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Abruptly, I decided I was done. I had stuff to do and I didn’t appreciate being stood up, Annabelle’s son or not. I wasn’t going to waste any more of my day on someone so self-absorbed he hadn’t even bothered to call and cancel, not when I had a waiting list of people begging to work with me.

Just before I reached the door, it flew open and a good-looking guy ran inside and collided with my chest with a thump, solidly enough that I stumbled back a step.

I looked him up and down. He was wearing a tank top, worn jeans, work boots, and a scowl that morphed into a look of relief when he saw me. “Are you Hunter?”

So this was my missing client. “That’s me. I’m guessing you’re Luke?”

“Yeah,” he said. A furrow appeared between his brows. “Were you leaving?”

I shot a pointed glance at my watch. “You’re late. I assumed you were a no-show.”

I moved past him toward the door, but as I pushed it open he called out, “Wait!”

Pausing, I glanced back at him.

“I wasn’t a no-show. Not on purpose. I got stuck at work,” he said, jutting his chin out like he was daring me to argue.

Judging by the dirt streaking his forearms and his clothes he was telling the truth, so I decided I’d give him a pass, but I didn’t want him to think I’d put up with any of his werewolf bullshit, so I said, “I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.”

“I told you, I got stuck at work,” he said, and something in his voice—embarrassment, maybe—had me paying closer attention. It was clear he was desperate.

And despite his cranky expression, he was undeniably hot. His eyes were deep brown with flecks of gold, and he had a firm jawline covered with stubble and expressive features that looked like they’d naturally default to a smile. He had the sort of muscle that came from working rather than working out, and I knew that being a werewolf, he had hidden strength. If I’d seen him at a bar, I would have taken him home in a heartbeat.

Not that it mattered, because I had one hard and fast rule: Don’t fuck werewolves, don’t fuck your clients, and especially don’t fuck werewolves who are your clients.

Besides, he was probably straight. Still, I could at least give him a chance to explain himself.

Pretty privilege was a thing and I wasn’t immune, okay? “Let’s sit down,” I said and led him back to the booth. He slid into the seat opposite me and slumped down into his chair, and yeah, I recognized that posture—this was a werewolf whose legs hadn’t played nice today. “So I’m guessing you literally got stuck somewhere. Wanna tell me about it?”

His cheeks flushed pink and he sank farther down into his seat and mumbled something I couldn’t quite hear.

“What was that?”

He glared at me, and his blush deepened. “I got stranded on a roof, okay?”

Huh. The roof part was unexpected. “How did you get up there in the first place?”

He shrugged. “I work construction, so I didn’t really have a choice unless I wanted to tell my boss I couldn’t do my job. So I closed my eyes, white-knuckled it, and hoped for the best.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s actually kind of impressive.”

His head snapped up like he hadn’t been expecting that, and he gave me a disbelieving look.

“I’m serious,” I said and meant it. “Not everyone could make themselves do that.”

He let out a sigh. “It’s just a shame it didn’t work in reverse. I sat up there for half an hour before Harvey, that’s my boss, got sick of waiting. He climbed back up and threw me over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and carried me down the ladder.”

I bit my lip to hide the smile that threatened to appear, but he must have caught the amusement in my face. “It’s okay. You can laugh. I’d be laughing too. My boss is kinda short and stocky, so I spent the whole time staring at the back of his knees and hoping he didn’t drop me on my head while he bitched about his bad back.”

A very unprofessional snort escaped me. “Werewolves have bad backs?”

Luke gave a watery smile. “He’s a bear shifter, but yeah.”

Then his smile disappeared and he said, “He also told me to take two weeks’ vacation. Said to sort my werewolf shit out before I came back or not to bother.” His teeth worried at his bottom lip before he asked, “So, can you help me? Because unemployment is firmly on my do not want list.”

That wiped the grin off my face, and any annoyance I’d felt at him for being a no-show evaporated and was replaced with a pang of sympathy. He really did need my help. Still, there were a few ground rules we needed to establish.

“It depends on two things,” I said. “Do you trust me, and are you committed to this?”