Chapter 7 #2
The girl is everything I want in my life but had no idea I needed. “You must hate living at Winnie’s,” I say with a laugh, unable to skip the derisive note that filters into my voice.
Lanie freezes. Her eyes flick up, then past me. I frown, already a half step in front of her. My momentum carries me forward as she darts behind me, heading toward the tree line.
A shadow moves there, beyond the behemoth trunks, the slightest waver of light between the darkness.
Something heavyset, something that shouldn’t be there.
A warning builds behind my lips as she peers deeper, raising two fingers to wave me back when my feet scuff the dirt and my mouth opens on a shout that never leaves my throat.
Light flickers between the trees a second time.
She’s not the only one staring into the darkness, though I’ve long learned to watch the spaces between the trees to find what I seek.
A shape, maybe a wolf, but something’s not quite right about the way the thing moves.
Light reflects on green, but I can’t focus on anything, and I lunge forward, grabbing for her—
Lanie flaps her hand behind herself a second time as if to quiet me.
“I didn’t say anything,” I protest in a hush.
“Shh! Look.” She points between the thick trunks, crouching to ground level.
I lean over her, one hand hovering above her back, ready to pull her back if the whatever-the-fuck-that-thing-is decides to launch.
I’m not convinced it’s as harmless as she clearly thinks.
“I don’t see anything,” I lie again, not quite prepared to admit that just maybe our local con artist has it right this time.
The concept of a dire wolf or, hell, even a rogue wolf in Valiant Peak guts me.
But the local population hunting the poor creature down for stealing a few poorly housed farm beasts or scavenging through the town will gut her.
My breath breaks off abruptly as a shadow, a whole lot larger than it should be, crosses a patch of light.
Gray fur, a flash of something white or maybe green glints weirdly in the light, and a blur—that’s all I see before I realize that the girl I’m hovering over isn’t safe anymore.
“Dammit, Lanie,” I grumble, scooting forward to follow where she duck-walks in a crouch across the ground.
My knees protest at the copied movement, but when she attempts to slip between the trees off the open path, I shove all my prior reservations aside and grasp her arm in a tight grip.
“You can’t go after that,” I say firmly, hauling her to her feet. “You have no idea what it is.”
I have no idea what that thing is, and I’ve lived here for nearly fifteen years.
Not that I pretend to know all the forest’s secrets, but I’ve camped up here in the open for plenty of nights and never seen anything like whatever this thing is. I’m not about to let Lanie wander into the tree line to satisfy her curiosity and disappear on me, Jenkins’s ghost tales be damned.
Her darting gaze never leaves the trees, sweeping the dark places between, seeking what I think I saw but my mind denies.
Nothing moves in the shadows beyond. Could it be the dire wolf, or whatever Jenkins had made up?
Neither of us will likely ever know, and I’m kinda good with keeping it that way for now.
Lanie spins on her heel to face me, red hair flying across her face in a mini tornado-like whirl. Blue fire blazes from her eyes, and it’s the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen.
“It’s gone. Dammit, Cord. I wanted to see it with my own eyes.”
I want to cup her face and crush her mouth beneath mine, but something about the flame in her gaze tells me I’m as likely to earn a slap in the face as I am another mouthful of her quick sass for my efforts right now.
Instead, I stare over her head into the trees. “It’s gone,” I agree. “And if it was a feral dog or an oversized wolf, you have no idea if it’s aggressive or worse.”
Her soft lips, still swollen from our kisses earlier, twitch as she studies my face. Thankfully, she appears to take my concerns seriously, rather than assume I’m placating her. “Were you going to say rabid?”
I shrug and risk gliding an arm about her waist. Hell, I can’t stop touching her. “Maybe? Coulda been a bear.”
But it hadn’t been. The shape was all wrong.
Lanie shakes her head. “No.”
Looks like we’re on the same page.
I blow out a breath. “Anyway, I have a fear of the dark, so let’s get back, huh?” I jerk my head toward the road and take a step away from the trees, hoping she’ll fall in with me.
“You’re so full of shit,” Lanie mutters, catching up as I walk back toward the entrance of the path toward the road and civilization, leaving the mythical beast in the shadowy recesses where it belongs.
A small smile plays across my lips at Lanie’s sassy tongue. “Maybe, maybe not.”
