5. Olivia
OLIVIA
HYDRATION IS KEY TO AVOIDING THIRST
“So, if you’re having an issue with a client being rude and you want to discreetly include one of our supervisors in the email so they can follow along, how would you do that?” I asked, trying to keep my tone completely neutral.
“Um… forward?”
Don’t sigh, don’t sigh, don’t sigh!
Everyone learned at different rates, but I’d spent close to two hours explaining how to CC and BCC people on emails as well as the difference between them, and my younger cousin was just not getting it.
I couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or her trying to keep me around longer because she was scared of flying solo.
Neither option was great, but if it was the latter, she was up shit’s creek because I was not being late for my first woodworking workshop.
“No, you want to BCC, because CC’d people are visible to every recipient, but BCC is hidden from everyone but you.”
“Ohhh….” she said, drawing the sound out. There was a beat of silence, and I knew she wasn’t done. “Why would I do that again?”
Don’t sigh, don’t sigh, don’t sigh!
Sighing wouldn’t help my baby cousin learn anything. Instead, I inhaled deeply through my nose and explained it all.
Again.
While I was doing that, the triplets came for a visit at the warehouse office and were doing their normal impression of the Tasmanian Devil times three, so I dipped out.
I was sure that Cecilia’s understanding was…
middling at best, but that was fine. I would only be gone for the rest of the afternoon, and Wednesdays were usually slow.
If she messed anything up, I could fix it by lunch tomorrow.
Unfortunately, despite trying to be as proactive as I could, I found myself pulling into the college parking lot three minutes after the workshop started.
Shit. I tried not to panic. I hated being late. When I went to college for an administrative degree to help with the family business, I had always been early to class so I could set everything up and be mentally prepared to learn when the professor finally walked in.
“Already starting off on the wrong foot…” I muttered under my breath as I grabbed my water bottle and bag. I glanced at the directions I’d printed out from the welcome packet, then hurried to the workshop.
I was indeed the last person to arrive. Thankfully, the instructor didn’t seem to be present, but I still tucked my head down and hurried to the only workstation open at the back of the class next to a perfectly made-up woman dressed in a bright pink jumpsuit and floral pink jacket with her perfectly blonde hair pulled up into a perfectly tight ponytail.
Huh, I hadn’t thought much about my outfit before, but suddenly I felt schlubby.
I thought leggings and tunics were in? I pondered to myself, trying to remember the last time I’d even glanced at a fashion magazine.
It wasn’t like I could get hand-me-downs from my sisters.
I was too chubby for anything in Ginna’s closet, too short and busty for anything Serafina would wear while not pregnant, then too small for anything when she was with child.
So, I mostly thrifted comfortable, office-appropriate clothing.
But all my thoughts of style flew out of my head when I heard heavy footsteps entering the back of the workshop. I craned my neck to see the most delicious hunk of a man I’d seen in months.
“Oh my god…” I whispered to myself. I was very happy that I was likely the only shifter around. Otherwise, another student was definitely smelling the sudden spike in my pheromones.
Am I ovulating? I thought as my mind eagerly began cataloguing the hunk of a man who was carrying a box to the front.
First of all, he was massive in an almost cartoonish way. I swore if he palmed my face, his fingers would go deep into my curls, and his biceps were bigger than my entire head. He had at least seven inches on me and was nearly twice as wide, his shoulders broad enough to need their own zip code.
He was dressed in the lumberjack outfit I’d imagined myself in not that long ago, but the reds and blues in his shirt brought out the copper tones in his hair and beard, making his hazel eyes pop.
I could tell he had the build of a strongman. Not those fully chiseled, dehydrated superhero silhouettes that were so dangerous to actors in the movies, but a Viking who could throw me over his shoulder and not even blink about it.
How long has it been since I got laid? That was a completely inappropriate thought to have about my instructor, but it had been a while.
My last hookup had been back in college, and it had been about as disappointing as one might expect, leaving me in a really long dry spell.
Honestly, most of the time I didn’t even notice it.
My sex drive was mild for a shifter, but suddenly, I was acutely aware of how long it had been.
