Unconventionally Wolf by Julie Steimle (read 50 shades of grey TXT) 📕

Rick stared. He shook his head. “You don’t understand economics. They are paid through their profits. And though most of them have a wage, they are the ones that suffer when you expect to freeload.”

That gal with the brown hair snickered. So did one other, while the rest stared at them, more aligned with Xander’s point of view.

“Look,” Rick held out his unsigned form to him. “I won’t sign this until you stipulate exactly who is on your film crew and add that you will not invite outsiders to any of your cabins or camping spaces. This is for research only. Not for play.”

Stunned, Xander took the paper.

“Told you,” the brown-haired co-ed said in a singsong voice.

“You must be next,” Rick said, gazing on her. He held out his hand.

She put her proposal and permission form into it, almost like a slap. Up close, she had a good smell. It wasn't perfume or anything. It was just nice.  He wasn’t sure why, but he got a sense of déjà vu.

“This is for a two-year survey of different wildlife reserves connected with human recreational facilities. I want to see how much human activity affects the wildlife connected to the animal reserves various people have. I will be surveying other ones not connected to the Deacon family, but you have the largest number,” she said.

Rick lifted his eyes to her and stared. “I’m sorry. What was your name?”

She nodded, smiling wide with healthy, straight teeth. “Audry Bruchenhaus. This is for my master’s thesis.”

Rick stared at her more. “Your masters?”

She nodded again.

“I’d hate to be rude, but how old are you?” He stared at her, taking in her brown eyes and athletic frame. Admittedly, his heart thumped a little.

“Nineteen.” She stiffened. “I’m finishing my composite major of Bachelors in Biology and Zoology this year.”

“Genius?” he murmured. “Skipped several grades?”

Her smile grew a degree smug. “I was homeschooled.”

He nodded almost dizzily. Not that he knew many homeschooled children. It was just that he knew they could go at their own pace—including as fast as they wanted. He turned his eyes to the papers again. “Ok…”

Scanning over the permission form, he read every word. It was neatly worded. Concise and specific. She mostly wanted access to the Deacon’s ski resorts connected to some wildland he and his father used for hunting in the off seasons. They were not set up for camping, so they were usually void of people then. The best part of her form is that she put in the details that Xander should have.

“Ok.” And Rick signed it.

Audry grinned, blushing with pleasure.

“Wait a minute! You signed hers but not mine?” Xander looked like he wanted to knock the booth down.

Rick held up the permission form. “Of course I did. She requested the use of the smallest open space available for overnights, even among staff quarters. That is dedication to working. I have no reservations about this project.” He handed the document back to Audry. As she took the paper, he got another feeling of déjà vu. He held onto the paper. “Do I know you? I get the feeling we’ve met before.”

Carl and the others turned and stared at her.

Audry smiled. Her eyes shone. “So you do remember.”

Rick shook his head, a little dazed, as she was pretty. “Only that you are familiar.”

She laughed, almost mocking. And he didn’t feel like he deserved it. It wasn’t like he had a perfect memory of everyone he had run across.

“I’ll give you a hint,” she said.

“Don’t tease,” Rick moaned, rising from his seat.

The other grad students around them who were waiting their turns broke into cries of protest. He looked like he was about to leave. They chorused for him to stay and for her to quit messing around.

“Eiffel Tower,” she said, still smug.  

Rick stared at her, letting go of the paper. As he blinked, trying to recall it, he then really stared at her, raking over her face, trying to figure out who she was. Problem was, he didn’t recognize her specifically.

He blushed, peeking to Carl then Tommy. He was extremely glad then that Matthew Calamori was not there. All the things that had happened in Paris flooded back to him, the specific moment in this case being the time he had snuck among a bunch of American teenage tourists at the Eiffel Tower to get away from a bunch of French werewolves who were after him. Never mind he was also there with two of his half-sisters trying to bridge the gap between them as their estranged father.

“You never did contact my friend back for that picture,” Audry said.

Rick was trying to figure out which girl this Audry was. Was it the blonde with a stylish straight bob, her toast-colored gal pal with sporty braids, or the frizzy haired cynic who he had taken the tiger balm from to overwhelm the wolves’ senses? But as he thought that, staring at her cynical expression and brown hair, he knew she had to be the last one. And boy had she changed. She was no longer the awkward teenager atop of the Eiffel Tower with a French club two years ago.

“I don’t have snapchat,” Rick explained once again, blushing.

Prof. Jackson smiled, nodding to her. Apparently she had confided in him their brief encounter. Rick was inclined to find out what she had told him.

Heaving a sigh, Audry said, “Fine. It’s just that you broke the hearts of my best friends, and I’m not too happy with that.”

