Claimed By the Reporter Alpha (Sunshine & Snarls #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

DAWSON

He is so annoying.

The studio lights were too bright, the air conditioning was set wrong again, and Parker Fleetwood was doing that thing where he smiled like the sun itself had taken human form.

"And now let's check in with our very own Dawson Adair for the weather."

Parker's voice had that particular quality that made my teeth ache. He was relentlessly cheerful, as if he'd never experienced a bad day in his entire life.

"Dawson, I hear we might finally get some relief from this heat wave?"

I stepped into frame, positioning myself in front of the green screen that would display my carefully prepared weather graphics. "The high-pressure system currently dominating the region will begin to break down by Thursday, allowing cooler air from the north to—"

"You heard it here first, folks! Our expert meteorologist is telling us cooler temps are on the way." Parker's megawatt smile aimed at Camera Two. "Dawson's been tracking this system all week. So what does that mean for our weekend plans?"

I gritted my teeth. That wasn't quite what I'd said, but at least he'd acknowledged my work. "Beautiful temperatures in the low seventies by Saturday, though there's a forty percent chance of precipitation. Residents should monitor updates."

"Perfect weather with just a small chance of showers!" Parker's enthusiasm somehow made even rain sound appealing. "Thanks for keeping us informed, Dawson. We're lucky to have the best meteorologist in the metro area."

And just like that, I was dismissed, though with a compliment that shouldn't have pleased me as much as it did.

Parker had already pivoted to face Camera One, launching into some story about a local farmer's market while I stood there with three more minutes of detailed forecast information that viewers actually needed to hear.

My wolf was irritated by the dismissal but he was also pestering me by knocking on my temple and whispering.

I took no notice as I concentrated on Parker's scent that had been increasingly difficult to ignore over the past few weeks.

But I couldn't help but focus on his hands as he gestured to the audience at home.

His graceful movements reminded me of a gazelle which was silly. He was as human as a human could be.

I retreated to my desk in the back corner of the studio, as far from the main set as possible.

Through the glass partition, I could see Parker chatting with the crew during the commercial break, making them all laugh with a story I couldn't hear.

His dark hair was slightly mussed from where he'd run his fingers through it between segments, and stubble covered his jaw despite the makeup they'd put on him earlier.

He had this way of tilting his head when he listened that made him look interested in whatever boring story someone was telling him.

Even from here, watching him move with that easy grace, I sensed my wolf paying attention in a way that spelled nothing but trouble.

"Rough segment?" Zara, one of the camera operators, stopped by my desk with a sympathetic smile.

"He cut me off." I pulled up the extended forecast on my monitor, seeking the comfort of data and models.

"But he made sure everyone knew you were the expert." She leaned against my desk. "The ratings have been up fifteen percent since he started hosting. People love how he translates the technical stuff."

I grunted, which was my standard response when I didn't want to admit someone had a valid point. Parker Fleetwood had been the morning show host for eight months, and in that time, "Good Morning Metro" had gone from struggling to the top-rated morning show in our market.

It didn't mean I had to like working with him.

"There's a major storm system developing in the Gulf." I pointed at my screen. "Could be significant by mid-week."

Zara leaned in to look at the satellite imagery. "How significant?"

"Too early to say definitively, but the conditions are favorable for rapid intensification." I pulled up three different forecast tracks, all showing concerning trajectories. "We could be looking at our first major hurricane of the season."

"Should I tell Parker?"

"Not yet. I need to run more models first."

What I didn't say was that I needed to be certain before I gave Parker any information, because he'd inevitably spin it into some folksy, oversimplified version that would make me want to shift and run into the nearest forest.

The morning show wrapped at nine, and I finally had the studio to myself.

Most of the crew cleared out quickly. Early call times meant early departures.

Parker usually lingered, chatting with anyone who'd listen, but today I heard him in the hallway outside the weather center, his laugh carrying through the walls.

My wolf's ears perked up at the sound, which was becoming a disturbing pattern.

I was thirty-six years old and had learned long ago to keep my distance from humans, especially attractive ones who worked in close proximity.

My last relationship had ended badly when I'd tried to explain why I sometimes needed to disappear for a few days during the full moon.

He'd assumed I was cheating, and I'd let him believe it rather than risk the truth.

Since then, I'd kept things simple: work, my small house on the edge of town, and monthly runs with the handful of other shifters in the area. We weren't a formal pack. Most of us were lone wolves who'd drifted to the city for various reasons, but we maintained loose connections.

It was a carefully balanced life that left no room for complications like fated mates. Especially not fated mates who hosted morning television shows and smiled like they'd never met a storm cloud they couldn't brighten.

"Dawson?" Parker's voice came from the doorway, making me nearly drop my coffee mug. "You got a second?"

I turned to find him leaning against the frame, still wearing his on-air clothes—a pale blue button-down with a striped tie that brought out the warmth in his brown eyes.

The shirt was well-tailored and emphasized his broad shoulders.

His black hair was slightly mussed now that he'd run his hands through it, destroying whatever the hair and makeup people had done earlier.

My wolf took one look at him and started pacing beneath my skin. He told me Parker was special but I did the shifter equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and repeating in a sing-song voice, I can't hear you.

"I'm working."

"I can see that." He moved into the room without invitation, and suddenly my private sanctuary smelled like citrus and something sweeter. "I wanted to apologize for cutting you off during the segment. I know it frustrates you."

