Chapter 22
Sloane
An incredible glow shimmered every surface in the room as I pulled myself from a delicious fog.
Only in doing so, I had to slip away from the raucous dream.
Holy moly, the dream had been carnal. Primal. Unsettling.
And of course every frame, every vivid image had included Beck ‘the Devil’ Kendrick. Every single one. His face. His muscular chest. Thighs the size of tree trunks.
I pushed my hands against the soft sheets, marveling that he’d even own a set so luxurious. There seemed to be a lot about the man I didn’t know about or understand.
Since arriving at Beck’s house—correction, his brother’s house—other than bantering at first then him chastising me for needing a man to kill a small bug, he’d said almost nothing. In fact, he’d grunted more than enunciated any actual words.
That’s how pissed he remained.
He’d made dinner including chicken on the grill that had been surprisingly edible. No, that wasn’t fair. He was an amazing cook. Another surprise.
Just like seeing his wolf.
After yawning, I stretched, only to realize a deep ache had settled into my bones.
I had to remind myself I’d basically been in a car accident.
I was also itching all over, including under the single bandage I had on my leg from a long but not deep gash.
The tape alone was enough to make me want to scratch my face off.
Instead of looking like some monster, I ripped off the bandage instead.
I’d certainly have a nasty bruise by the end of the day. Wasn’t that called a badge of honor? I wasn’t certain from what because I’d had an angel looking over my shoulder. Well, an angel in devil’s clothing. Or was that a wolf in sheep’s clothing?
I planted my feet on the floor after moving to a sitting position. The window was cracked open to allow in the fresh air and various scents of the forest.
However, the fragrance that lingered in the room was his. Every room in the house smelled like him. Why was it that we couldn’t even hold a decent conversation without snarking at each other? I was just as guilty.
I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the man. Somehow, some way, I had to make him listen to me if only for five minutes. That’s all I needed. Then if he still wanted to hate me, I would leave as soon as the very gruff, angry doctor said it was okay.
Stiff as a board, I made it to the kitchen, noticing a pot of coffee and a mug sitting in front of the coffeemaker. A clean cup. With a little note.
Creamer in the fridge, sugar in the cabinet above. I don’t keep frilly sugars so plain is all you get.
The note was so like him, but as I traced my finger across the cursive letters, I was able to smile. At least he’d thought of me. After pouring a cup, no frilly sugar needed, I moved through the house, ensuring I didn’t touch anything as demanded.
Ford had manly tastes, camel leather furniture surrounding a stone fireplace and a recliner in the corner that had seen better days. Everything has a rustic appeal. From what I knew about Ford and Beck’s other family members, I had a feeling the home captured Beck’s tastes as well.
What I noticed in my trek through the house was that he wasn’t in it. Did he hate me so much that he’d decided to run away from me? I checked the front window. No, his truck was still parked in the same place. Maybe he feared I’d steal him blind.
With a bitter laugh, I headed to the back door, wondering if he’d gone outside.
As soon as I stepped out, I was offered an incredible view of a mountain range that appeared so close, I could almost reach out and touch the peaks.
They lifted majestically toward the bright blue sky where billowy white clouds floated by.
The weather was nothing like the day before, but I was still able to gather a scent of the forest after a rain. I used to adore storms. Now I wasn’t so certain I’d be able to any longer.
I shielded my eyes from the glare while scanning the back of the property. Still no sign of him. Obviously, he’d taken a walk to stay as far away from me as possible. I leaned over the railing, enjoying the beautiful morning and a delicious cup of coffee.
A few seconds later, a sound caught my attention. Music. Maybe coming from neighbors. No, the closest house was about a mile away. Maybe it was possible the sound carried with the light breeze.
Guitar music. How beautiful. I stood where I was, enjoying whoever the artist was until I realized I wasn’t listening to satellite radio or some other sound stream. Whoever was playing the guitar was doing so in real time.
What were the odds Beck was also a musician?
After a couple of minutes, I grew so curious I did the unthinkable, walking into his bedroom. In the corner was a guitar stand. My goodness. He was playing music.
Maybe he’d kill me then leave me in the wild for animals, but I had to get closer.
I’d need shoes to do that. The only problem was I had one pair and they were definitely not designed to walk through the forest.
They’d need to do.