Moaning, Rick almost clenched his hair, but Carl gestured for him to keep his composure. Seeing it, he merely said to Audry, “For the last time, I am just a guy. Gimmie a break!”

But she was smirking at him. The cynic had grown into a tease.

“Not funny,” he said to her, and reached out for the next project to review. It was from a Zoe Washington, a coffee-skinned gal with long twisted hair extensions, light vanilla spice perfume, and a shirt that said Water is Life.

Audry, however, took a step back, satisfied that she had razzed him enough over their chance meeting in Paris. Rick found it weird, actually, to have bumped into someone to bump into them again, if only for a brief moment to sign a permission form.

After quickly approving Zoe’s project on testing the water near Deacon factories, he took up one about raccoons, which apparently that graduate felt passionate about. Rick reviewed and accepted all but two of the proposed projects. One of the projects was asking permission to hold demonstrations on the Deacon land in Colorado on behalf of the wolves being hunted. Rick nixed it for two reasons. One, the same reason as with the first project he rejected—it looked more like an excuse for a bunch of people to get together and party. And two, because demonstrators tended to mash down the plant life and make themselves a nuisance to the locals. The gal asking for that one was not happy about his response.

“Don’t you care about the wolves!” she barked at him as Carl collected the last of the personal information from the others so the company could issue id badges.

Leaning near her, Rick said in a low voice that almost growled, “I care more about the wolves in Colorado than you do.”

That startled her. She pulled back.

“Hey, Rick,” Tommy pulled on his shoulder, “If you are done here, we need to continue on.”

Rick nodded and stepped out from the booth. But looking back, he could see that girl was shaken. Had he gone too far? Had he lost control and gone a little wolf?

And worse, that gal from Paris, Audry, called to him, “Hey, just because you are rich doesn’t mean you can talk to people like that.”

Staring at her, Rick was about to respond, but Carl urged him away, and so did Tommy.

As they were heading on to the next area, Rick whispered to Tommy, “Did I lose control? Was I going wolf? Is that why you got me away?”

Chuckling, Tommy shook his head. “Nope. We are late for your question answer session, and she was trying to get you into a fight.”

Rick looked to Carl for confirmation.

Carl was as professionally mellow as ever. If he had crossed the line, Carl was not going to let him know until afterward when they were alone.

But one of the guards nudged him. “You were fine.”

Nodding, his nerves relaxing, Rick took in a deep breath and continued on. If he had lost control, that would have been the worst.

Chapter Four

“What was that thing about Paris, though?” Tommy asked as they walked toward the hall for their question/answer session.

Blinking for a moment, thinking, Rick told a half-truth. “When I was with my father in Paris a summer two years ago, I got to tour the city. I bumped into that girl and her school club at the Eiffel Tower. She and her friends pegged me as, well, me. I was sort of incognito at the time to avoid attracting unwanted attention. But, uh, they managed to finagle a selfie with me at the base of the tower.”

“And posted it on snapchat?” Carl asked.

“It was two years ago,” Rick said with a shrug. “I’m sure it is gone now.”

“But what if they posted it on Tumblr?” Carl stated.

Rick halted. “What are you implying? It was just a quick photo. People take quick photos of me all the time.”

Carl nodded. “Just as long as they stay quick photos.”

“I’m not allowed to have friends?” Rick muttered, not feeling like walking with a professional posture now.

Halting, Carl met Rick’s gaze with a hard stare. “Friends, you can have. But some of your associations are not as sturdy as your eight friends or those from Gulinger Academy are.”

Tommy cringed, stepping back, as this was not his argument.

 “And innocent girls like that could get hurt,” Carl said and continued on.

Rick flinched. And he nodded.

Of course they could get hurt. Humans in the employ of his father, especially those who knew about them being werewolves, were always taking a risk. Hunters had killed people close to them before, including a steward who had watched out for Rick in his early years when he was hunting inside a closed YMCA basketball court. Carl clearly felt the danger of it.

“I’m sorry,” Rick muttered, pulling within himself as he followed him.

“Hey…” Tommy stepped to his side, putting his arm around Rick. “It’s not your fault.”

Carl kept professionally silent as Tommy shot him a hard look.

Yet Rick shook his head. “But he’s right. People die around me.”

Paling, Carl looked to Rick and halted his walk. “Oh. I didn’t quite mean it like that.”

But Rick kept shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s the truth.” He lifted his eyes to his father’s personal assistant. “I don’t want to see you get hurt because of me.”

Softening, Carl cringed. “Trust me when I say that working for the Deacons is not anything I regret.”

“But do you ever fear for your life?” Rick asked, looking at him square. “I mean—”

“It would be the same if I worked for Bill Gates or Donald Trump,” Carl explained with a chuckle. “Not to quote an entirely infantile teeny-pop song, but haters are going to hate