Blood of the Maple

Amara had watched Mina’s ritual with wide, glowing eyes, and he’d understood instantly how much being included had meant to her. The knowledge that the local dryads not only accepted her presence but wanted it had lifted his dryad’s spirit. Last he heard, the town’s female dryads had organized some sort of shopping trip. He’d told her to come home with plenty of lacy underthings or not at all.

He rubbed the top of his head where she’d smacked him with a cooking spoon. Sometimes his wife had no sense of humor.

“Don’t worry. We’re keeping our eyes open for her. Mina would love to have a chat with her.” Greer whispered to an orchid, and the flower bloomed for him.

“I hope she doesn’t come back here. What happened hurt Mollie quite a bit. She loves this place. Did you see the scorch marks?”

Greer’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look up from the plant he was repotting.

Interesting. “She made those marks trying to save this place. Thing is, she was almost dead on her feet by the time I got here.” Greer’s cheek twitched, and Parker wondered if he’d found the source of Mollie’s fascination with plants. He decided to test the waters, so to speak. Getting Mollie loosened up would make his life a hell of a lot easier. Her attitude toward him had softened quite a bit since the attack, asking after Amara and allowing him the time for his nightly hunts without argument. He’d watched the loving way she handled the plants; this was more than a hobby for her. It was her passion. The woman who’d worked her ass off for this place was someone he’d come to respect. She was someone he was coming to like as well. He hadn’t quite managed to get her to the point where she would actually laugh at one of his jokes, but he’d come close.

“Mollie mentioned a joint program with the learning center where kids who visit one can get half-price tickets to the other. What do you think?”

“It’s fine.”

Huh. This was the quietest he’d ever heard Greer.

“She might even start doing weekend work at the center.”

Greer grunted and set the pot back on the ground.

“I think she’d do a wonderful job teaching the children about the plants in their natural habitat. What do you think?”

“Whatever. Hand me the potting soil.”

Parker gave him the twenty-five-pound bag, and Greer set it on the stainless-steel worktable. “Speaking of the forest, what if Terri’s in the heart of it, hiding like some kind of poisonous vine, waiting for a chance to strike again?”

Greer crumpled the edge of the table like paper with his bare hands. “We kill her.”

“Fascinating.” Parker shook his head. “Why is Amara considered the guardian of your species if you can all do that?”

Greer looked down at his hands. Shock raced across his features before it was quickly wiped away. “No reason.” He pointed toward the office door. “Fergie in yet?”

Fergie? Parker wouldn’t dream of calling Mollie Fergie. He’d barely wrapped his brain around calling her Mollie, and that only after she’d insisted. “Not that I’m aware of. She spent most of today cleaning up and left a note that she planned on returning first thing in the morning.” And considering Fergie was usually there at the crack of dawn and left late at night, she had to be exhausted.

“She needs to get more rest. If her emotions aren’t under control, she runs the risk of setting fires she doesn’t want to.”

“Really? I thought elementals were taught to control their powers from the cradle.”

Greer hefted another massive pot onto the table, careful of the crumpled edge, and whispered to it, packing potting soil around the exposed roots. “Fergie’s a halfer.”

“Um. What?”

Greer chuckled. “Halfer. Her father was human, her mother a fire elemental. With halfers, you never know if you’re going to get a supernatural, a human with psychic powers or an ordinary human. Fergie got her mom’s abilities, but they didn’t hit until puberty. No one’s quite sure why, except maybe Selena, and she’s not talking.”

Puberty, eh? “When did you meet Mollie?”

Greer put the pot back on the ground and hefted the next one. “When we were young, maybe eleven or twelve. Why?”

“And she suddenly had powers. Think about it.”

Greer shook his head, the orange highlights looking like…well, flickering fire. “No way. Fergie’s gay.”

Parker burst out laughing. “Gay?”

“Yes, gay. What’s so funny about that?”

Parker laughed harder. “Parker. That’s not funny. We accept everyone here—gay, straight, werewolf, cursed vampire. You name it. Making fun of someone because—”

Parker held up his hand, cutting Greer off. “She’s not gay.”

“Yes, she is. Several people have told me so.”

“And you believed them?” Parker wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Trust me, she’s not gay.”

Greer, a stubborn expression on his face, crossed his arms over his chest. “How would you know?”

“Because she checked out my ass.”

Greer chuckled. “Yeah, right. That flat old thing?”

“Jealous much?” He smirked at Greer’s snarl. “I know when a woman checks out my ass, and her eyes were all over it.” Of course, that was weeks ago, but Greer didn’t need to know that. And once Mollie realized he was her new employee, all checking out of body parts had stopped.

“Which one? The one behind you or the one on your shoulders?”

“Ha-ha. Funny man. You mark my words. Mollie is very much into men.”

Greer relaxed with a grin. “Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Put your money where your mouth is, pretty boy. Prove Fergie isn’t gay.”

“First off, if I lay a hand on her, Amara will go bonkers, and we all know how that would turn out. Second— Hell. I will prove it.” And he knew just the man to help him too. “Watch this.” Parker pulled out his cell phone and punched a number he now had on speed dial.

“Hello?”

Carter was strangely alert. Perhaps he was on the night shift. “Evening, Carter.”

Greer flinched.

“Hey, Parker.” Carter seemed remarkably happy to hear from him. Perhaps he was ready to pay his debt. “What can I do for you?”

Parker put it on speakerphone. “Remember that debt you owe me?”

Carter didn’t hesitate. “Mine or the pack’s?”

“Yours. I need a favor.”

“Name it.”

“I need to prove to someone that Mollie Ferguson is not a lesbian. Think you can help me?”

“Mollie? A lesbian?” Carter laughed so hard Parker had to turn down the volume. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope. I’m at The Greenhouse with Greer Berkeley, and he’s insisting Mollie is gay.”

Carter snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s why she paid twice to come to my kissing booth at the county fair last summer. Girl has some serious lips on her.” Carter’s voice had gone dreamy yet hungry, and Parker knew he’d relished the chance to kiss the woman.

“So you’ll do it? Prove Mollie isn’t gay?”

“Man, twist my arm. Hell, I need to owe you debts more often.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You can take that as a hell yes.”

Greer’s jaw went slack. “Oh hell no.”

The table Greer was working at snapped in half. Parker looked over at the startled, angry dryad. “Hmm.”