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I’ve never felt anything like this before.
Blueish-black smoke floats upward from the tip of the cigar to curl around his head. A puff makes the tip of the cigar glow. He even blows honest to goodness smoke rings. And what’s that in his hand?
I lean forward, eyes pinching, and catch the unmistakable title of the book. A Wuthering Heights fan?
No way.
I label him a fan without feeling guilty about it because the edges of the leather-bound cover are worn and the pages curl as if it has been lovingly handled many wonderful times.
I look into his twinkling eyes, such a contrast to Drake’s black pools of mystery and pain. Jade-colored gems round with mirth as Bert puffs on his cigar.
"Well, Miss Abby," he says, “sounds like you've had a frightful night."
"Yes, sir.” I don’t know why I’m so formal. “It began with a moose."
"Began? Now this sounds like a story.” He cocks his head to the side. "What does it end with?"
Now that’s a question I don’t have an answer to, considering my evening seems to be a work in progress.
"Wolves.” Drake answers for me. “That pack that’s been harrying your llamas decided to try their hand taking down a human. I tell you; the wolves are getting bolder as the seasons turn.” Drake’s muscles bunch beneath his snow-colored camouflage. I imagine tight corded muscle girding his frame, the perfect complement to his threatening scowl.
Unlike Bert, who’s welcoming and kind, Drake’s standoffish and threatening with his hardened scowl. Once again, I swallow the fear bunching in my throat. Drake terrifies me as much as he draws me to him.
Everything about him screams Stay Away! Yet, all I can think about is what it might feel like if I closed the distance between us.
Bert pops the cigar out of his mouth. "You found them?”
"Found and killed.” Drake swings his rifle over his shoulder and puffs out his chest. “Five down. Had to leave the bodies on the side of the road, though. I should go back for them. Heard another pack on the way back. Would’ve gone after them except for her.”
Bert shoves the fat cigar back into his mouth and draws in a breath. The tip of the cigar flares. “Don’t bother. It’s late. I’ll call Charlie and let him know. We’ll grab the wolves in the morning, send the pelts to Fish and Game, and Charlie can go after the other pack.”
Drake jerks his thumb toward me. “Her Jeep is in a ditch somewhere a few miles outside of town.”
“Ah, gotcha,” Bert says. “I’ll give Henry a call to bring his rig.”
“Yeah, in the morning,” Drake says.
The men exchange a look I can’t decipher, but then Drake’s words sink in.
“Morning!" I look between the two men. "I thought we'd be able to get it out tonight."
“Nobody’s going out tonight,” Drake says. “This storm’s only supposed to get worse. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”
“Where am I going to stay?”
"She's not from around here, is she?" Bert twists the cigar in his mouth.
"Not even close." Drake surprises me with a grin. Much better than the scowl, the soft smile makes him even more handsome. His towering frame no longer feels threatening.
Instead, it’s comforting.
Amazing how a simple smile transforms my rescuer.
Bert wraps an arm around my shoulder and tugs me toward the door. "Come, child, let's get you out of this weather. I've got a nice fire going and leftover stew. You look like you could use something to eat, something to drink, and some dry clothes.” He glances toward Drake and the two men share another unreadable expression.
At the mention of food, my stomach rumbles. In my haste to get to Peace Springs, I skipped dinner, thinking my uncle would have something laying around. Little did I know I would nearly run down a moose and become wolf bait.
"That would be very nice, but please don't go to too much trouble."