And, as it turned out, watching him go was just as interesting as seeing him arrive. He was most definitely double-cheeked up on a Sunday with thick thighs that could probably crush me. I knew it was a stereotype for men to like those things on a woman, but hot damn, did I love me a big man.
Did I know that about myself? I feel like I’m already learning things and the class hasn’t even started!
“He’s single, but I have no idea on his sexuality.”
I jolted, wondering where the bell-like comment came from. When my soul returned to my body, I whipped my head to the side to see the supermodel in the workstation next to me regarding me with an amused expression.
“Pardon?”
“Our instructor. I looked him up, did a bit of a social media dive. Unless he’s being extremely secretive, he’s not married and has no posts about a long-term partner. But like I said, that doesn’t mean he’s straight.”
She said it so matter-of-factly that I blinked owlishly at her despite being a wolf. “You stalked his social media?” I whispered back, sure that I had somehow misheard in the throes of my unmitigated thirst.
“Of course. I do that with all my professors. You’d be surprised with how much time it saves in the long run.”
I cleared my throat. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“You should. I only ever lie to corporations and cops.”
Okay then.
“My name’s Amanda, by the way. I prefer my full name but you may call me Mandy if you’re not a jerk about it.”
“Olivia,” I answered automatically. “And just Olivia.”
“Firm. I approve. Hello, Olivia, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Amanda.”
I probably would have puzzled over that interaction a bit longer, but the instructor had reached the front of the class and had begun to talk.
Thankfully, I was able to shake myself out of my hormonal stupor and concentrate on the words coming out of his mouth.
Because they were important. While I didn’t have to worry about injuries like my presumably human fellow students did, I did have to worry about accidentally exposing my people if I got injured and then rapidly healed in front of everyone.
Now that I thought about it, maybe woodworking hadn’t been the best idea.
But whatever, I was present, and I wasn’t about to leave in the middle of the first lesson.
Even if the instructor weren’t distractingly attractive, I was determined to give the good old college try to my newfound independence.
However, he was exactly my type, which he only further proved when he began to speak.
Not only was his voice low—and I mean low—but there was a softness to the rumble that I hadn’t expected.
It was as if his voice was layered in velvet and meant to be listened to intently rather than filtered out.
If I wasn’t a wolf, I might have needed to strain for some of the softer things he said.
Instead of being annoyed, though, I found myself enraptured.
I repeatedly had to remind myself to concentrate on his instructions rather than the subharmonics in his voice.
I could smell he was human, so he likely had absolutely no idea of all the layered and honeyed notes that he infused his instructions with.
Oh boy, I am in trouble!
“Now, I know I’ve hit you with a lot of information, but I’m going to come around to every workstation and go over everything personally with you, so do not panic.”
Wait, he was coming to my workstation? Personally?
My mind was suddenly aflutter. What did I say? Did I play it cool? Could I play it cool? Did I clam up like the socially awkward wolf that I was? Try to joke?
AAAAAHHH!
Calm down, girl. It’s just a man. A human man, I chided myself. I had at least twenty minutes to get my shit together before he reached me.
True. But have you also considered: AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!
“There’s a binder at each of your stations with suggestions and directions for your first project.
Some are simpler than others, and of course, you’re always welcome to do your own thing after talking it through with me.
So, unless anyone has any questions immediately, I’m going to start my rounds. ”
A binder! Binders were good. A binder meant I could look at something that wasn’t the giant instructor with forearms so thick and layered with muscle they could probably power a small town with the amount of kinetic energy they generated.
I opened it, flipping through the many pages. Finally, the studious side of my brain took over, and I was able to get lost in the reading.
The binder consisted of several different projects, and each project had a set of pages that detailed the instructions. Although they were all labeled as beginner, some were much more complicated than others, and my mind settled as I figured out what I wanted to tackle first.
Nothing too delicate, but nothing too boring. I wanted to challenge myself, not cruise. So no to the simple wooden box, but also no to the jellybean dispenser. No to the spoon, but also no to the pipe.
Maybe… maybe the mug?
It was a simple design. Nothing that would win any awards, but it had clean lines, and the instructions didn’t look too intimidating.
Okay, so mug it was.