Lion on the Mountain (Watchdog Mountain Division #3)

Chapter 1

ONE

“I'm sticking every single needle I own into you,” he said.

Oh, this is so not going to go well .

Wren Stapleton lay face down on a table, practically naked under a thin, white sheet, waiting to turn into a porcupine.

Why did I let Barbie talk me into coming here?

“Now it's not going to hurt, I promise. So just relax,” Serge the acupuncturist said. “You’re so tense! Your shoulders feel like they’re cast in iron. We want soft shoulders, don’t we?”

Wren wasn’t sure if she was supposed to nod or answer vocally. She was afraid to move, despite Serge’s promise that this wouldn’t hurt. He was sticking needles into her—she didn’t care how small they were. At least there was a hole in the table for her face, but lying face down like this was wreaking havoc with her sinuses. Or maybe it was the copious incense burning on a nearby table. The smell was supposed to make her relax but instead it made her hold back a sneeze. The last thing she wanted to do was move suddenly. What if Serge stuck a needle in the wrong place and it paralyzed her legs or something?

“Yes, we want soft shoulders,” she finally said, her voice already sounding stuffy.

“Good.” Serge sounded distracted. At least he was paying attention to what he was doing and not to what she was saying. “We’re going to start with your ears.”

“My ears? Seriously? Are my ears tense or something?”

Serge just chuckled. “Funny girl. I like ’em funny.”

And then she felt the slightest pinch at the top of her ear. It actually didn’t hurt.

“See? Not bad, is it?” He stuck several more needles in her ear and walked around the table to the other side of her head.

“I’m withholding judgment until this is over.”

“Oh, I like ’em sassy, too. I should spank you.”

Wait, what? “Um.”

“Just kidding with you. Relax. I’m a professional. I thought you had a sense of humor. That’s what Barbie told me.”

I’m going to kill Barbie and it won’t be funny at all .

“Now let’s tackle those shoulders. You’re going to be so relaxed when this is over you won’t even recognize your own body.”

“Doubtful.”

“Serenity is the goal, Wren. Breathe in and embrace serenity.”

“Hang on. I really need to sneeze.”

“Oh, good, it’s working already. Just let it out. Sneezing is a sign of relaxation.”

More like a sign that this incense is going to kill me before I get the chance to kill Barbie .

The smoke had gotten stronger, and there was a foul odor underneath that didn’t smell natural at all. Maybe it was burning the base it was sitting on? Her nose was too plugged to really tell.

Wren sneezed and then Serge stuck a series of needles in her back like he was making up for lost time. A couple of them made the muscle twinge underneath, but yeah, no pain. And her shoulders and back really did feel more relaxed.

This might be working .

Barbie wasn’t the only one of her photography subjects who raved about Serge but she was the one who finally convinced Wren to book a morning appointment for her shoulders and back. Carting around photography equipment all day was taking its toll.

Though, Wren’s shoulders were almost permanently parked up around her ears way before she ever picked up a full camera bag. She’d just ignore that little fact.

Serenity . She took another deep breath and her nose twitched at the smell.

“Just a few more to go,” Serge said as he stuck another needle in.

“I need to sneeze again.”

“ So relaxed.”

“No, I think it’s the incense making me sneeze.”

He made a disgruntled sound. “It’s barely there. I don’t even smell it anymore. I was thinking of lighting another cone as a matter of fact.”

“Then you’re totally nose-blind because it keeps getting stronger. I think it’s burning the holder or something.” There was definitely an acrid smell beneath the sweet sandalwood odor.

Wren sneezed, clearing her sinuses. “Wait, that’s not the incense. That smells electrical.”

“Huh. I think you’re right.” Wren heard Serge walk over to check the incense. “But it’s not coming from here. Shit.”

Wren listened as he walked across the room and opened the door. She assumed he was checking the hall.

A claxon sounded, and there went all her hard-won serenity. Wren hated sudden loud noises and a fire alarm was the granddaddy of them all.

“Serge? Is everything all right? Should I…?” Wren lifted her head and looked toward the open door.

Her acupuncturist was nowhere in sight.

“He ditched me!”

Wren sat up and looked around. Her clothes sat in a heap on the chair where she’d left them. She jumped off the table, bringing the sheet with her, and headed for the door to close it. But pounding footsteps in the hall and shouts told her she did not have time to get dressed. And was that smoke? The electrical smell was getting stronger, and now it was mixed with other chemical smells.

What about the needles in my back?

She couldn’t very well slip her t-shirt on over those, could she? She reached back, trying to touch them and when her finger brushed against one, she got a horrible cringy feeling just thinking about trying to pull them out.

