“They’re called vegetables. You’re a paramedic. Surely they covered those in one of your classes.”
“Must have missed that day,” he said, but he took another sip.
“You can have coffee later. Right now you need to replenish.” He opened the front door and gestured Bruce outside. They both squinted at the bright sunlight.
“First rule of a firefighter. Coffee never comes later.”
“First rule of a werewolf. Food comes first. The rest is ketchup.”
Bruce snorted as they walked. Laddin didn’t have any particular destination in mind—he only wanted to find a pleasant place to sit and chat. His job as a trainer was to get Bruce in control of his werewolf nature, but no one could do that while half a breath away from exhaustion.
“Let’s start easy,” Laddin said. “When was the last time you slept?”
“In that fucking cage.”
Oh yeah. “By the way, you’re going to have to clean that up. Pissing in there was just peevish.”
“I was feeling peevish.” Then he frowned. “Whatever that means.”
“It was one of my grandmother’s words. She used it when I was being especially annoying.”
Bruce grunted as he finished off the last of the bone broth. As a reward, Laddin passed him the rest of his coffee. Bruce gratefully took a big swig, then grimaced again. “You like a little coffee in there with your sugar?”
“My charm comes naturally. I have to work for my sweetness.”
Bruce slanted him an amused looked, then finished off the coffee with big gulps. That completed the nutrition portion of the afternoon. Fortunately they’d come upon a bench that looked out over fields of recently tilled ground. The land looked rich and fertile, and off in the distance, they could see the farmer on his tractor churning under the debris from the winter.
It was a picturesque scene, and Laddin would have loved it if the temperature had been above freeze-your-balls. He wasn’t going to last long out here. Then he remembered he was supposed to be looking out for his trainee too, so he turned as Bruce dropped onto the bench. “You cold?” Bruce was wearing sweats and a T-shirt. And he’d found his shoes in the van, so at least his feet were covered.
“No,” Bruce said, surprise in his voice. “Why aren’t I cold? It’s like fifty degrees out here.”
“Werewolf metabolism.”
Bruce nodded as if that made sense. But then he looked at Laddin. “So why are you shivering?”
“Because you drank the rest of my coffee.”
“My bad.” He didn’t sound like he was apologizing, but he did look back at the house. “Want to go back inside?”
No, he really didn’t. Bruce needed the respite. “I can take it if you can.”
“Now who’s being macho?”
He was. He plopped down on the bench next to Bruce. That helped some because the big guy blocked the wind. What helped even more was the heat rolling off Bruce’s body. Wow. Bruce was a furnace.
“Except for the last two months, I’ve lived my entire life in Southern California,” he said. “Why would anyone ever live out here?”
“Because it’s so great in a place that has earthquakes, devastating fires, and smog? Not to mention the price of real estate there?”
“But we’ve got Hollywood.”
Bruce arched a brow at Laddin. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”
“It is. I’ve worked explosives for movies since I was fourteen. Some kids play with Play-Doh. I got to shape C-4.”
Bruce seemed to mull that over for a bit. “You don’t seem like an explosives expert.”
“I’m a neat freak. I need things put in their place.”
