Forever Wild

by Allyson Charles

  She hurried to her room and tossed the backpack on her bed. Then she strode to the connecting door and opened her side. She knocked on Dax’s. “Permission to enter?” she asked when he swung it open.

  The black-and-white Bluetick hurtled past her and explored the new room, sniffing every corner.

  “Watch out for that one especially.” Dax handed her a leash, then snagged another dog as he trotted past and put a leash on his collar, too. “Two at a time is probably the limit with this group.” He peeked inside her room and frowned when his gaze landed on the backpack. “Do you have a safe in here? There isn’t one in my room.”

  “Not in this one either, but it will be fine.” She whistled, and the Bluetick bounded over to her, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

  “Well, I think we should sleep with the connecting door open, just to be safe.”

  Lissa paused at her door, the leashes in her hand. “Safe? Is that how Boy Scouts seduce women?” she teased. “Those that sleep together, stay safe together?”

  A dull flush crept its way from his neck up his face. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. Or one set of the pockets. The cargos had pouches springing out everywhere, from his calves, to his thighs and hips and even around on his cute tush. Not that Lissa had been looking. What all could a man carry to necessitate all those pockets?

  “I just meant I want to be able to get to you quickly. In case someone tries to break in.” He blew out his cheeks with a heavy breath. “That is, if you trust me. I’d understand if you want to keep the door between us locked.”

  A corgi stood up on his hind legs and put his paws on Dax’s knee. He bent over to scratch behind the dog’s ears, the gesture automatic. Sweet.

  Lissa blinked. “I trust you, Dax.” Some people Lissa had a harder time reading, like Morris. She never would have pegged him as a crook. He’d sold her so many bills of goods, she’d lost count. But Dax was an open book. He was one of those rare good guys, of that there was no doubt. He was probably so wholesome he wouldn’t ever consider climbing into her bed at night, even if she handed him an engraved invitation.

  A tiny pit opened in her heart. Why was it that men like him and women like her never suited? Any of her artist friends she’d been attracted to had put themselves and their work first. Which she understood. She was the same after all. But men who were considerate, who were caretakers, ended up trying to stifle her. Someone like Dax wouldn’t be able to tolerate her quirks for long. He’d known her for all of one afternoon and he was already exasperated by her antics.

  That didn’t leave her many dating options. She rubbed her breastbone with the knuckle of her thumb.

  But maybe, if she was going to stick around his Pineville for six weeks, maybe she could be friends with his type. She could show him how to relax and have fun.

  A project. Lissa loved projects. She gave him a wide grin. Before she left for Santa Fe, she’d have Dax swinging from the metaphorical chandeliers. If Pineville had some real ones, she’d try to make it literal, too. “See ya in a bit,” she said and waggled her fingers before slipping out the door.

  The Bluetick strained at his leash, and Lissa trotted to give him his head.

  Dax’s life was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

  Chapter 3

  Dax woke with a warm body curled against his side. He stretched, turning into it, and a tongue corkscrewed into his ear. Jerking backward, he blinked at the hairy face of the Bluetick grinning back at him.

  He dropped his head to the pillow with a sigh. For a moment he’d thought … Well, no matter. Even if Lissa had climbed into his bed, it wasn’t as though he had much to give her right now.

  Dax pressed the heel of his palm into his eye socket and scratched the Coonhound behind the ear with the other. He was exhausted from staying up most of the night trying to do research. And what had he accomplished? One page of scribbled notes on the small notepad the motel provided.

  His meeting today wasn’t going to be pretty.

  He rolled out of bed and stretched. No matter. Even if he didn’t have airtight numbers on a five-year plan going forward, the banker would have to see his idea was a good one. And Dax could be very convincing when he wanted something. He would just have to get Mr. Ted Cooke, head loan officer at Crook County United, excited enough about his idea that he wouldn’t realize Dax’s business plan was anorexic. Maybe take the guy on a tour of his own to show him the potential. He could do that.

  Keeping one eye on the clock, Dax got ready. In order to get home in time to shower and change for his meeting, they’d need to get on their way in an hour or so. He knocked on the connecting door to Lissa’s room and started leashing up the dogs. Maybe they could each take half and make the morning walks go more quickly.

  The dogs swirled around his legs as he knocked again. “Lissa? You awake yet?” After taking all the dogs out last night, she had said her feet were too sore to go dancing. Judging by the time her TV went off, she’d gone to bed fairly early. She shouldn’t be too tired.

  “Lissa?” He pressed his ear against the door but only heard the sound of the dogs huffing and yipping next to him. He opened the door and poked his head through. “Lissa?”

  The curtain was open, showing rumpled sheets on an empty bed. The bathroom was dark, empty.

  “Huh.”

  The Bluetick darted past him and trotted around her room, the attached leash trailing behind him. He sniffed out every corner. When he’d made the circuit, he looked up at Dax and cocked his head, his ears raised into questioning points.