Just then someone stopped at the door. Thank God, Serge had not abandoned her. He could pull them out quickly.

Nope. Wasn’t Serge.

“You need to get out now,” some rando guy shouted into the room. “Break room’s on fire.”

“Shit!” After one last forlorn look at her clothes across the room, Wren grabbed her purse off the hook beside the door, slipped on her sandals, and awkwardly shuffled out of the room, trying to hold the sheet so it covered her front and her butt at least.

This is worse than a hospital gown. Thank God I didn’t take off my panties . And at least she’d worn the cute ones, not her ratty old period panties. Because everyone was about to get a show.

Wren coughed as she tried not to trip down the hall toward the exit. The smell was god-awful and the smoke harsh. Her hind brain amplified her fear and she forgot she was practically naked as she started sprinting toward the open door and fresh air. Firefighters raced in past her but one stopped to escort her out. He almost put his hand on her back but stopped when he saw the needles there. She wasn’t sure, but she could almost swear she heard him chuckle behind his face shield thingy.

“This way, miss.” He hurried her to the exit, where the entirety of the building waited in the parking lot, facing the building. All eyes landed on her as she emerged. Looks turned from concern to humor when they got a good look at her.

Great. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastic .

Wren tried to wrap the sheet as best she could around her backside without turning and giving everyone a money shot. The least the firefighter could do was give her a hand, but he was already gone, back in the building actually doing something more important than protecting her modesty, she assumed.

All she wanted to do was make a dash for her car, but the idea of driving home with actual needles sticking out of her back gave her the oogies. She kept her backside turned away from the crowd as she inched her way over to the waist-high brick wall enclosing the lot.

She scanned the crowd for Serge, the asshole coward who’d left her there like a helpless and pathetic baby porcupine. Maybe he could quickly de-quill her and she could disappear forever and forget this ever happened.

No Serge anywhere. The bastard had bolted.

Just my luck .

No, this was just her luck—the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on was heading straight for her, and not with a lustful look in his eye but supreme detachment. He was wearing scrubs or some sort of scrubs-adjacent uniform—she was no expert—and coming from the direction of an ambulance parked behind a firetruck.

And damn did he fill out those scrubs. The sleeves looked painfully tight around his upper arms. Fabric stretched across his chest and loosened as it fell toward his tapered waist. Same with the bottoms—he had thigh muscles that didn’t quit.

Stop staring at his scrubs pants. I bet if you looked for it, you’d see he has a face .

Why, yes, yes he does .

Quite a face . Wow . Cool blue eyes whose gaze pierced her like the needles in her back, sending shivers down her spine. A broad, clear forehead, wide cheekbones and hollowed cheeks covered in golden whiskers that matched his tawny hair.

His name tag said Hunt . Because of course it did.

He’s a mountain lion and I’m his prey .

Wren clutched the top of the sheet with one hand at her chest and the other at the small of her back, hoping that her panties weren’t showing.

Just pretend you’re at the Met Gala wearing an evening gown with a plunging back. Own it.

Uh-huh .

The Met Gala was for people like her gorgeous subjects, not for her. So were guys who looked like good old Hunt here.

He stopped in front of her, a full head taller, and studied her impassively.

“Did you inhale any smoke?” he asked. “Any trouble breathing?”

Oh yeah, breathing. Breathing is good she thought when she realized she’d been holding her breath. She inhaled sharply as she shook her head.

“Nope, breathing is not a problem. Been doing it all my life. You could say I’m an expert at it.”

Right along with babbling when I’m anxious .

He reached for her hand, which was still clutching the sheet above her boobies, and she turned at the waist without thinking. The sheet started to slip on one side.

Ah, a tasteful side-boob for the nice gentleman. Good going .

“Sorry,” he said quickly as he jerked his hand back. “I just want to get a pulse-ox on you.” He held up a doodad with a tiny screen reading double zeroes.

“Right. Sure. Of course.” Wren pointed her index finger at him, which he studied, frowning.

Is my finger that ugly? She looked at her bright red nail for chips in the polish but found none. What’s the problem?

“Um, I’m going to have to remove your nail polish to get an accurate reading.”

“Oh. That might be a problem. It’s not polish, it’s dip and requires grinding with a Dremel.”

His lips pursed momentarily before those blue lagoons for eyes brightened. “No big, I can get a reading from your earlobe.” He brushed a lock of her hair back. His thumb grazed her cheek which started an earthquake in her chest.

Then he frowned as he jerked his hand back for the second time.

