Page 4 of Triumph of the Wolf
“Go on a date to a nice restaurant?” I asked.
“I… was thinking we could skip to getting horizontal, perhaps in a romantic setting, but I do enjoy eating and am always amenable to doing so with you.”
“Would the horizontal romantic setting be the twin bed in the back of your equipment-stuffed van?”
“It could be.”
“In the crowded presence of SCUBA gear, metal detectors, and enough magnets to short-circuit your genetic material?”
“Such things definitely putmein the mood. And I’ve told you before that magnets aren’t a threat to our virility.” Duncan winked at me, but his head swung toward the woods. He must have caught the aura of Lykos. “Keep that in mind. I’ll be back soon.”
“Keep your… virility in mind?” I asked after him.
“Always.”
I snorted and finished the last of my clean-up, then walked toward the parking lot so I could get my truck and haul the debris-filled cart to the composting facility for disposal. On the way, I ran into Bolin heading from his SUV to the leasing office with two coffee drinks in his hands and his leather man purse draped over his shoulder. He’d had the strap repaired since our last parking-lot battle against hoodlums.
“Is Jasmine coming to visit you?” I nodded toward the whipped-cream-covered and caramel-drizzled mochas, thinking one might be for her, though she hadn’t mentioned coming by.
“I wish.” Bolin glanced at me. “Though I wouldn’t invite a friend or even girlfriend to come visit me during work hours, of course.”
“Of course. That wouldn’t be professional.” I avoided looking in the direction that Duncan had gone.
“These are both for me. I was up late practicing…” Bolin glanced around, spotted a tenant with a laptop bag cutting across the lawn, and lowered his voice. “My art.”
As if those vague words had needed to be delivered in a whisper.
“You didn’t get your usual pair of giant caffeine bombs first thing this morning?”
“I did, but I already drank them, and the caffeine has worn off. Like the resurgence of animals and vegetation surrounding Chernobyl after the meltdown, my natural state has returned.”
“Interesting metaphor. Is that the kind of poetic imagery that Gen Z women dig?”
“You mentioned bombs. Naturally, I thought of exploding power plants.”
“Naturally.”
“The grounds look good.” Bolin sipped from the left-hand beverage. “The real estate photographer will be pleased.”
“I do ache to satisfy him.”
Bolin choked on his beverage.
I waited to see if he needed the Heimlich Maneuver—he did not—then pointed toward my truck.
Before I could walk away, Bolin raised a finger. “My father wanted me to warn you that some new prospective buyers will be coming for a tour this evening.”
“Great.” I bared my teeth to let him know that it wasn’tgreat.
Bolin didn’t skitter backward or fumble his drinks. He’d either grown accustomed to me—and my grumpy streak—or his burgeoning druid powers gave him confidence that he could handle himself if my wild instincts overtook me. And maybe hecould. Not only did he have a collection of potions that he always carried in his bag, but I’d witnessed him calling up vines from the ether—technically, the parking-lot pavement—to halt a two-ton van. He was halfway on his journey to turning into someone badass, the gilded-leather man purse notwithstanding.
“Do you need any more invitations to networking events?” Bolin offered. “Even thoughIlook forward to moving on frommy internment in Shoreline, I know you like this area and might want to continue to live in your unit here.”
“Internment? It’s not a concentration camp. It’s a beautiful apartment complex that hasn’t been pestered by crime in almost a week.”
“It’s not horrible, but…”
“I know, I know. You want to manage your parents’ complexes in more exotic areas. Even though Jasmine lives happily here.” I waved toward the east.
