Head bowed over his chest, the Were put a hand in the air. It was small for a man, and thick, with short powerful-looking fingers. Sweat had turned his spandex shirt a darker gray, and he slowly moved his well-muscled legs into a less awkward position.

I took a step back, my hand on my hip, lungs heaving as I recovered from the climb. Angry, I took off my sunglasses and hung them from my waistband and waited.

“David,” he rasped as he looked up at me, immediately dropping his head while he struggled to take another breath. Pain and a hint of embarrassment had laced his brown eyes. Sweat marred his rugged face, thick with a black stubble that matched his long hair. “God bless it,” he said to the ground. “Why did you have to hit me? What is it with you redheads, anyway, always having to hit things?”

“Why are you following me?” I shot at him.

Head still bowed, he put up a hand again, telling me to wait. I shifted nervously as he took a clean breath, then another. His hand dropped and he looked up. “My name is David Hue,” he said. “I’m an insurance adjuster. Mind if I get up? I’m getting wet.”

My mouth dropped open and I took several steps back onto the path as he rose and wiped the snow from his backside. “An insurance adjuster?” I stammered. Surprise washed the remnants of adrenaline from me. I put my arms about myself and wished I had my coat as the air suddenly seemed colder now that I wasn’t moving. “I paid my bill,” I said, starting to get angry. “I haven’t missed one payment. You’d think for six hundred dollars a month—”

“Six hundred a month!” he said, his features shocked. “Oh, honey, we have to talk.”

Affronted, I backed up farther. He was in his mid-thirties, I guessed from the maturity in his jaw and the barest hint of thickening about his middle that his spandex shirt couldn’t hide. His narrow shoulders were hard with muscle that his shirt couldn’t hide, either. And his legs were fabulous. Some people shouldn’t wear spandex. Despite being older than I liked my men, David wasn’t one of them.

“Is that what this is about?” I said, both ticked and relieved. “Is this how you get your clients? Stalking them?” I frowned and turned away. “That’s pathetic. Even for a Were.”

“Wait up,” he said, lurching out onto the path after me in a snapping of twigs. “No. Actually, I’m here about the fish.”

I jerked to a stop, my feet again in the sun. My thoughts zinged back to the fish I had stolen from Mr. Ray’s office last September. Shit.