Page 19 of Midlife Animal Rescuer Wolf

He wasn’t sure how long he remained on the floor, but a sudden banging on the door jerked him back to reality. With a sigh, he rose and moved over to the door, pulling it open.

“Rhoda, I told you already that if you—” His words died on his lips.

It wasn’t Rhoda who stood on his doorstep this time. It was Harold. Bryon’s friend of eight years stood barely a foot away, glowering at him. Over his shoulder, Bryon could make out about a dozen other men standing at the foot of the porch steps, each of them brandishing a stick or machete.

Bryon looked down. In Harold’s hand was a baseball bat.

“Harold, what the hell is going on?” he demanded.

The other man simply glanced over his shoulder. His green eyes widened at the sight of the half-empty living room. “Going somewhere? Saw your furniture in the back of your truck. You’re not planning on skipping town, are you?”

Bryon said nothing, merely swallowing. Harold’s expression hardened.

“So you are planning on leaving. Well, I’ve got news for you, old bud.” He lifted the baseball bat. “You’re not going anywhere.”

***

With some difficulty, Bryon forced the memory from his mind. Almost ten years had passed since the incident, yet the pain was as fresh as though it had happened just last night. Better to focus on something else, like the foal that needed rescuing.

Or the fact that he and Rhoda—no, Miranda—were still in Paradise Woods.

He stared ahead as they walked. The path zigzagged, rocks and roots jutting from the earth. He was pretty sure he’d walked this path at least a few times, as well as every other inch of these woods. Only difference was he hadn’t been injured back then. Then, it had been only a brief stroll or jog.

Right now, with his smarting foot, he felt like he was making his way through a mine field. Thank goodness for Miranda, or his navigation skills would’ve been useless in getting out of here.

“I hate this,” he muttered. “Damn piece of glass.”

She squeezed his arm, and Bryon felt a slight tug in his gut. “You just need to get your foot checked out.”

That didn’t do much to lift his spirits. While they were in the woods, until he saw to his injury, he remained at a disadvantage.

“I can’t believe I stepped on it,” he said. He glanced sideways at her. “This doesn’t usually happen.”

A look of pure amusement lit up her features. “What is it with men and that phrase?”

It took Bryon a couple of seconds to realize what she meant. Resisting an eye roll, he said, “I just wish I hadn’t stepped on it. This injury is slowing us down.”

Not that it was the only thing that had slowed them down so far, he thought, remembering the look on her face in the moments before he kissed her. He’d ignored all caution and had gotten lost in the warmth of her skin on his, her lovely scent, the softness of her body as she ground herself against his cock. And he’d loved every second of it. If not for his injury, they might still be by that tree, lying in each other’s embrace in the aftermath of a fiery passion.

Fortunately for the pair of them, they’d broken apart just in time. Still, it was hard to get rid of the memory. All he had to do was close his eyes to see Miranda grinding against his fingers, moaning as he brought her closer to orgasm. And she’d been just as eager to pleasure him. If they hadn’t stopped when they had, he’d have ended up buried deep in her, fighting his own release.

As if in agreement, he felt a twitch in his groin. He looked down, grimacing at the tent forming in the front of the bathrobe.

Great.

“Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.” Miranda’s voice snapped him back to attention.

He blinked at her. “What?”

“The injury,” came her reply. “I’m starting to think it was fate that you stepped on the glass. I mean, if you hadn’t gotten injured, I might never have found you, which means I’d still be lost in these woods, or worse.” She gave a tiny shudder.

“Fair point.” He nodded, wondering just how alone and terrified she must have felt before she stumbled upon him. Being hunted by someone else for whatever reason was all kinds of unsettling. “Maybe it was fate.”

Everything that had happened so far had happened because he’d been injured. Even the kiss they’d shared and all that had followed it. A light stirring filled his groin.

He almost scoffed, pulling the robe tighter around his erection so it didn’t accidentally spring free. They were deep in the woods, Bryon was injured, and Miranda was likely being hunted by a stalker ex-boyfriend. Yet somehow, he had the presence of mind to get aroused at the thought of the woman next to him.

And that wasn’t even the worst part. Miranda had seen him shift, just like Harold had all those years ago. Sure, she was attractive, but getting intimate with her should be the last thing on his mind right now. Shouldn’t he be more concerned about what might happen once they got out of here?