“I get it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate him for his looks.”
She did appreciate him—perhaps a little too much—but she wouldn’t admit that to Beth. “I’m not that superficial.”
“We’re all superficial at first. Passing on Preston for the moment, what about Benson Granger? Don’t tell me that he’s not fine. He’s single, you know.”
“He’s a Granger!”
“Ariel Williamson. That’s not like you. You are kind, caring, and never judgmental. Who cares who his family is? Remember, he is a public servant. He could have gone into private practice and made a lot of money.”
“I’m sure he has family money to rely on.”
“Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t.” Beth held up her hand. “And don’t judge him just because he was doing his job when he prosecuted your brother. What was he to do? Turn down the case and chance harming his career?”
She had asked herself that question. “It doesn’t matter now. Trent is in jail, and Benson helped put him there.”
“You need to talk with him to get his side. He might not be the same person outside of the courtroom as inside.”
Ariel shook her head. “He won’t be able to tell me anything. Doesn’t he have to protect witnesses’ privacy and stuff?”
“I don’t know, but I think that only applies to the defense attorney and attorney-client privilege stuff.”
“Whatever.”
Their server came over. “Another round for you ladies?”
Having too many drinks often gave her a headache, but today had been rough. “Yes, please. Another beer.”
Beth nodded. “Me too.”
The server left, and Ariel’s mind spun. “I have an idea,” she told Beth. “Since you went to school with those two men, maybe you can ask around to see what people think of Preston.”
She laughed. “Men people or the women people?”
Her friend had a point. “Never mind. The men will be jealous, and the women will swoon.”
“You have that right.”
This investigation was going to be tougher than she thought.
* * *
“Do you feel it?” Preston asked Benson the moment they walked into the bar. His friend had exhibited all the signs too.
Preston carefully ran his tongue along his suddenly sharpened teeth and then scratched his freshly shaven face that had sprouted too much facial hair. What the hell was going on? A woman couldn’t have caused it, could she?
“Oddly enough, I do feel a strange hormonal rush.” Benson looked around. “I didn’t want to believe it though.”
“Believe what?” Preston wanted to be sure they were taking about the same thing.
“This will sound crazy, but several times during the Trent Williamson trial, my body would go crazy. My nails would sharpen, and I feared my eyes had changed color. If anyone questioned me about it, the world might learn that werewolves exist,” he said as quietly as possible.
Preston huffed. “While we know how bad that would be, I don’t think people even know what golden eyes imply.”
“My dad told me, but what do you think they mean?” Benson asked.
Preston blew out a breath. The relief caused his symptoms to disappear. “You were around your mate. Or rather, around our mate.”
“Ourmate?”