Oh, God, now what? I know I don’t have nail polish on my earlobes .

“Hmm. Before I can do that, let’s get all those needles out of you. We’ll start with the ones in your ears.”

Her eyes widened. “The ones in my…” She started to raise her hand to her ear and then thought better of it. “Oh yeah, he did put some there, didn’t he?”

Hunt leaned in. He had nice, fresh breath— oh God, I’m noticing his breath, seriously ?—and studied her right ear.

“One drew some blood.”

“Really? How much?” Now she was dying to touch her ear.

“Just a teeny tiny drop. It’s already dried and crusted over.”

Lovely. Perfect. So attractive .

Hunt took a folded blue paper towel out of his med kit and spread it open on the top of the brick wall next to them. Then he reached up to pull out a needle and she held perfectly still.

“I don’t think this will hurt, but I apologize in advance if it does.”

“Nothing can hurt more than my pride right now, so pluck away.”

No smile from Hunt. He was laser focused on her ear as if he were doing brain surgery. She felt disappointment tug at her chest just as she felt him tug the needle from the edge of her ear.

“Got it. One down.” He set the needle in the center of the paper towel. “Wait. I need to count these first so that I don’t miss one or leave one behind for someone to step on.” He shook his head, looking annoyed. With himself? Her? Serge? God knew; his expression was nothing but business otherwise.

Hunt studied her ears, first the right one, then he passed in front of her face—with too-brief eye contact—and looked at her left ear. He took out a Sharpie and wrote 5 per ear on the paper towel, then wrote R ear L ear and back across the top edge and moved the needle to the spot under R ear .

Very logical and efficient. I like that .

Hunt touched her bare upper arm and he might as well have had a buzzer in his hand the way her skin reacted, shooting delicious sparks straight to her tummy, heart and…other places.

Please, nips, do not poke out at him under this very thin, very white sheet .

He gently turned her. No, actually, he very gently tried to turn her but she stood rooted in place.

“I, um.” She giggled nervously. “Didn’t exactly have time to grab my clothing.”

Hunt’s eyes did that widening thing again that Wren was quickly growing addicted to.

“Oh, right.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the parking lot. “It’s okay, I’ll shield you from the crowd.”

Oh, yeah. Forgot about the crowd.

Somehow, her attention had zoomed like one of her telescopic lenses into sharp focus, cropping out everything that wasn’t Hunt the Lionesque Paramedic.

Including an actual burning building . That I just escaped from, mostly naked .

“Are you alright? You suddenly look pale.” Hunt touched two fingers to the side of her neck. Sweet Jesus, did he have live wires running through his hands because every time he touched her he sent delicious shocks through her body.

“Pulse is racing but steady. Do you feel light-headed or faint? I should get you seated.” He shook his head again, the annoyed look back in his eyes.

“No, I’m fine, just reality catching up with me, that’s all.”

He blew out a breath. “Let me get these needles out, get your pulse-ox, BP, hydrated, tested for shock,” Hunt half-mumbled to himself. Maybe he was new on the job, reminding himself of what he needed to do? He seemed very professional otherwise. He hadn’t leered at all, didn’t crack a single joke when the low-hanging fruit was right there for the taking.

Darn it .

Now she felt the overwhelming urge to make him laugh. To crack that professional exterior right open and get to the warm, gooey center that must exist inside this lion.

Get a grip. Stop fantasizing .

It wasn’t like she didn’t spend countless hours in the presence of handsome men. Men who graced the covers of magazines, whose faces were all over the internet with headings like Hottest Bachelors of the Year and Top Ten Guys We’d Like to Smother in Honey and Eat Alive .

Problem was, they were usually boring. Or total jerks. Often both. And they’d all started looking the same to her. Haircut of the season lacquered to their heads. Faces symmetrical. Perfectly balanced. Flat-out boring . Total Ken dolls, really—guys who visually paired well with Barbie. Sure, the camera loved them as they pouted and sneered and only sometimes smiled, but they were always looking at the camera lens, not at Wren. She was merely the human extension of a device that took their picture and increased their fame.

So, why was she going gaga over this guy? Handsome men did nothing for her anymore. Interesting faces did.

Wren braved another good look at Hunt. Yes, he was handsome, but his face wasn’t symmetrical, it wasn’t perfect after all. The nose was just a tiny bit crooked, like it had been broken at one point, but whoever fixed it did a good job. Not a hint of hair gel, and the messiness wasn’t contrived but looked natural, like the result of Hunt running his fingers through it. Maybe his forehead was a little too broad, his cheeks tapering too extremely? Yeah, Hunt had an imperfect but interesting face that reminded her of a lion.

