Chapter 4
Chapter four
Luna
Ikick off my shoes and collapse onto the sofa in my office, my body sinking into the cushions.
“You made it back in one piece, I see,” Maren says without looking up from the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Her long dark hair cascades around her shoulders now, freed from her earlier ponytail. “Eagle’s resting. Gave him the pain meds on schedule.”
“Thanks.” I rub my temples, the tension of the day settling into my skull. “How are your boobs?”
“Ricky got me with his claws. At least it wasn’t my nipple this time, but he’s due for a nail trimming.”
“How’s the baby bobcat doing?”
She turns to face me, her expression darkening. “Still refusing to eat. Tried the new wet food blend you ordered. He looked at it like it was poison.”
My heart sinks. “The psychological damage runs deeper than the physical.”
“Those bastards beat and starved any hope of trust out of him. If I ever get my hands on the sick fucks who did that to him…”
“I’ll hold them down while you use those perfectly manicured nails to scratch their eyes out.” The bite in my voice catches me off guard, and something foreign shifts in my chest, sending my heart racing.
Where the hell did that come from?
Maren snorts, but her eyes light up with amusement. “Dr. Luna Foster advocating violence? Holy shit, I’m impressed. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
“I’m not advocating anything.” The sofa’s springs creak as I shift. The darkness in my thoughts feels too natural, too appealing. “I’m just tired and frustrated.”
“It’s been a long week.” Maren leans back in her chair. “And it’s only freaking Wednesday.”
“I ran into the new owner of the Morrison place at the post office. Well, he ran into me.”
She swivels to face me, interest sparking across her features.
“And? Is he the mysterious billionaire everyone’s been gossiping about?”
“He definitely has that vibe.”
“Hot?” The question comes with that mischievous grin I know all too well.
“We only passed each other in the doorway. He almost knocked me on my ass.”
“That’s not a no. How old is he?”
I shrug, even as my mind drifts back to those piercing eyes. “Hard to say. I didn’t notice from our brief run-in, but Eleanor said he has some gray at his temples.”
“Ooh, silver fox. Luna Foster’s kryptonite.”
“Older men are not my kryptonite.”
“Tell that to your post-Caleb rebound. What was that guy? Like a hundred?”
I shoot her a scathing look as she leans back in her chair again. “In his late fifties somewhere. And he looked younger. I didn’t know how old he was when I agreed to go home with him.”
“Yeah, until you saw the pictures of his wife and grandkids on his fireplace mantel while he was railing you over the sofa.”
“I had no idea he was married either. I don’t fuck married men.”
“Not on purpose.”
“Maren!”
“What?” She shrugs. “If you want to bang married guys, go for it, but come to think about it, I never properly lectured you about that shitshow. I’m all for rebound dick, but you don’t go to some random old guy’s house after knowing him for two hours.
That’s how pretty girls end up in shallow graves.
You make him spring for a nice hotel where you can call security if he goes all Silence of the Lambs on you and tries to ‘rubs it with the lotion’. ”
“That’s not even the right quote, you know.”
“I made my point. Just don’t make me bury your stupid ass because you’re thinking with your vag instead of your brain. I’ll be pissed as hell at you.”
“I’ll come back to haunt you.” My words are meant to tease, but I catch the vulnerability flickering in her eyes. Fear of abandonment—that’s Maren’s weakness, hidden beneath all the crude jokes, inappropriate sex humor, and bravado.
“Empty promises. But back to the billionaire, he’s rocking that hot older guy vibe, huh?”
“I told you. I don’t know. He has incredible eyes, though. Blue like the ocean after a storm.”
“You’re blushing!”
“I am not.” I stand, shoving my feet back into my Skechers.
“Sure you’re not,” she says with a knowing chuckle. “And I’m the good little Catholic granddaughter Estella Rodriguez wishes I was.”
I head for the door. “I need to check on the bobcat before dinner, then call Shadow in.”
“His name is Titus, by the way.” Maren turns back to the computer. “I named him this morning. He needed a strong name.”
I pause, my hand on the doorframe, and turn back to her. “Titus. I like it. Want to stay for dinner? I’ve got leftover pizza and enough veggies to throw together a salad.”
There’s one mom-and-pop pizza shop in downtown Aspen Ridge, but it has pretty decent pizza for a hole in the wall.
Aside from Nancy’s Diner on Main Street, it’s the only restaurant in town, other than a small Chinese place that opened a year ago.