Two steaming mugs of coffee sit between us. Spurs and Stirs Bean House is the only place in Valiant Peak I’d take anyone for coffee, especially a girl like Lanie, and it’s been an age—ha, coffee bean pun not withstanding—since I’ve been on a date.
Jenkins’s shitshow aside, Valiant Peak hosts a decent selection of history and artists, but the local fare often leaves an odd aftertaste that lingers well beyond its use-by date. Luckily, Coyote Falls has its very own chef, though Levi refuses to let anyone call him that.
A flyer for the Valiant Peak Invitational dangles on the wall beside Lanie.
The papers are plastered all over the town, which was the marketing plan, but seeing my own shadow while I’m with her is…
daunting. When I passed the file over for a newspaper release to West, he handed it on to his teenage nephew, who did a magnificent job of graphic design, showering the town—and several neighboring locales as well—with a massive campaign worthy of a commendation.
“Thank you.” Lanie sneaks a peek at me from where she twirls her mug between her palms. “Today has been… beyond my expectations.”
“Even though I didn’t let you hunt your dire wolf in person?” I tease.
The toe of her boot connects with my shin beneath the table. I gape as my eyes water.
“A truly terrible end to a great day.” Her hair flicks in the periphery of what’s left of my senses, followed by her tinkling laugh before she sobers.
“Seriously, diving into the forest wouldn’t have been that smart.
I still want to…” She glances past my picture out the window toward the treed area.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to offer to take her back out there and hunt the damn cryptid-whatever creature down. Hell, I’ve spent the better part of a day with this woman, and I already know I’ll do anything for her.
Before I can offer her anything stupid, Lanie turns her attention back to me, clutching her coffee one-handed.
I rest my fingers over her finer ones, savoring the warmth of her.
Her hand trembles finely at the contact, her bright blue gaze flying up to meet mine.
My stomach clenches on her knee-jerk reaction at the contact, though thankfully she doesn’t pull away.
“Have I fulfilled my duties as tour guide already?” I inhale her sweet cinnamon scent, on the edge of begging for a second date.
“No way. Didn’t you say something about wolves and waterfalls?” Lanie’s eyes brighten.
Wish granted. “Why do I feel that if I don’t provide you with wolves, I’m going to see the side you showed Jenkins earlier?”
She looks down at her coffee, and the swirling resumes. “I’m sorry about that.” Her cheeks burn with a cute rosy stain. I want to kiss it away until she glows for a different reason.
“Lanie. Look at me.” I keep my voice low and soft, rubbing circles on the back of her hand until she flicks her gaze back to me, and then offer a gentle smile.
“You don’t need to be sorry for standing up for what you care about.
That jerk enraged me, too. He’s the asshole.
Not you.” My fingers curl beneath her chin as her gaze sharpens, lancing right through me, leaving me on edge.
Damn, I need this woman in my arms, back at Coyote Falls.
In my bed. But the little I know of her tells me she’ll run if I push her too hard, too fast. I haven’t had to play by anyone else’s rules for a long time—the benefit of my past financial successes haunting me.
Lanie seems to have her own code. If I want her, I have to learn what she needs and put my own cravings aside.
For now.
“I’m not usually outspoken with people I don’t know. Actually, it’s only around Winnie, and maybe you.” She studies me curiously.
“He has con artist written all over him,” I agree, draining the cup.
The corner of her mouth flickers up. “Something like that.”
I press down on the lip of my mug hard enough for the ceramic to creak in protest. “Do you want to see Coyote Falls now?” I ask abruptly, the risk of her pending rejection pushing the words from my throat too fast.
Her eyes rise to meet mine as I preempt her no that will slap me straight in the face and fuck up my week. “Yes.”
I consider leaving Lanie’s car in town, but she’s parked across from Jenkins’s house of horrors and I refuse to give the asshole another reason to discover a vindictive streak. In the end, she follows me back to the Coyote Falls, her tiny car buzzing along behind my truck.
Billy and Tripp rest against the corral opposite the house when we pull in.
A young rider I recognize as Jesse Duke slides off one of the training bulls in spectacular fashion to land in a patch of sawdust. Puffs of dust billow around him as the irate bull kicks about, refusing to head back to the chute.
Billy jumps down beside him to play the rodeo clown, giving the kid enough time to collect his battered ego and get the hell out of the way.