Page 14 of Howling Mad
I shrug.“Just reorganizing some files.My life is pure glamour, as you can see.”
A tired smile flickers across his face.“Better than my evening.Mind if we eat somewhere less formal than that interview room?”
I gesture to a small break area in the back, where a simple round table sits with mismatched chairs.“Let’s do it.The overhead light is a bit harsh, but it’s more comfortable.”
He nods, following me.I flip on a softer lamp near the table, and we sit, sliding aside a few unfiled folders.He begins unpacking containers of fried rice, General Tso’s chicken, dumplings, and fortune cookies.The scent hits my nose, and my stomach growls audibly, reminding me I never had dinner.I shoot him a sheepish look, and he laughs quietly.
We dig in, the awkward silence persisting until I summon the courage to ask, “So, how was the date with Diana?”
He grimaces, scooping rice onto a paper plate.“Bowling was fine.The problem was everything else.She basically interrogated me about my firm’s accounts, wanting to glean tips for her clients.She wasn’t subtle.”
I slump.“Ugh, I was worried that might happen.Did you end up telling her anything?”
He stabs a piece of chicken with a plastic fork.“Not a chance.I can handle pushy questions.The real kicker came when her fancy pen fell into my drink.It turned out it was a recording device.It shorted out and caused a mini electrical fire in the mug.The staff freaked and used a fire extinguisher.Everyone was coughing on foam while she scrambled to salvage her spy pen.”
My jaw drops, half in horror, half in comedic disbelief.“Oh, that’s…definitely not covered in the ‘safe date tips’ manual.I am so sorry.”
He waves off my apology.“Not your fault.She’s cunning but apparently not so cunning that she can keep her spy gadgets safe from beer.”A faint chuckle rumbles in his chest.“At least I was spared another humiliating scenario of sneezing or something.”
A surge of sympathy splices with relief in me.“That’s good.Seriously, though, you’re sure you’re okay?Another date gone bust… I know it’s frustrating.”
He exhales.“It is, but I’m more amused than upset this time.She was so blatant.”He sets down his fork, meeting my gaze.“I keep saying I might stop trying, but something makes me come back.Maybe a foolish hope that the next one won’t blow up.”
My heart twists.“That’s not foolish at all.Everyone deserves a real connection.”
He nods, chewing on a dumpling thoughtfully.“I guess that’s why I keep letting you set me up.I trust you won’t throw me at some unhinged maniac.”
A wry laugh escapes me.“That is my job description.‘No maniacs, guaranteed.’Sorry I failed you this time.”
“Don’t apologize.”His tone is gentle.“This is the best the city has to offer, apparently—sneezing fiascos and corporate espionage.”
I cringe, remembering how he’s endured so many humiliations.“I promise we’ll do better next time.If you’re up for a next time, that is.”
He shrugs, and for a moment, his eyes reflect a quiet vulnerability that tugs at me.“We’ll see.Right now, I’m content eating dumplings in a quiet office with someone who isn’t trying to exploit me.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, and I force a casual smile while picking up a plastic fork.“Sounds like a wise plan.”
We eat in companionable silence for a bit, though I notice how easy it is to be around him, with no forced small talk or posturing.He asks about my day, and I tell him about the ferret siblings fighting over a hawk.He laughs, an actual hearty laugh that softens his usually guarded features.
He leans back in his chair.“So, does it ever drive you nuts?Listening to all these heartbreak stories?”
I consider it, swirling a piece of chicken in sauce.“Sometimes, but it’s also nice to see how different shifters are.They each have a story and a reason they didn’t fit into the typical mold.We’re all outcasts in some way.”
His gaze flickers to me in curiosity.“You, too?”
I swallow, setting down my fork.“Especially me.My parents tried to set me up with every alpha in a hundred-mile radius.My mother still spams me with new ‘perfect matches’ every other week.I only half-joke that I ran away to the city so I could breathe.”
He nods slowly, an understanding in his expression that feels almost intimate.“I get it.My father’s beta and wanted me to follow in his footsteps.Instead, I said no and dove into finance.He acts like I’m a traitor to the entire pack.”
A hush descends, thick with a shared sense of being scorned for not fitting some archaic standard.My wolf stirs in sympathy, and we exchange a glance that’s a beat too long to be purely professional.I blink, snapping the tension by grabbing the fortune cookies from the bag.“Time for dessert.Maybe we’ll get fortunes that say something positive for once.”
He smirks.“Better than a day like this, right?”
We each crack open a cookie.I read mine aloud.“‘Embrace the unexpected.Your hidden talent will open new doors.’”I snort, unimpressed.“Sure, I’ll keep an eye out for that.”
He glances at his slip of paper, his eyebrows rising.He nearly chokes, clearing his throat.“Mine says, ‘Your perfect match is closer than you think.’A bit on the nose.”
My stomach does a nervous flip.“Fortune cookies can be creepy like that.”I hope he doesn’t see my cheeks heating.I shrug, trying to sound casual.“Probably means your next date is right around the corner, if you’re not giving up.”
