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Alice had a keen sense for ‘interrupting something awkward.’ Teaching middle school students was basically made of those moments.
The door to Scarlet’s office was open, and Alice was drifting in before she realized that the warm, welcoming sensation she was feeling was only from her bear, recognizing Graham’s broad back before Alice even registered it.
“I won’t say anything,” he was growling, in that voice that made her shiver despite her best efforts.
“Can I help you?” Scarlet asked sharply.
For a moment, Alice completely forgot why she had come, her senses swamped with Graham. Down girl, she told her bear firmly. She smiled resolutely, ignoring the tension in the room and pretending her own entrance hadn’t been its own special form of awkward. “Yes, actually!” she said cheerfully. “I’m putting together the scrapbook for Mary’s wedding, and I had some questions I was hoping you could help me answer...”
Graham glanced at her once and looked away so quickly that Alice wondered if eyeballs could get whiplash.
Then he turned and walked out without a single word more, leaving her feeling irrationally bereft.
I don’t need him, she reminded herself.
Her bear had strong alternate opinions.
She looked back to find Scarlet giving her an unreadable look, and laughed inelegantly. “He doesn’t say much, does he?”
Scarlet looked at her without saying anything for a long moment, then smiled rather stiffly and moved the pile of paperwork before her on the desk off to the side. “Was there something specific you were looking for?” she asked politely, gesturing to the chair opposite. “For your... scrapbook?”
Alice wondered if there was sympathy in Scarlet’s eyes, and decided she would take a conversation out of pity if it would help her find more clues. She sat down in the chair and made a show of opening the notebook that she had taped a few photos of Mary and Neal to.
“I was hoping you had some photographs of their visit here, or maybe some stories.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Scarlet said simply.
Alice didn’t really have a plan, other than to try to get Scarlet to open up and start chatting.
“Well, I was thinking about doing a bit about the resort itself, since that’s where they met. Can you tell me a little about how it got started and when you took it over?”
Scarlet regarded her for a moment, and then said, with suspicious neutrality, “The resort was designed and nearly entirely built by Aaric Lyons in the early 80s. Upon his disappearance, his son sold this half of the island to Beehag. Four years ago, I secured a lease to restart the resort and got it into operation.”
“That must have been a lot of work,” Alice said encouragingly.
“Yes,” Scarlet answered briefly. Then, reluctantly, “I have an excellent staff.”
“Graham and Travis were among the first people working here, right?” Dammit, how had the topic gotten around to Graham? Alice stumbled on. “It was almost forty years—the jungle must have really grown everything over in that time. I bet it took a long time to cut back the overgrowth.”
Scarlet was silent.
“So, um, okay...” Alice looked down at her pathetic scrapbook, trying not to think about Graham with a machete, beating back jungle vines. Shirtless.
“You’re not really here looking for information about Mary and Neal,” Scarlet observed.
Alice blushed. She was terrible at this spy stuff. She thought about her brother, and her parents, and had to make an effort to draw herself together. Scarlet made her feel like she’d been called to the principal’s office. Did she know about the man with the business card who had sent Alice? N. Padrikanth Moore, the pretentious name had been, no business name, or logo, or any hints as to what kind of person he was. But good people didn’t generally make offers of fifty million dollars to snoop shifter types out.
“I’m sorry to pry,” she said hastily. “I really was hoping to put something nice together for them, but I’ve kind of run into a dead end.” She gave the most natural smile she could manage. “I didn’t mean to be a bother.”
Scarlet’s expression became... complicated. It wasn’t disgust, and it wasn’t anger, but it also wasn’t quite pity, or anything else Alice could put her finger on.
“Graham,” Scarlet said quietly.
Alice stared at her in consternation. If there was anything worse than Scarlet knowing that Alice was a spy, it was Scarlet thinking Alice was pining over the gorgeous gardener who had upended her life by turning out to be her mate.
Even if she sort of was.
Scarlet’s gaze was unsettling, even when she was clearly trying to be gentle. “Graham is a good man,” she said evenly. “He’s quiet, but clever, and he works very hard. He is kind. He would treat you well.”
This was a hundred times worse.
Alice tried to laugh and failed spectacularly. “I’m sure he is. Er, I’m sure he would. Ah, thank you,” she squeaked. “I don’t think it’s going anywhere, though. I’ve got... a job, you know. He... has a job. Jobs we love. Jobs we need. Good jobs.” She clamped her mouth shut, knowing she had said job entirely too many times in a row... and now she could only think about blowjobs, because her traitor bear was feeding her memories of Graham’s naked splendor and she was helpless in the rush of desires that had come with talking about him at all.
If Scarlet had a clue what was going on in her head, Alice didn’t want to know. “I’m really sorry I bothered you,” she said desperately, rising to her feet. She knew which battles to concede. “Thank you for your time. Lovely resort. Great food.”
And she fled out into the courtyard, shutting the door behind her out of habit.
She didn’t get far, only as far as the bench in the courtyard, where she collapsed and tried to get her tangled mind in order.
She shoved Graham—and his glorious cock—from her mind with effort. She had to make some progress with Scarlet’s shift form. She had to, or she could kiss her only hope for saving her family goodbye.
Alice drew in deep breaths, searching for her usual calm and carefree attitude. She wasn’t going to get much out of Scarlet directly, she was sure. But she could use her senses.
With each breath came smells.
Usually, it was just a wild symphony of scents, all tangled together in an overwhelming disharmony that no one else seemed to notice. But if she concentrated, she could pick them out... a wolf shifter had been here... maybe Laura? No, a different wolf. Another bear, as well, perhaps Tex, but just as likely a guest.
Most shifters came through the courtyard in human shape; she could smell soap and sweat and alcohol, leather and plastic from luggage, the tang of grease from their wheels, tantalizing whiffs of the breakfast Chef must be finishing up at the restaurant, the undertone of saltwater on the breeze.
She could smell the little cream-colored cat with Siamese points in orange, and its deodorizing cat litter. She could smell the paper of the mail on Scarlet’s desk, the distinct musty old book smell; all of Scarlet’s books appeared to be older used books.
And muffling it all were the flowers and vines and potted plants throughout the courtyard. Over the vivid, pushy jungle smells, Alice couldn’t pick out any animal scent that was strong enough to be someone who lived here. The strongest of the animal scents was actually lion—Graham’s lion, specifically—musky and earthy and irresistible. Alice gritted her teeth and pushed to her feet.
She was getting nowhere, fast, and she could feel her chance slipping through her fingers. She realized she’d been crying as the tears started to dry on her cheeks, and scrubbed them away defiantly.
She had to find out what Scarlet was.
There was no other choice.