Just before I went to change, I noticed a pair of his boots near the closet door. What the heck. He wasn’t wearing them. Hmmm… Call me a brat, but I was eager to annoy him. That was one way of getting him to talk to me.
I quickly threw on some clothes. I’d packed quickly, now second guessing what I’d shoved into the single suitcase. The tee shirt and shorts would have to do with my choices being so limited.
While I had to double knot the boots and pray they didn’t fall off, I was ready, fearful he’d stopped playing. I needed the sound to guide me through the trees.
He hadn’t.
As soon as I headed into the forest, all I could think about was how the town was surrounded on all sides by woods. A perfect place for wolves to run freely, getting their freak on.
Maybe the mild concussion was a little deeper than I’d thought. With my thoughts rambling all over the place, I was beginning to wonder if the doctor hadn’t been a quack.
There I went again thinking crazy thoughts and why?
Because being around Beck made me crazy.
Not always in an enticing manner either.
As I was drawn deeper into the woods, I realized it was entirely possible I got lost. No, there was an obvious pathway, twigs and fallen leaves crushed under heavy feet.
The location was beautiful, the foliage lush and so green. There were even a few wildflowers dotting the landscape. Being outside was very peaceful.
Thankfully, the sound grew louder, but I also heard another noise. Running water. Before I pushed my way through a clump of trees, I sensed Beck, the crackle of electricity humming across my skin undeniable. I made out his silhouette. He was sitting on a grassy knoll by a riverbank.
With a guitar in his hand.
I remained where I was, enjoying doing nothing more than watching him. He strummed a few additional bars before stopping.
“You can come out now, Sloane. I know you’re there.”
“How did you know?” I pushed my way through, moving closer yet keeping some sense of distance. Maybe the truth was that the man just made me nervous. Stranger things had occurred in my life.
He laughed. “You scared off all the wildlife with your heavy feet.” To add insult to injury, he peered down at the boots. “Now you’re a thief.”
“Please. I didn’t think sandals were the best choice.”
“What happened to your tennis shoes?” The man was smirking with his question.
“Are we really going to keep arguing? Seriously?” I tried to ignore his rude comment, keeping my gaze on the stunning, perfectly clear river tumbling over rocks, but being around him, the simple task was very hard.
While no matter where my gaze landed, there was something incredible to appreciate, already I couldn’t concentrate.
“This isn’t arguing, Sloane. Trust me.”
I turned to face him, more frustrated than during any conversation we’d had up to this point. “Are you going to keep doing that? Really? You are infuriating as fuck.”
You bet he intended on annoying me any way he could.
I had to remind myself I was intending on doing the same.
He continued strumming the guitar while studying me.
In turn, I paid more attention to the way his fingers were moving across the frets and strings with such ease, I had a sense he’d been playing for a very long time.
Whether he wanted me here or not, I sat down on the ground beside him, uncertain what if anything to say any longer.
“That’s beautiful, Beck.”
“You mean for a guy who can’t carry a tune?”
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Carry a chip on your shoulder. You know when I first met you, I didn’t think you had one. Sure, you were labeled a man-whore and a guy who didn’t have a serious bone in his body, but that’s entirely different.”
“Man-whore?”
“Oh, come on. You know that’s what certain people call you on the internet. At least the puck bunnies adore you.”
He switched songs, the selection just as charming, perhaps even seductive with a haunting quality that almost made me sad.
“I don’t care about the internet or the puck bunnies.”
“Oh, really,” I tossed back. “You could have fooled me since I was forced to come to you.”
I’d just given him an opening to a line so huge and I knew the moment when it ran through that big brain of his.
“Don’t you dare say it!” I pointed my finger at him.
“Oh, I get the finger now. With a chipped nail to boot.”
The man had a way of disarming me that would forever drive me to the point of doing heinous acts. I glanced at my hand, noticing two nails were broken and with the others being chipped, it appeared as if I’d been in a scrappy fight.
I had. With a tree.
“You are such a pain in the ass. Has anyone ever told you that?”
At least he grinned the way he used to. “My sister and all the time.”
“Well, everyone should!” I was a little too forceful, but he brought out the worst in me.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“No, that was harsh. Or maybe not harsh enough. I’m conflicted as hell about you. Where did you learn to play?”