Chapter 3
Chapter Three
She couldn’t believe how much the temperature could drop in these California mountains. When she’d left her cabin this morning, there’d been a frosty haze on the meadow grasses. Gin shivered and stood closer to the bricked-in grill as she stirred the gravy.
Only the clients were still in bed. An hour ago—sometime near dawn—Jake had lit a fire, so Gin could cook over evenly hot coals. The biscuits in the Dutch oven should be done soon.
Kallie’d made the coffee, and Atticus had gone to feed the pack animals.
Unable to resist, Gin checked out the corral. Again.
The Dom was simply heart stopping. His sheepskin jacket made his shoulders even broader. His jeans snugged over a really fine ass. Ignoring the food and water, the horses crowded around him, wanting his attention.
He gave it in full measure just as he had with the students last night. Why did his unstinting generosity make her go all gooey inside?
As the fragrance of bacon rose in the air, Gin popped a crispy strip into her mouth. Yum. Everything tasted better in the mountains.
So…was the great outdoors why her orgasm last night had been off the charts?
Or was it because she’d been tied up?
Or because the person who’d wrapped her up like a macramé project was a drool-worthy hunk? An experienced, forceful Dom?
Or all the above?
Her lips curved. Perhaps, she should research the subject, since—hey, every female in the world wanted to know the answer. She’d start with sex in the wilderness without bondage, and advance to non-wilderness sex with bondage. Either way, she didn’t see a downside.
As for the drool-worthy hunk—and powerful Dom, well… Gin shook her head. Finding comparable subjects might be difficult.
After her “lesson,” Atticus had ignored her excuses, put his fleece-lined flannel shirt on her, and they’d joined the group around the fire.
Classes over, the students and instructors were all having a good time.
Atticus had served her a glass of wine and kept a comforting arm around her.
Whenever she’d look up, his gaze had been on her.
Studying her. Oh, she knew from her romance books he was just being a good—would he be called a top?
—and performing aftercare stuff and making sure she wouldn’t have a bad reaction.
Yet, the way he paid attention when she spoke, how he’d attended to her needs and cared for her, had made her feel important. Beautiful and intelligent.
Worthy.
Later, he’d walked her to her cabin and…mmmhmm…pressed her against the door and devoured her mouth until she was weak-kneed. To her regret, he’d steered her into the cabin and bid her good night as if they’d been on a perfectly ordinary date.
This morning, she’d given herself a talking to about how one-night stands—one-night scenes?—were not to be taken seriously.
Whatever the phrasing, one night was the operative term she’d told herself sternly.
And then she’d seen the remnant of a rope mark on her ankle, and her panties had dampened as if she’d devoured an entire erotic romance. One perfectly good scolding totally wasted. She wasn’t listening to herself at all.
“Those biscuits smell fantastic.” Kallie walked over to steal a piece of bacon. “You can ride trail with me any time you want.” With a quick grin, she strolled out to the cabins and yelled, “Five minutes to breakfast.”
Gin blinked. The woman had a shout rivaling a prison guards’.
The doors banged as people emerged.
A few minutes later, Gin put a giant bowl of scrambled eggs on the table.
Atticus patted the empty seat beside him, so, feeling like a starstruck teenager, she joined him. In the morning sunlight, his eyes were bluer than blue, and his beard was dark against his tan skin, giving him the appearance of a pirate.
He smiled, tugged a loose strand of hair, and released her from the bondage of his gaze.
Conversation was drowned out by the clatter of utensils as the crowd helped themselves. As people dug in, silence ensued.
“I haven’t had biscuits and gravy like this since I left home,” Atticus said eventually, juggling his second biscuit.
The mere sound of his deep, rough voice sent her heart into a set of flip-flops.
“You’re a fucking fine cook, Gin.” His praise and the chorus of agreement warmed Gin better than any sweater.
Even as she smiled her thanks, she studied Atticus. In the daylight, he seemed oddly familiar, as if she’d seen him before…although no woman in the world would forget meeting him. Then again, Bear Flat was so small she might have caught sight of him in the grocery or something.
“Gin, I think you have a volunteer to help with the leftovers.” Jake motioned toward something behind Gin.
She turned to see a black dog with sorrowful brown eyes sitting at the edge of the pavilion. A big Labrador, with every rib showing. She could see the hunger—and hope—in its eyes. “Oh, the poor baby. He’s starving.”
Kallie frowned. “Isn’t that old Cecil’s new bird dog? Um…Trigger?”
“You think?” Jake studied the animal. “You figure no one picked him up when the old guy died?”
