“That’s very personal. I’m not prepared to answer that,” I replied when the silence became painful. I had no way of knowing if he was a bigot, or one of us.
He tried another tack. “I think you know Ms Wragg. Is that right?”
I did? I wracked my brain again for what felt like way too long. “Oh, you mean Baxter?” I finally offered. He nodded. “I do. She’s a friend of my…housemate.”Housemate? Is that the best you can do?
He gave me a sour look that suggested he didn’t buy the housemate description for a second. “Well, perhaps you could tell Mr Marshall that Kris Bradshaw will be back after sundown some time to get him to sign off on the work? The work thatMs Wragggot authorised in a hurry. We can’t accept a stand-in signature because you’re not the home owner.”
I blinked at him. “After dark? Don’t you have a home to go to?” I was fairly certain this wasn’t usual practice for contractors.I narrowed my eyes. “If it’s dark, how do you expect him to okay your work?”Look at you, James, being all indignant on behalf of your supposedly human friend. You’re really starting to fit into the supernatural world when lies roll off your tongue like this.
Kris Bradshaw shot me a disbelieving look. He hollered to his colleagues to load the van and that he’d be with them in a minute. “Straight talk here, mate. Marshall’s a vamp. You know it, I know it.” I raised my eyebrows at him.What the fuck?He carried on, apparently uncaring that my pulse had begun to gallop. “I can smell him from here.” My eyebrows hit my hairline. “And as I know exactly who Baxter Wragg is, and you’ve just confirmed they’re friends, let’s cut the bullshit. He’ll be out some time shortly after dusk to inspect our work, which will be perfect, by the way, and I’ll be back later for his signature. I promise not to sneer at his odour of creepy undead bloodsucker as long as he keeps his snooty death needles hidden. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said faintly. He gave me a sharp upnod and spun on his heel to head down the path. “Hey,” I called after him as a thought occurred to me. “Did you say Bradshaw?”
He halted and turned back towards me, his tone low but clear. “Yeah, I did. You might know my cousin, Luc, seeing as you obviously swing that way. Up himself little turd who thinks he’s clever for waving his rainbow freak flag at a pack meeting and expecting everyone to be cool with it.” His expression told me clearly he wasnotan ally.
I suspect I blanched. There was no doubt in my mind now that this guy was a wolf. Luckily, he headed off before I could come out with any more stilted word vomit. I tottered indoors to wake Edwin. I didn’t think this could wait.
Edwin, although furious at the way I’d been treated, was less concerned than annoyed. “He was a dick to you, but he made sure he spoke to you privately, so he’s an arsehole, but thankfullynot a loose cannon,” he said. He urged me to have a cuppa and find a film we could watch together after he’d spoken to Justin Woodley, the Head Wolf on the Council. I argued he had work to do, but he shot me down with one of his looks. “I’m going to cuddle you for a few hours to get the stink of skanky shifter out of your nostrils, baby,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument, although to be fair, it was never a bad day when I could spend it wrapped up in Edwin.
“You won’t be a dick back to him and start a war?”
He huffed. “No, but only because Dalziel would probably send me to Siberia or something for a decade,” he muttered darkly. “Poor Luc. Evidently his pack is as bad as he said they were.”
When Bradshaw returned about an hour after night fell, his expression could be likened to that of a kicked puppy with a massive side portion of sulking. He mumbled something that was probably supposed to be an apology and definitely began ‘My alpha said’, but it was so obviously done grudgingly, it was all I could do not to laugh in his face as he held out the form for Edwin to sign at arm’s length. I’m not sure he breathed in for the entire two and a half minutes it took for the exchange to be over. Edwin gave him his sunniest smile and assured him the Council would be in touch if anyone else needed any work done. As Bradshaw headed off again, my ears weren’t up to the job, but Edwin told me he growled all the way back to his car.
“Shame he’s such a wanker,” he said mildly as he locked the door behind us once more. “He’d be cute if he smiled. You know, for a wolf.”
Reassured that was the end of it, I pushed the surly wolf shifter to the back of my mind and gave my full attention to the man who was preferable in every way to our bigoted builder, even if, as Edwin had noted, he had been extremely handsome.
Trace appearedone morning while Edwin and I were asleep. Pre-warned of his arrival, I’d left some sandwiches, soup, and fresh fruit in his new kitchen, along with a note that said I’d set an alarm so I could join him and help out with whatever he needed doing.
When I shuffled out into the afternoon, the recent heatwave had partially broken and the day was damp and somewhat cooler, although it wasn’t presently raining. I found Trace humping crates of plants, some in large pots, from a trailer he’d attached to his car. He was wearing cut-off denim shorts and a sleeveless top, both streaked with mud and unidentifiable stains, and distressed-looking boots, a combination that shouldabsolutely nothave been appealing to a self-confessed neat freak like me, but on him looked amazing. The times I’d seen him naked, I’d been too riddled with anxiety to appreciate how toned he was, but damn, he was fine. Every slender inch of him was stupidly, perfectly fine. Even his hair, which as usual was tangled and caught up in a vague man bun, made my breath catch in my throat.
He looked up as I approached. “Come to lend a hand? I won’t say no. I need to get this whole lot bedded in before I can think of stopping. The dry spell hasn’t helped. A brief shower earlier today’s done nothing. I spent an hour soaking the soil before I could begin bringing everything from the trailer. I thought July was a wet month?”
“It usually is,” I said, trying to concentrate on what Trace might want me to do rather than the flex of tendons under his sun-darkened skin. “What can I do to help?”
“You any good at digging?” I regarded him helplessly. “Do you want to find out?”
Finally, I unglued my tongue from the roof of my mouth to reply that I was happy to do anything he wanted.
Trace glanced at me, then urged me to find some suitable footwear. “I don’t want you smashing your toes on a spade,” he explained when I looked blank.
“I only have trainers.”
He smirked. “Such a city boy. What size are you?”
With an extra pair of thick socks to cushion my feet in a pair of borrowed boots which Trace informed me had steel toe caps, I clomped back outside feeling very butch. He showed me where he wanted holes dug and how deep. He demonstrated, twisting and slicing the spade through the soil like he was performing some kind of martial art. I didn’t think he was showing off; this was second nature to him.
I eyed his neat pile of earth, then took the spade. “I’ll be fine. You carry on with what you were doing.”
Twenty minutes later, I abandoned my T-shirt to the carriage steps and was regretting having worn jogging bottoms. This was harder work than it looked. Unwilling to wear any less, I ignored the trickles of sweat everywhere and pressed on. Trace kept up his steady to and fro from the car to the garden, until he came to stand beside me. I paused in my efforts and hoiked my eyebrows at him. “Is this all right?”
“Very. You’re a natural. I’ll start by transferring the bigger plants. They’re the ones I’m most concerned about. Poor things didn’t much like being told I was uprooting them. But needs must. Better some trauma for a week or so than being fed to the chipper when Filey bulldozes the plot.” He shuddered. I studied him as he half turned away to gently ease a small tree from a massive rubber bucket. “Come on, you, out you come. You’ll be much happier as soon as I’ve got you sorted.”
“Do you always talk to plants?”
He shot me a sunny smile. “Of course. They’re living things. They require our respect and our love like anything else.”
