“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.

“Um,” I stammered, my knees suddenly weak from more than the run. “What fish?” Fingers fumbling, I snapped my sunglasses open. Putting them on, I started walking for the exit.

David felt his middle for damage as he followed me, meeting my fast pace with his own. “See,” he said almost to himself. “This is exactly why I’ve been following you. Now I’ll never get a straight answer, I’ll never settle the claim.”

My stomach hurt, and I forced myself into a faster pace. “It was a mistake,” I said, my face warming. “I thought it was the Howlers’ fish.”

David took off his sweatband, slicked his hair back, and replaced it. “Word is that the fish has been destroyed. I find that extremely unlikely. If you could verify that, I can write my report, send a check to the party Mr. Ray stole the fish from, and you’ll never see me again.”

I gave him a sidelong glance, my relief that he wasn’t going to serve me with a writ or something very real. I had surmised that Mr. Ray had stolen it from someone when no one came after me for it. But this was unexpected. “Someone insured their fish?” I scoffed, not believing it, then realized he was serious. “You’re kidding.”

The man shook his head. “I’ve been following you trying to decide if you have it or not.”

We had reached the entrance and I stopped, not wanting him to follow me to my car. Not that he didn’t already know which one it was. “Why not just ask me, Mr. Insurance Agent?”

Looking bothered, he planted his feet widely with an aggressive stance. He was my height exactly—making him somewhat short for a man—but most Weres weren’t big people on the outside. “You really expect me to believe you don’t know?”

I gave him a blank look. “Know what?”

Running a hand across his thick bristles, he looked at the sky. “Most people will lie like the devil when they get ahold of a wishing fish. If you have it, just tell me. I don’t care. All I want is to get this claim off my desk.”