My reindeer responded to the smells but unlike me, he zeroed in on Reed’s scent. He clamored against my insides, wanting to get out but I pushed him back.There were only two reasons why he’d take his fur without my permission and we were getting dangerously close to that time of year. One was a certain song and another was if I was stressed. There was a third possibility but my beast and I had never encountered it.
I stood awkwardly but there was no space to sit that wasn’t filled with stuff. My pulse raced as Reed moved closer and removed papers from a chair.
Focus, Roscoe. I was here on behalf of the pack, not to list the undertones of the human’s scent and how it reminded me of… well, Christmas. Though that wasn’t surprising considering his business.
Reed busied himself with putting on the kettle and he bustled around the small kitchenette wedged into one corner. He glanced over his shoulder and our eyes met. Damn! Now I understood why my beast was so insistent on getting out of me. Had I been hit by lightning? I ducked my head and peered through the dirty windows. Nope the sky was clear.
We had a problem and he was standing in front of me.
“As I said, my coffee making skills are atrocious.”
“Don’t worry.” I choked out the words rather than spoke them as heat crept over my chest to the base of my throat. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Reed hummed a Christmas carol as the coffee brewed and I tensed, ready for a quick getaway. No human, or even most shifters, would understand how certain carols affected me. But he hummed the one about bells and sleighs and I almost bopped along with him, but instead, I concentrated on the smell of the coffee that attempted to override Reed’s scent.
Another quick look out the window and I was struck by the trees. Were they swaying in time to that jingly bell carol he was humming? I was a reindeer shifter and part of a paranormal existence, but the trees and Reed’s connection to each other and the land was something I couldn’t explain.
My kind had a relationship with the land beneathour feet. It sustained us, but humans were oblivious to it. Perhaps I’d stumbled on a human who had developed a bond with the soil.
Reed placed two mugs on the desk and pushed one toward me. His had the words, “World's Best Aunt” emblazoned on it, while stamped on mine was an image of a reindeer wearing a Santa hat.
He knows about us though that hat is lopsided.
Shush. He doesn’t. It’s a human thing.
Reed sat opposite me, wrapping his hands around his warm mug. “You said your community group is interested in leasing part of the property. What kind of arrangement were you thinking?”
This was the moment I'd been preparing for. I opened my briefcase and pulled out more documents that included a lease agreement, property survey and building permits. They’d been completed and only required my signature and Reed’s. From a distance it was a ballsy move but we were desperate.
“My clients need approximately five acres for a small residential community.” I slid the papers across the desk. “The section beyond the hill, past your Noble Fir grove, would be ideal as it has some old cabins on it. It's far enough from your Christmas tree operation to avoid them disturbing you but it’s close enough to share infrastructure.”
Reed's eyebrows rose as he flipped through the documents. “These are already filled out.”
“They’re standard lease terms.” I had to reassure him we weren’t trying to screw him over, and I pulled out a detailed site plan. “We'd have to repair the cabins, build more and a barn. It’s nothing that would interfere with your farm operation. And the lease payments would take care of your financial difficulties.”
That had to be a huge plus, though if I’d had the time over again, I wouldn’t have been so blunt and I should have put more emotion in my voice. But I expected him to grab a pen and squiggle his signature on every available page.
He narrowed his eyes. “My financial difficulties?”
Oops. It sounded like an accusation, as though I’d been rifling around in his accounts, but it was no secret the farm was in trouble.
“You want to build more cabins,” he said. “How many?”
“Initially, we’d build three but that would be in the spring. We’d repair the current ones and also, as I said, we’d erect a barn.” As I spoke, I wanted to sink into the ground because I’d approached this the wrong way and Reed probably wanted to toss me out on my ear for being insolent.
His fingers curled around the mug and his scent was distracting and I chugged a mouthful ofcoffee. Ewww. That was gross and there were coffee grounds in my mouth. I swallowed with difficulty, straining the grounds through my teeth.
“The terms are generous, Mr. Keller.” The words sounded right in my head but not as I said them out loud. I was digging myself in deeper. I’d negotiated deals hundreds of times so why was I so bad at this one?
Reed set the papers down and met me with a glare while his mouth was set in a hard line.
“My clients need to find somewhere before Christmas.” Again my reasoning was sound but there was a problem with my delivery.
“You assumed I'd sign these papers today?” Reed’s voice shot up at the end like he’d stabbed the question mark with a sharpie and he was spitting out words as if from an automatic weapon.
I had to salvage what was left of the negotiation. “You keep your Christmas tree farm and maintain full control and the best part is you get a regular income from the lease.” My little speech should have ended with an exclamation mark but I toned it down a tad.
“Let me get this straight.” He didn’t sound as though he was going to put pen to paper and end my worries and the pack’s. “A community of people I've never met want to live in the existing cabins and build new ones on my land. Plus a barn.”
