ONE
DAWSON
He is so annoying.
The studio lights were too bright, the air conditioning was set wrong again, and Parker Fleetwood was doing that thing where he smiled like the sun itself had taken human form.
"And now let's check in with our very own Dawson Adair for the weather."
Parker's voice had that particular quality that made my teeth ache. He was relentlessly cheerful, as if he'd never experienced a bad day in his entire life.
"Dawson, I hear we might finally get some relief from this heat wave?"
I stepped into frame, positioning myself in front of the green screen that would display my carefully prepared weather graphics. "The high-pressure system currently dominating the region will begin to break down by Thursday, allowing cooler air from the north to?—"
"You heard it here first, folks! Our expert meteorologist is telling us cooler temps are on the way." Parker's megawatt smile aimed at Camera Two. "Dawson's been tracking this system all week. So what does that mean for our weekend plans?"
I gritted my teeth. That wasn't quite what I'd said, but at least he'd acknowledged my work. "Beautiful temperatures in the low seventies by Saturday, though there's a forty percent chance of precipitation. Residents should monitor updates."
"Perfect weather with just a small chance of showers!" Parker's enthusiasm somehow made even rain sound appealing. "Thanks for keeping us informed, Dawson. We're lucky to have the best meteorologist in the metro area."
And just like that, I was dismissed, though with a compliment that shouldn't have pleased me as much as it did. Parker had already pivoted to face Camera One, launching into some story about a local farmer's market while I stood there with three more minutes of detailed forecast information that viewers actually needed to hear.
My wolf was irritated by the dismissal but he was also pestering me by knocking on my temple and whispering. I took no notice as I concentrated on Parker's scent that had been increasingly difficult to ignore over the past few weeks. But I couldn't help but focus on his hands as he gestured to the audience at home. His graceful movements reminded me of a gazelle which was silly. He was as human as a human could be.
I retreated to my desk in the back corner of the studio, as far from the main set as possible. Through the glass partition, I could see Parker chatting with the crew during the commercial break, making them all laugh with a story I couldn't hear. His dark hair was slightly mussed from where he'd run his fingers through it between segments, and stubble covered his jaw despite the makeup they'd put on him earlier. He had this way of tilting his head when he listened that made him look interested in whatever boring story someone was telling him.
Even from here, watching him move with that easy grace, I sensed my wolf paying attention in a way that spelled nothing but trouble.
"Rough segment?" Zara, one of the camera operators, stopped by my desk with a sympathetic smile.
"He cut me off." I pulled up the extended forecast on my monitor, seeking the comfort of data and models.
"But he made sure everyone knew you were the expert." She leaned against my desk. "The ratings have been up fifteen percent since he started hosting. People love how he translates the technical stuff."
I grunted, which was my standard response when I didn't want to admit someone had a valid point. Parker Fleetwood had been the morning show host for eight months, and in that time, "Good Morning Metro" had gone from struggling to the top-rated morning show in our market.
It didn't mean I had to like working with him.
"There's a major storm system developing in the Gulf." I pointed at my screen. "Could be significant by mid-week."
Zara leaned in to look at the satellite imagery. "How significant?"
"Too early to say definitively, but the conditions are favorable for rapid intensification." I pulled up three different forecast tracks, all showing concerning trajectories. "We could be looking at our first major hurricane of the season."
"Should I tell Parker?"
"Not yet. I need to run more models first."
What I didn't say was that I needed to be certain before I gave Parker any information, because he'd inevitably spin it into some folksy, oversimplified version that would make me want to shift and run into the nearest forest.
The morning show wrapped at nine, and I finally had the studio to myself. Most of the crew cleared out quickly. Early call times meant early departures. Parker usually lingered, chatting with anyone who'd listen, but today I heard him in the hallway outside the weather center, his laugh carrying through the walls.
My wolf's ears perked up at the sound, which was becoming a disturbing pattern.
I was thirty-six years old and had learned long ago to keep my distance from humans, especially attractive ones who worked in close proximity. My last relationship had ended badly when I'd tried to explain why I sometimes needed to disappear for a few days during the full moon. He'd assumed I was cheating, and I'd let him believe it rather than risk the truth.
Since then, I'd kept things simple: work, my small house on the edge of town, and monthly runs with the handful of other shifters in the area. We weren't a formal pack. Most of us were lone wolves who'd drifted to the city for various reasons, but we maintained loose connections.