That caught me off guard. "You're aware you do it?"

"Of course I am." He perched on the edge of my desk that was too close for comfort. "But we only have four minutes for the weather. If I let you give the complete forecast with all the technical details, we'd need twenty."

"Accuracy requires context."

"Accuracy requires viewers to actually be watching when you deliver it.

" His tone was gentle. "If I lose them because we're talking about atmospheric pressure systems for five minutes, then the accurate information doesn't reach anyone.

You're brilliant, Dawson. I'm just trying to make sure people stick around to hear it. "

I wanted to argue, but he had a point. A frustrating, logical point that my wolf seemed to find oddly attractive. Damn him.

"There's a storm system in the Gulf. It's developing faster than initial models predicted."

Parker's expression changed immediately, the perpetual sunshine dimming to something more serious. "How worried should we be?"

"On a scale of one to ten? Currently a five, but it could escalate to an eight or nine if conditions hold." I pulled up the latest satellite imagery. "See this here? That's a sign of rapid intensification. And the sea surface temperatures are nearly perfect for a major hurricane."

He studied the screen with more focus than I'd expected. "What's the timeline?"

"Seventy-two to ninety-six hours before we know the likely track with any certainty. But if it comes our way..." I highlighted the cone of uncertainty on the map. "We'll need to prepare for significant impacts."

"Extended coverage. We should start planning now." Parker straightened. "I'll talk to Isla about clearing the schedule for the rest of the week."

"I'll need more time on air to provide proper updates."

"You'll have it." He stood, and for a moment we were close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. "We're a team, Dawson. Even if you don't like how I present things, we're both trying to serve the viewers."

My wolf whined, wanting me to lean closer, to breathe in more of that citrus-sweet scent. But I forced myself to step back instead.

"Fine. I'll have updated models by this afternoon."

"Great." He smiled and it was more genuine than his on-air expression. "And Dawson? I know you think I'm just some cheerful fool who doesn't take things seriously, but I do. I care about getting it right. I also care about making sure people are listening when we do."

He left before I could formulate a response. My wolf was interested in following him and learning more about why his scent made us want things we'd long ago decided were impossible.

I forced my attention back to the weather models, but the data blurred in front of my eyes. Instead, I kept seeing Parker's expression when he'd looked at the satellite imagery and how his natural optimism had given way to genuine concern.

Maybe he wasn't as shallow as I'd assumed.

My phone buzzed with a text from Tony, one of the other local shifters I occasionally ran with.

Full moon is this week. You in?

I typed back a quick affirmative. I needed to shift and to let my wolf run off some of this restless energy before I did something stupid.

The afternoon passed in a flurry of model runs and data analysis. The storm system was definitely strengthening, and three of the five major forecast models now showed it tracking toward our region. By evening, I had enough information to justify a preliminary statement.

I was preparing the graphics when Parker appeared in the doorway again, this time carrying two takeout containers.

"You've been at this for hours. When's the last time you ate?"

I tried to remember and couldn't. "I'm fine."

"That wasn't the question." He set one of the containers on my desk, and the smell of pad thai hit my nose. My stomach growled traitorously. "I got you the version without peanuts. Zara mentioned you have an allergy."

I stared at the food, then at Parker. "Why?"

"Because people get cranky when they're hungry, and you're kind of cranky enough already." But his tone was teasing, not mean. "Also because I figured if we're going to be working extended hours together this week, we should probably be on better terms."

He had a point. I opened the container and found perfectly prepared pad thai with extra vegetables which was exactly how I would have ordered it.

"Thank you."

Parker grinned like I'd given him a gift. "See? We can be civil. Now, show me what you've got on the storm."

We spent the next hour going over the forecast models while we ate.

Parker made the mistake of licking sauce off his thumb and goosebumps trailed over my skin and I shivered, though he didn't seem to notice my discomfort.

He asked intelligent questions and absorbed technical information faster than I'd expected.

When I explained the difference between the models, he actually took notes.

"So basically, we won't know for sure until Wednesday, but we need to start preparing people now."

"Correct. Better to over-prepare than under-prepare."

"Agreed." He studied the projected path. "I'll work with Isla on a coverage plan. We should probably do live updates every hour once the storm is within twelve hours of landfall."

"That seems excessive."

"It's necessary." His serious expression was back. "People need to know they can tune in any time and get current information. Especially if evacuation orders get issued."

I wanted to argue, but he was right. It was unsettling, this discovery that Parker Fleetwood was more than someone with a cheerful disposition.

He also had a strong jaw that was longing for someone to trail their fingers over and a walk that suggested he understood how his ass swayed when he strode out of a room.

I tried not to stare at him but my pulse had quickened as if I was taking part in a hundred-meter sprint.

"Fine."

He extended his hand. "Partners?"

I looked at his outstretched hand, then at his face. His expression was genuine. My wolf practically begged me to kiss it.

I shook his hand briefly. His hands were warm and slightly callused at the base, probably from where he gripped a microphone. I held on too long before forcing myself to release him, but my palm tingled where we'd touched.

"Partners."

After Parker left, I sat in my empty office with the storm models still spinning on my screens. The developing hurricane wasn't the only thing that had my wolf on alert.

Something was changing. And unlike the weather, I had no models to predict where it would lead.