Family-owned by a couple from Boston, it’s the only restaurant in the state that serves Polynesian-fusion Chinese food.
I’m addicted to it. We get it at least twice a month.
“Hell yes to the pizza, hell no to the rabbit food.” She’s already back to typing. “Stop trying to make everything healthy. Carbs are to be enjoyed, not counted.”
Though I’ve never needed to watch what I eat, Maren is very curvy and has struggled with fluctuating weight most of her life.
But she’s comfortable in her own skin and is so strikingly beautiful, with sultry brown eyes, chocolate brown hair, and a smile that stops men in their tracks, that she’s never had an issue attracting them, as long as they can get past her potty mouth.
JT, her current boyfriend of two years, adores her the way she is. And I love him for that.
She shoos me away. “Go check on your patients, Doc, and let me finish these notes before I forget what happened today.”
The recovery den is quiet as I pull the small package of organic chicken liver from the fridge. It’s not exactly pleasant to the human nose, but sometimes it’s the only thing that tempts a reluctant eater.
“Hey there, Titus.” I soften my voice as I approach his cage. Those intense eyes watch me from the back corner where he’s huddled, wary and broken. “Maren tells me you’re being stubborn about dinner.” I crouch, keeping my movements slow. “We’re not like those people. You can trust us.”
The chicken liver makes a wet sound as I place it on the dish and slide it through the feeding slot. “This is the good stuff. No medicine, no tricks. Just food.”
His nostrils flare—progress, maybe—but he doesn’t move from his corner. The silence stretches between us, heavy with his fear and my hope.
“I’ll leave you to think about it.” I rise to my feet. “Nobody’s going to force you to do anything here. That’s a promise.”
It’s one I might not be able to keep much longer. If he doesn’t start eating, we’ll have to consider a feeding tube, but I want to give him every chance to choose.
As I turn to leave, a soft rustling behind me reaches my ears. When I glance back, Titus has moved forward, his body language less defensive as his nose twitches.
I’ll accept small victories like that.
Darkness has settled over the sanctuary by the time I head out to get Shadow. The familiar gravel path crunches under my feet as I make my way toward the wolf enclosure by moonlight. He materializes from the shadows beside the fence.
“Hey, baby.” I kneel and press my hand against his head. He nuzzles into my palm, warm and solid. “Did you enjoy your run?”
Though Shadow’s not as large as wild wolves, he’s still oversized for what most people would consider a pet. Not that he’s domesticated. Wolves can’t be. But he watches me with those intelligent eyes, like he understands every word I say. Sometimes I swear he does.
I scratch behind his ears as the tension of the day starts to ease. “You know what? I think Titus might eat tonight. He moved toward the food when I—“
Shadow’s head tilts, his attention shifting away from me, toward the darkness beyond the trees. The growl starts low and builds in his chest, a sound that’s pure animal. The vibration passes through my hand like a current and makes my skin come alive, raising every hair on my arms.
I push myself to my feet. “What is it, baby? Is there an animal out there?”
The other wolves are already settled in their den for the night, but Shadow’s fur bristles along his spine, his entire body rigid.
It could be anything out there—a mountain lion, a bear, or even just a deer.
But this isn’t his typical response to forest sounds or animal movement.
He’s positioned himself in front of me, his concentration holding the sharp edge reserved for threats that walk on two legs instead of four.
I peer into the darkness but see nothing except shadows and trees and the whisper of wind through branches. Still, the feeling creeps over my skin like ice water. That same feeling I felt on the street in town earlier. Like invisible eyes raking across my skin.
My heart hammers against my ribs. I’ve lived alone on this property for years, surrounded by wild creatures and constant forest sounds. I don’t scare easily. But this isn’t the rustle of nocturnal animals or the crack of settling trees.
This is different.
“Who’s there?” My voice is steady, out of sync with my racing heart. “This is private property.”
Silence only increases the uncomfortable sensation. Eyes in the darkness, watching me, raising goosebumps on my skin. Shadow maintains his protective posture, confirming I’m not imagining things. His growl deepens, and I trust his instincts more than my own.
“Come on, show yourself.” My bravery surprises me. My hands are shaking, but anger overrides fear. “What do you want?”
Nothing.
Just wind through the trees and Shadow’s continuous growling.
“This is stupid, standing here like bait,” I murmur under my breath. I back away from the fence, my eyes never leaving the tree line. “Come on, Shadow. Time for dinner.”