Someone down the hall snorts. I don’t turn to look.
“And you.” She jabs a finger toward my chest. “You come down from your mountain to complain about forty-five minutes of singing.”
“Ma’am—“
“I am not finished.”
I close my mouth.
Merit steps closer, which is impressive given how small she is compared to me. Her eyes are fierce behind those glasses, and my bear actually shrinks back from her. This tiny human woman with snowflakes on her cardigan.
“Do you know what I’ve dealt with today?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “A bear cub who shifted in the middle of math class because another student looked at his crackers. A dragon hatchling who got upset during story time and singed the reading corner. A wolf pup who tried to mark his territory in the bathroom and I don’t mean the toilet.”
The janitor sighs heavily from somewhere behind me. “I just mopped that floor.”
“And now,” Merit continues, “after all of that, I have a grown bear shifter standing in my lobby, complaining that children singing Christmas carols hurt his feelings.”
“That’s not?—“
“You live alone on a mountain by choice, Mr. Tolin. You could wear earplugs. You could close your windows. You could simply ignore it like a reasonable adult. Instead, you drove all the way down here to yell at a school secretary about holiday music.”
She shakes her head slowly.
“I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know why you’re so determined to be miserable. But I will tell you this.” She leans in, lowering her voice just enough that the gathered audience has to strain to hear. “You are a grumpy bear shifter, and you desperately need to get laid.”
A bark of laughter erupts from somewhere down the hall. The janitor doesn’t even try to hide his grin.
My face is hot. My bear is quiet, stunned into submission by this woman who is half my size and twice my fury.
I open my mouth to respond.
“The door is behind you.” Merit points without looking. “I have three permission slips to file, a broken copier to call about, and a parent meeting in twenty minutes about why her dragon child keeps eating the crayons. So unless you have something else to add?”
I don’t.
I turn and walk out without a word.
The cold air hits my face as I burst through the front doors. A flatbed truck rumbles past on the main road, carrying what looks like a massive evergreen tree. The townChristmas tree, probably. Ready to be lifted in the square for everyone to gather around and celebrate.
I should kick that fucking tree over the moment they put it up.
My bear doesn’t even dignify that thought with a response. He’s still recovering from Merit.
I climb into my truck and sit there for a moment, hands on the wheel, staring at nothing.
She wasn’t wrong. About any of it. The singing was barely audible, if I’m being honest. I was already frustrated, already angry, already looking for something to blame. The children were just an easy target.
I am a grumpy bear shifter. And maybe I do need to get laid.
I pull out of the parking lot and drive toward Shadow Suds.
Derrick’s car is the only one in the lot. Good. No employees to witness whatever comes next.
The bell above the door chimes when I walk in. The front office is small and cluttered, cleaning supplies stacked on shelves, a desk covered in papers and scheduling charts. Derrick looks up from his computer, his expression shifting from surprise to wariness in the span of a heartbeat.
“Tolin.” He stands. “Wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I need help.”
