling the same kind of surprised.

“I didn’t just say that,” he muttered.

“Didn’t you?”

“Nope.” He shook his head as he stared across at her. “I did not.”

Lydia looked away. Looked back. “Daniel Joseph, never Danny, I suspect still waters run deep with you.”

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure. Hit me.”

“What’s the actual policy on employees at the Wolf Study having dinner together?” He put his hands forward. “I’m not asking about you. I want to know if I can take Candy out. I think she’s single and I’m feeling lucky next week.”

Lydia started to smile. “You’ll have to talk to HR about that.”

“Who’s HR?”

“I guess I am. Considering our executive director is a little distracted right now.”

Daniel took a step forward, simply because his body wanted to be closer to her. “So, Ms. HR. Can I have dinner with you or not.”

The flush that hit her face looked nice, the color accenting her cheeks … the column of her throat … her lips.

“I thought this was about Candy?”

“I lied because I was trying not to be obvious. That way, if it wasn’t allowed, I wouldn’t have egg on my face with you.”

“And yet you blew your cover.”

“What can I say, I’m not a good liar.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “So what do you think. Just dinner. Nothing else—and it can be in a public place, too. You know, in case I’m a masher.”

“Are you a masher?”

“No, I’m not.” He thumbed out toward his motorcycle. “I have my anti-Masher ID in my wallet over there.”

“I didn’t know there was a governmental agency that dealt with masher clearance.”

“There are all kinds of federal nooks-and-crannies agencies like that.”

“Ah. The more you know.” She nodded toward his bike. “So Paul took care of you, huh?”

“Yup. And you think about dinner, although not this weekend, of course. I’ve got to go get my things, not that I have much.”

“Minimalism is underappreciated.” She laughed. “I’m funny.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He leaned in. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

Her eyes went lower—to his mouth—and then popped right back up to meet his stare. “Daniel …”

He put his palm out. “Wait, I know what you’re going to say.”

“And what’s that.”

“You’re not looking for complications.” Daniel shrugged. “But see, that’s the good thing about drifters. We’re not looking for anything serious, either.”

“Then why even start with dinner?”

“Considering that your background is in biology, I’m surprised I have to explain how the human body works. You know, food intake, the conversion of fats, carbs, and proteins into energy? It’s kind of necessary for life.” As she gave him a look, he said, “You want me to get a whiteboard and a marker? Maybe some diagrams would help—”

“Okay, see, you’ve already lied to me once.”

“Oh?”

“You do have a sense of humor.”

As someone came out of the rear of the building, they both looked toward the parking area. That vet, Rick, pushed a pair of glasses up higher on his hawkish nose. When he noticed that he was being watched, he did a double take and slowed his stride.

Then he lowered his head and went on to his car.

“I have to go catch Rick, hold on.”

With a lithe stride, she jogged out and intercepted the Jeep’s reversing. Leaning in as the driver’s side window was lowered, she went into some kind of back-and-forth with the man. And then she nodded and stepped back, giving the guy a little wave.