He’s wearing a short-sleeve collared shirt under a brown velvety vest. He looks like a cross between a lumberjack and a yodeler.
He sees me, and his lips curl. I am a wolf, and his smile seems wolfish.
I don’t like him.
I don’t have to. I just have to sell him mushrooms.
He kind of canters over, hands in pockets.
“Una?”
I nod.
“I can’t believe you got me all the way out here.” He gestures around him. “I’ve never even heard of this town before.”
I don’t know what to say. Humans are into small talk between males and females, but I’m not used to it. It was different with the glassblower. He talked incessantly, and he didn’t need you to reply.
I nod again and try to look friendly.
“Shy, eh?” He waggles his eyebrows. There’s something wrong with them. They’re tweezed. And arched to make him look perpetually surprised.
“I have the mushrooms.”
He laughs. “Whoa, whoa. You say it like that, people are gonna think things.”
I glance around. No one is close enough to hear us.
“Let’s go over here. I can see what you got.” He leads the way to a wrought iron bench at the edge of the lawn. I set my backpack down and carefully unfold the quilt.
Morels are ugly. They look like dried brains. Still, I hold the jar up proudly. They’re all whole. No pieces.
For a second, ShroomForager3000’s face lights up, but then his lips turn down, his thin, dark brows spearing together. “Oh, man. These aren’t as big as they looked in the pics.”
Yes, they are. These are the exact same mushrooms.
“Maybe it’s seeing them in a jar.” For the pictures, I laid them out on a table.
He shakes his head. “No, these are definitely, uh, you know, on the small side.” He scrubs his neck. “Man, this sucks. My guys, they’re looking for a certain size you know? They want to stuff them with crab. Turkey mousse. That kind of thing.”
“You can stuff these.”
He sighs. “They’re just not what I’m looking for, you know?”
My heart plummets. I want this money so bad I can taste it. I’ve been spending it in my head for months. Plenty of buyers are interested, but they want to pay online and have the product shipped, and whatever app you use, you need a checking account, and to open a checking account, you need identification. Shifter females don’t have ID.
Kennedy and I have looked at it from every angle. We can’t figure out a work-around. And this is the only guy who’s been willing to drive down and pay cash.
I hug the jar to my chest.
ShroomForager3000 lays his hand on my shoulder. “But, hey. I mean, I drove all the way down here, right. I could take ‘em off your hands. For maybe—” He licks his unnaturally red lips. “A hundred bucks?”
Oh.
He’s playing me.
I tense.
He squeezes, like a massage. My wolf growls. His hand drops, and he looks at me, really looks, much closer than before.
“Holy shit. You’re one of them, aren’t you? A shifter. I wondered—since this town is kind of known for being close to a pack. Wow. You’re a wolf, right?”
“Does that matter?”
His eyes flicker, and he licks his lips again. “Not at all. I vote pro wolf, all the way. You guys deserve citizenship. Most definitely.”
I’m not up on the pro wolf stuff. That’s more Moon Lake’s bag. Still, I guess pro wolf is better than anti.
“You know, I have an idea. If you really need the money. I mean, I really can’t do more than a hundred on the morels, but I did bring the whole three hundred.”
He pauses, his gaze flickering around the market, like he’s looking for something. My wolf’s hackles are raised. She really doesn’t like this guy. Neither do I.
“My van is just over there.” He jerks his thumb to a white work van with rust along the bottom. “We could, uh, come to an arrangement, if you want the rest?”
“I’m not having sex with you for money.” I hug my mushrooms tighter.
“No, no. You misunderstand.” He lowers his voice and leans in. “Just pictures. A little video. You, uh, become the wolf. Shift back. Pose. I’ll crop out your head. It’ll take five minutes. Ten tops.”
My stomach heaves, and a sour taste fills my mouth. “I’m not doing that. Give me the three hundred.”
“Come on. It’s just—”
My wolf growls, loud, a perfectly clear threat. He holds one hand up and digs the other into his pocket.