Page 8 of Sly Like a Fox
The server returns with dessert menus, but we both decline in favor of coffee.The conversation continues through two cups each, covering everything from favorite books to travel experiences to theories about why certain shifter species seem naturally compatible.
By the time we leave the restaurant, it’s nearly ten o’clock, and I’ve had one of the most intellectually stimulating evenings I can remember.Walking her to her car, I’m genuinely reluctant for the night to end.
“I had a wonderful time,” she says, fishing her keys out of her purse.
“So did I.Would you like to do this again?”
“I’d like that very much.”She pauses with her hand on the car door.“Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“Are you always this cautious?”
The question startles me.“What do you mean?”
“You’re very polished and prepared, like you’ve thought through every possible response.”She’s not accusatory, just observant.“It’s not a criticism.I’m naturally cautious, too, so I recognize the signs.”
For a moment, I consider telling her I’m not really Fenton Nielsen, my entire life is a lie designed to bring down a man who destroyed my family, and I haven’t had a genuine conversation with another person in so long, I’d forgotten what it felt like.
Instead, I go with partial honesty.“I’ve learned to be vigilant.Bad experiences tend to make you guarded.”
“I understand that.”She opens her car door but doesn’t get in.“For what it’s worth, I think the watchful version of you is pretty interesting.I’d like to see what the unguarded version looks like sometime.”
With that, she slides behind the wheel, shuts the door, and waves.She drives away before I can respond, leaving me standing in the restaurant parking lot wondering what the hell just happened.
Back home, I skip my usual evening security check and go straight to the kitchen for another whiskey.Jenna Johnson is dangerous in ways I hadn’t anticipated.Not because she’s trying to manipulate me, though she might be, but because she’s perceptive enough to see through my constructed façade.
I pull up her basic information on my secure computer, verifying what I know.She’s twenty-eight years old, has no criminal record, and has bounced between several administrative jobs over the past few years.Her financial records show someone living paycheck to paycheck, which explains the considerate ordering at dinner.
Nothing looks suspicious, but also nothing explains why spending three hours with her felt more real than the last three years of my life combined.
My phone buzzes with a text from Red:How did it go?
I stare at the message for a long time before responding:Better than expected.We’re going out again.
I told you she was perfect for you.Sometimes, I amaze even myself.
With a smile and a shake of my head, I set aside the phone and return to the Anklor files.Surprisingly, my heart isn’t entirely in the work.Part of my mind keeps drifting back to Jenna.I briefly let myself wonder what it would be like to tell someone the truth about who I really am.The thought frightens me almost as much as it tempts me, and I scold myself with reminders to maintain the barriers I’ve erected to ensure Anklor finally pays for what he’s done.
Chapter 3
Jenna
Islideintomycar and let out a deep breath.Fenton Nielsen exceeded every expectation I had walking into Meridian tonight.
The drive home gives me too much time to think.Traffic moves slowly through downtown.I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me when I mentioned him being careful, like I’d seen something he thought he’d hidden better.
I spent my entire morning preparing for this date, using every trick I’d learned about maximizing my appeal on a minimal budget.I watched hours of YouTube tutorials to perfect my makeup technique, steamed Chloe’s black dress in my tiny bathroom until it hung like it was made for me, and practiced conversations in my mirror, rehearsing ways to seem both interesting and appropriately impressed by wealth without appearing desperate.
The preparation paid off.My reflection had looked better than good.The cut on my forehead was small enough that concealer covered it completely, and my hair fell in smooth waves around my shoulders.I’d practiced my most charming smile while running through conversation topics that would make me seem sophisticated.
Somewhere between the appetizer and dessert coffee, I stopped performing and started actually enjoying myself.That wasn’t supposed to happen.
My phone buzzes from the passenger seat.It’s probably Chloe, dying to hear every detail.I ignore it and focus on navigating the familiar streets back to my neighborhood, where the buildings get shorter, and the cars get older with each block.
The evening had been everything Red promised when she set us up.Fenton was intelligent, successful, and genuinely interested in what I had to say.More importantly, he didn’t seem threatened by my fox shifter nature or disappointed that I wasn’t some exotic fantasy come to life.
Yet a few moments of fleeting expressions and thoughtful pauses hinted at layers beneath his refined exterior.When I’d asked what he was really looking for in a relationship, something raw had flickered across his face before he gave me that diplomatic answer about life being complicated.