“Cecil didn’t have family,” Kallie pointed out. She started to rise.
“I’ll do it. I’ve got some food here,” Gin said. She crumbled a biscuit into the empty egg bowl and poured some bacon grease over it.
“Gin,” Ralph said. “Be careful. The beast looks dangerous.”
No, he just looked hungry.
Before she was halfway across the pavilion, Atticus had joined her. She eyed him.
“Just in case, sweetheart. The guy’s been on his own for a while.”
“I’ll be fine.” Yet, having someone looking after her was comforting. And unfamiliar.
Atticus stood silently as she knelt a few feet from the dog. “Hey, buddy, would you like some breakfast too?” she asked quietly. With the bowl beside her, she reached out her hand.
The dog stood quickly, and she held her breath. What if he did attack? But then he padded forward, neck extended to sniff her fingers. After a second, she was able to stroke his head, ruffle his fur.
“Oh honeyboy, look at you,” she crooned. “No one’s been caring for you, have they?” She nudged the bowl forward. “Time for breakfast, boy.”
The Lab began to lower his head, then waited, gaze on Atticus.
“Go on, buddy. Help yourself,” he said.
And exactly like Gin last night, the dog obeyed the big Dom.
After watching for a minute, Gin let Atticus pull her to her feet. They returned to the table.
“No, we can’t take him in,” Jake was saying to Kallie. “Thor won’t share territory with another male dog. We’re lucky he made an exception for your cat.”
Kallie pffted. “Mufasa would have clawed his face off.”
“Like owner, like cat,” Atticus said and winked at Kallie.
As everyone laughed, Kallie rolled her eyes. “Anyone up for taking in a dog?”
The guests shook their heads, offering excuses ranging from no-pet condos to allergies to a houseful of cats.
“How about you, Atticus?” Jake asked.
“Not a good time. Lost my old hound last month; I’m not ready for another yet.” Atticus looked away.
Bless his heart, he’d loved his pet, hadn’t he? Gin squeezed his arm in sympathy.
His gaze settled on her, and a dimple appeared. “When I grew up, the last person to speak got stuck with the chores. Looks like you won yourself a dog, darlin’.”
“What? No. No, no.” She drew herself up. “You’re very funny, but I can’t—” Her mind spun, trying to think of why she couldn’t.
His grin was drop-dead devastating, darn the man. “Got other pets? Kids? Family? Allergies? No-pet living quarters?”
The little mountain town had very few apartments, and she’d ended up renting an actual house. She thought frantically for a minute and reluctantly answered, “No.”
When he ran a finger over her lower lip, heat touched his eyes, then disappeared as he said, “Cute pout, sweetling.”
Bite him. Show the dog how it’s done.
Atticus’s grin widened as if he could hear her thoughts. He tapped her lip lightly before removing his hand to safety.
Darn.
“You like dogs, sweetling. He likes you too.” He jerked his chin to the right.
She turned.
The Labrador sat behind her, looking ever so obedient. His brown eyes held a hope she couldn’t rebuff.
“I think you’ve been claimed.” Atticus put his hand over hers. “He needs someone—and nothing is as straightforward as the love a dog can offer.”
Gin had always wanted a dog, but her mother hadn’t allowed any animals; a strand of animal hair might mar Mama’s perfection. Preston had refused to consider pets—he hadn’t wanted to share her with anyone or anything.
When younger, she’d visit her pet-blessed friends and discovered that purring cats and wiggling dogs were more addictive than any drug.
A bubble of anticipation rose. Her gaze slid to the Lab. “Trigger? You want to come home with me?”
He licked her hand.
“Fuck, that was too easy,” Atticus muttered to Kallie. “She’s a pushover.”
Grinning, Kallie winked at Gin and changed the conversation to the day’s plans and the route they’d take back to the wilderness tour headquarters.
“So I simply…take him home?” Gin whispered to Atticus.
“That’s right, baby.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, his blue eyes tender. “Take him home. Feed him. Walk him. Love him.”
Atticus smiled down at the little submissive. Her face showed everything she felt, and the wonder there was that of an orphan seeing Christmas tree lights for the first time. She could break a man’s heart.
He wanted to spend some time with her, and the fact she’d sat beside him pleased the fuck out of him. Unlike some awkward post-scene mornings, he was enjoying the woman’s company.
Despite her clothes. Seriously, who wore gorgeous lingerie in a log cabin? And designer jeans and an expensive, curve-fitting sweater in the wilderness? Over it, she was wearing his flannel shirt from last night—and damned if he didn’t like that.