Page 11 of Fetch Me A Mate
Diana brought up the stew around noon. They ate at the desk, Rowan with his back to the room so he could see the door without thinking about it. Diana made him take a second roll and he let her get away with it.
“You always sit like that?” she asked, sipping her tea.
“Like what.”
“Back to the wall. Eyes on the door.”
“Habit,” he said.
“From what.”
“Life.” He wiped his hands. “I’ll pull the exterior clapboard after lunch. You don’t need to be out there for that.”
“I can hand you things through the window,” she offered. “Keep the pass-through civilized.”
He stared at her a moment, then nodded. “Fine. But if I say step back, you step back.”
“Understood.”
They cleared the dishes. He grabbed his bar and pry set, then paused at the threshold. She stood there with the clipboard tucked to her chest, stubborn and gentle in the same breath. He didn’t know how he’d been so careful for so long and still ended up here, with his wolf pacing every time she said his name.
“Diana,” he said.
She looked up quickly, like she always did when he spoke, as if the sound mattered. “Yes?”
“Good work,” he said. “You’re not a volunteer who wants to play at fixing things. You listen.”
“High praise,” she teased lightly, but the color in her face said it mattered. “Go open your wall, Rowan. I’ll mind the inside.”
He gave a short nod and stepped onto the porch. The afternoon had brightened, the square carrying the ordinary music of small-town life. He breathed in wet wood and tea and the lingering sweetness of scones. His hands set to the clapboard. His mind set to the work.
Behind the steady rhythm of pry and pull, the wolf kept moving, circling the same word until it left an echo in his ribs.
Mine.
5
DIANA
The sound of clapboard being pried from the exterior wall created a steady rhythm as Diana washed the lunch dishes. Through the window, she could see Rowan working methodically, his movements efficient and sure. Each board came away clean, revealing the bones of the building beneath.
She was wiping down the desk when footsteps echoed from the porch. Not Rowan's heavy work boots, but something lighter, more deliberate. Diana looked up to see a thin man in a pressed gray suit standing in the doorway, clipboard in hand and an expression that suggested he'd found something distasteful.
"Ms. Merrick?" His voice carried the clipped authority of someone used to being obeyed. "I'm Gerald Finch, aide to the council. I'm here to conduct the preliminary assessment."
Diana straightened, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Of course. Please, come in."
Finch stepped inside, his pale eyes cataloguing every detail of the lobby. He made a note on his clipboard, then another. Diana couldn't see what he was writing, but his expression didn't suggest approval.
"I trust the renovation work has begun?" he asked, not looking up from his notes.
"Yes, Rowan started this morning. He's working on the north wall structural issues now."
"Rowan Baneville." Finch's mouth pursed slightly. "Interesting choice of contractor."
Something in his tone made Diana's spine stiffen. "The Council assigned him to the project."
"Indeed. Though I would have expected someone with your... background... to request more oversight." He glanced at her meaningfully. "Given your human unfamiliarity with shifter customs."