But those eyes were nothing except gorgeous perfection.

Now, if she could just spark some humor in them.

Wren turned a little so that Hunt could get a look at her back and felt herself instantly flush under his intense gaze as he studied and counted the needles there. Her skin prickled as if he were touching her physically.

No, don’t think about…and there goes the nips. Oh, forget it .

At least he was looking at her back.

Hunt picked up his Sharpie and added the number twelve to the paper towel beside the word back .

“Twelve?” Wren asked. “That’s a lot. Isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know acupuncture. Is that more than what you usually get? Hold still.” Hunt was back at her right ear, where he plucked out another needle and set it beside the first one.

“Dunno. This was my first time. Definitely my last with Serge.”

“Serge?”

“Yeah, my acupuncturist. The jerk abandoned me when the fire alarm went off.”

Hunt growled. Actually growled like an angry lion.

Oh. Dear. God .

Something coiled up in her stomach and she wasn’t sure if it scared her or turned her on.

“I don’t like that,” Hunt said.

He plucked out the rest of the needles in her ear and set them aside, then attached the pulse-ox thingy.

“Ninety-eight percent, which is perfect for altitude.”

Hunt unclipped the pulse-ox and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm and declared her blood pressure good, too, even though her pulse was racing.

Yeah, wonder why.

“So, how’d you end up going to this Serge guy?”

She didn’t want to name drop Barbie so she said, “Last time I was photographing someone, she suggested I get acupuncture and gave me Serge’s name. What a mistake.”

“Photographing someone?” He started on her other ear.

“Yeah, I'm a professional photographer.” Wren felt herself starting to blush. “I do portraiture, photo shoots for magazines and book covers, things like that. I’m getting into real estate photography now, too.” That wasn’t all she photographed, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get into her current pet project.

“And someone that you photographed suggested you need acupuncture? Last one.” He removed the last needle and put it with the others.

“For my shoulders.” She shrugged them, raising them toward her ears, and listened to the loud chorus of snaps and pops like firecrackers going off at midnight.

“Wow, that’s bad,” Hunt said.

“Thanks.”

“I can see why someone would suggest acupuncture.”

“Yeah, worked out really great for me, too. Totally relaxed.”

The guy finally cracked a smile and snorted and it thrilled her probably way more than it should have.

“Maybe I should’ve left the rest of the needles in for your relaxation,” he said.

She studied his face. Totally deadpan…except for a twinkle in his eye.

Like sunlight sparkling on water .

Game on. Let’s see who loses it first.

“But I need a good de-quilling,” she said. “It’s that time of year when I shed them.”

“So, now you’re a porcupine? Maybe you did inhale some smoke.”

“It wasn’t that kind of smoke.”

That got her the slightest grin.

Even better, Hunt started to strip for her.

He grabbed the hem of his scrubs top and pulled it up while Wren could only stare in fascination and anticipation of seeing his inevitable six-pack—oh, hell, probably an eight-pack—emerge.

But no, not today with her luck. A white tee hid paradise from her view. Wren did get a tiny glimpse of bare skin right at the top of his pants when the tee hitched up as he pulled the scrubs top over his head. Which was almost worse than nothing at all. That skin was tan and tight and she wanted more.

“Here you go,” Hunt said, handing her the scrubs top. Then he turned around and blocked her from the crowd so she could slip into it unseen.

Which she did as quickly as she could. Luckily, there was a row of evergreens on the other side of the wall blocking the view on the other side. The bottom hem of the scrubs top fell mid-thigh and the V-neck showed off a little more cleavage than she was comfortable with under the circumstances, but this was way better than the drunk-at-a-toga-party look she’d been sporting before.

“Okay, I’m mostly decent now. Thank you.”

Hunt turned around. Those lagoon-blue eyes did that fun and cool widening thing before he looked away at the building.

Oh yeah. Burning building. Forgot about that again.

Only, it didn’t look like it was burning. While Hunt had been de-quilling her, the firefighters had done their job and put out the fire. There was still some smoke in the air and a godawful stench, but no towering inferno.

“Hey!” Hunt shouted to another paramedic standing next to a firefighter. “Anyone else?”

The guy shook his head. “All accounted for. How’s your patient?”

Hunt turned back to Wren. “Hi, how are you?” Deadpan.

“I’m good, great, thanks. Very relaxed.”

“She’s very relaxed,” Hunt shouted back. “Stunningly good vitals.”

“Well, thank you,” Wren said. “I take pride in my vitals.”

