the fact that we don’t actually have summer internships.”
“We could start one!”
Martin cleared his throat, which immediately got all the noise to die down. “Like I was saying, Cooper, it’s not over yet. Fixing a mistake always takes more time than making one does. We’re talking about a process that’s going to include exhuming whoever’s in Phil’s grave, explaining eight hundred times what happened with Roger, and dealing with what happens when a whole unit of shifter Marshals gets wiped off the map. Off the books, we’re going to be looking for whatever poor guy Roger put through that forced shift, to see if we can help him. And you’re probably going to be getting interview requests every day for a year, minimum. So it’s not over, but... all the worst parts of it are over. We’re behind you one hundred percent.”
“And I’m behind you a hundred and ten percent,” Gretchen said.
Theo looked pained, like Gretchen had attacked the sense of accuracy buried deep within his soul. “That isn’t technically possible—”
“And Theo’s behind you a hundred and fifteen percent,” Martin said.
“Please stop,” Theo said.
“Theo’s son-or-daughter in progress is behind you a hundred and twenty percent,” Colby said, apparently joining them just to heap further abuse on poor Theo’s stickler side.
“We’re teasing you mercilessly but lovingly,” Gretchen said.
“Point made,” Theo said. “I might have to just start calling Cousin Izzie Cousin Isabelle. Or Iz.” He yawned, politely covering his mouth. “And I’m going to head home before all of you decide to mercilessly love me even more.” He held out his hand to Cooper. “It was very nice meeting you.”
Somehow, Theo’s departure signaled that it was time for everyone else to trickle out, too. They all filed past, and each of them shook Cooper’s hand.
The last one to stop by was Keith, still groggy from being woken up. He looked pale and uncomfortable and uncharacteristically uncertain as he offered Cooper his hand. For all of his nervousness, he still looked Cooper straight in the eyes.
The kid had guts.
“I’ll understand if you don’t want to take it,” Keith said, but Cooper had already grasped his hand firmly.
“You were just doing your job,” Coop said.
“I was doing it harshly,” Keith said. He cleared his throat. “I owe both of you an apology.” The hectic flush his face took on implied that he’d maybe never had to give anyone an apology before, but Gretchen would give him credit: even if he found it humiliating, he was doing it anyway. “Gretchen, you were right. I paid too much attention to the rules and not enough attention to the people. And I was unfair because of it. Especially to you, Mr. Dawes. I’d like to make that up to you someday.”
Coop smiled. “I told you before that you could call me Cooper.”
“Cooper,” Keith repeated. He was still red-faced. “Good night. Good night, Gretchen.”
“Good night, Keith,” she said. She felt well-disposed towards him, and warm towards the world in general.
Tonight, at least, their little corner of it was all right.
Then it was just the two of them, Gretchen and Cooper alone in a now darkened office, with just the lamp on her desk to wrap them in a fuzzy yellow halo of light.
She thought she knew what was going on in his head right now, as he looked down in silence at his hands.
Hardly any time had passed at all since she had first taken his hand. Back then, that had been significant enough to rock his world, and the fact that she’d been drawn to doing it was enough to help signal that they were mates. Now, Cooper was coming back—slowly but surely—into a world where that kind of basic respect and decency was nothing more than normal.
She could guess at all that, but she couldn’t even imagine what it felt like.
“Coop—”
“Gretchen, will you marry me?”
Never mind. Maybe she hadn’t known what he was thinking.
What she did know for sure was all the advice people gave about this kind of situation.
Wait until you know each other a little more—just because he’s your mate doesn’t mean you have everything smoothed out yet. Wait until the legal snarls are all worked out. Wait until you’re sure.
But she was sure—and over the last few days, she’d finally learned to be sure of herself.
And she knew that even if she couldn’t wait to know him better—even if she was thrilled to think of familiarizing herself with every little birthmark he had, every story from his childhood, every favorite movie—she already