Almost . He almost laughed. But then he started counting the needles on the towel as the firefighter started walking over.

“Can I go in and get my clothes?” Wren asked the firefighter. She gestured at herself in Hunt’s oversized scrubs top. “I promise I did not show up here wearing this.”

“I’m afraid not. There’s still a lot of smoke, and just on the off chance that the structural integrity of the building is compromised, no one is allowed back in until further notice.”

“Oh boy. There goes my favorite bra.”

The firefighter gave Hunt a look and walked away without another word.

“You can keep it,” Hunt said, looking at his scrubs top just a little too long.

“I can’t keep your clothes! You need this. It’s like a uniform, right?”

“It is, but I have more.”

“Well, okay. But, can I at least wash it and give it back to you sometime, Hunt?” She unpinned his nametag from the scrubs top and handed it to him.

“It’s Elias, actually. Elias Hunt.” He stuck his hand out for Wren to shake. Then, he ran it through his hair and she was right about the naturalness of his messy hairstyle. “So… I can’t really ask you out.”

She blinked rapidly. Oh. Oh wow. Ouch.

“Okay. I wasn’t asking?—”

“Because it’s not professional. You’re kinda my patient right now.”

Yeah, great, just my luck .

“But. There’s this really cool place where I like to relax after work. And I know how much you’re into relaxation.”

Wren nodded like a bobble head. “Yeah, very much into relaxation.”

“It’s right in Lyons, so, if I were to see you there maybe tomorrow…” He shrugged a broad shoulder. “Or, there’s this other place that’s also really cool, and if you showed up there Friday night ?—”

“Wow. Two whole cool places. What are they?”

Oh God, he smiled. An actual, full-blown, gorgeous smile .

“It’s up to you, depending on what you like. You know, because it’s not really a date, just a couple places that you might go to, and I might be there at the same time and want to check up on you if I happen to see you.”

She nodded. “Just to make sure I’m okay.”

“Just to make sure you’re okay, yeah, exactly.”

“Because you care about my health.”

“Just like any professional would care about your health after escaping a burning building, yeah.”

Now she was trying not to smile. “So, what are these cool places where I might accidentally run into you?”

“One is a coffee shop. Low key, very public, light of day, lots of caffeine.”

“Huh. Caffeine in a coffee shop. Who knew?”

He pursed his lips and nodded sagely. “They specialize in it, actually. And sometimes it gets crowded, so we might have to share a table or else I’d have to drink my coffee standing up and looking like a friendless dork.”

Her chest fluttered with laughter trying desperately to escape her twitching lips. She rolled her lips in and bit down on the bottom one, not trusting herself not to burst out laughing if she tried to speak.

Finally, she gained a modicum of control. “Well, we certainly wouldn’t want you looking like a friend…a friendless…dork.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh .

“You’d share a table with me?”

“I’d share a table with you, yes. As a sacrifice for your not-looking-dorkishness.”

Now his lips twitched as he watched her. “You’re a very kind person.”

“I am, yes. So, what about this other really cool place? Any caffeine there?”

“Not as much. It’s a bar. They have alcohol.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Alcohol in a bar? You don’t say.”

“It’s true. And they have strips.”

Her eyes bulged. “Excuse me, you think you’re going to bump into me at a strip club?” She looked down at herself. “Sir, I think I’ve given you the wrong impression with my public nudity.”

“ Chicken strips.” Now he was rolling his lips in and his blue lagoon eyes sparkled like the sun was shining on them again.

“So, let me get this straight. You want to meet me in a place where live animals strip? Isn’t that illegal in this state? And to think, I let you de-quill me. Pervert.”

And that did it. Elias Hunt burst out laughing.

I win, I win! Wren gave herself a mental high-five.

Elias quickly looked back at the ambulance where a couple other paramedics were watching him, arms folded. One had a definite smirk going on.

“Shit, er, shoot, I gotta go. Your vitals are fine, no signs of smoke inhalation or injuries. Do you think you need to go to the hospital for anything else?” He handed her a form on a clipboard to sign.

“Besides a chance to continue talking to you, no, I don’t need a ride to the hospital this morning.”

He smiled again as he put the clipboard in his kit. “The coffee shop is Riversong and the bar is Cocktails and Chicken Strips. I like to grab my coffee around noon, or I can be persuaded to eat chicken strips and drink a beer at seven on a Friday. Or both. Your choice, um…” His eyes widened. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Wren, like the bird. Wren Stapleton.”

“Alright then, Wren Stapleton.” Elias started walking backward, never taking his eyes off her. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe you will.”

Yeah. You definitely will .