  “I don’t know,” Dax told him. “Maybe she’s out getting breakfast.” He checked his watch, adjusting the canvas band. “Well, hopefully when we get back she’ll be here.” He gathered up the leashes and forged out with all eight dogs barking and jockeying for position.

  When he returned, after only tripping over the dogs twice, Lissa still wasn’t back.

  “Damn it.” He checked his watch again. His meeting was in seven hours and it was a six-hour drive. His stomach slid uneasily. He fed the dogs and loaded them into the van, hoping she would get back by the time he finished. Not that he owed her the ride. She was a stowaway. He could leave whenever he wanted. He rubbed his chest. But it didn’t feel right just ditching her.

  He went to her room again, looking for clues. A slew of tourist brochures were spread out on the desk. He fingered through them and picked up the one that had been separated from the stack. He frowned at the glossy postcard.

  Graceland. The address was circled in ink. Christ, he had a life-altering meeting to get to and Lissa was getting her Elvis on. He tapped the brochure against his jeans. She couldn’t really expect him to wait for her. No one would blame him if he left. The dogs were his responsibility, not some crazy artist running away from New Orleans.

  One with a backpack full of cash she was too naive not to flash around.

  He debated his options and grabbed his keys. He was definitely going to head home. He couldn’t miss this meeting. Climbing into the van, he stuck the key in the ignition and cranked it to life. The entrance to the highway was only a couple of blocks down the road. He could be on his way in minutes.

  He tensed his fingers around the steering wheel, but his hands refused to turn left to the highway on-ramp. The back of his neck flushed hot, and Dax swore. Plugging the address for Graceland into his phone, he turned right on the street and drove as fast as he could toward his annoying little stowaway without jostling the dogs in back.

  It was a cool morning, but he still circled the large parking lot of Graceland looking for a spot under some shade. He slid open all the back windows and made sure the dogs had water before buying a ticket and entering the mecca for thousands of sequin-clad Americans.

  Heading for the welcome desk, he found a map of the building and determined the best search pattern. He jogged through t
he rooms, avoiding tour groups and wannabe impersonators. Finally, he found her in a gallery, her backpack slung over one shoulder and a gift bag in her hand, staring up at a multimedia picture of the King in a furry white suit.

  “There you are!” Dax jerked to a halt as two octogenarians in gold lamé jumpsuits toddled in front of him.

  Lissa turned, a smile lighting up her face. She was a beautiful woman no doubt, but when she smiled, beautiful didn’t even come close. The curve of her lips matched the way the corners of her eyes crinkled and arched up. She looked radiant. Illuminated from within.

  His breath rushed out of him like he’d been punched to the gut. His heart thudded. Was that smile for him? A man could get used to having that directed at him every day. He could—

  She walked up to the grandmas and fingered a sequined scarf knotted around one of the woman’s throats. “Great outfits,” Lissa said.

  The blue hair cocked a bony hip and said, “Thank you. Thank you very much,” in a deep baritone.

  Lissa laughed and waved goodbye before bounding up to Dax. “You found me! Isn’t this place great?”

  “No, it’s tacky and my own personal version of hell.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He was an idiot. Of course that smile wasn’t for him. They barely knew each other. “Can we go now?”

  “You’re awfully grumpy this morning. Well, grumpier than yesterday.” Lissa narrowed her eyes. “Did that motel burn the biscuits? I told the manager the biscuits and gravy were overcooked. But it was a free meal, so what can you do?” She shrugged.

  “I haven’t eaten breakfast.” His stomach chose that moment to make itself heard. Biscuits and gravy, even overcooked, sounded pretty good.

  “Well, there’s the problem. No wonder you’re grumpy.”

  “I’m not—” Closing his eyes, Dax pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Is there any place around here I can grab something quick?”

  Lissa threaded her arm through his and started walking. “Is there a place to eat?” she scoffed and shook her head. “How does a peanut butter and banana sandwich sound to you?”

  “Slightly odd, but I guess the elements are right for a solid breakfast.” He let her lead him into a small café with some grab-and-go options. She picked out a sandwich and juice for each of them and strolled to the cashier.

  She waved him away when he drew out his wallet. “This is on me. After you let me hitch a ride, you should have let me pay for your motel room, too.”

  “Forever Friends is paying for my motel.” Not that he’d let her pay for him anyway. He might be a twenty-first-century man in a lot of ways, but he still didn’t let women pay for him. His dad would kick his ass if he did. Dax’s throat went thick thinking of his father. He pulled a bill from his wallet.

  “Seriously.” Lissa placed a hand on her hip. “It’s a sandwich. I’m paying.” She handed the cashier some money and shoved the change in her back pocket. Her paisley top, the same one she’d worn yesterday, caught in the waistband of her jeans and revealed a triangle of smooth-looking skin.

  Dax jerked his gaze upward.

  After she grabbed their tray, Dax snuck his bill in the glass tip jar next to the cashier and trotted after her. He glanced at his watch and his shoulders sagged. Well, that was that. He was going to have to apologize for missing the meeting and ask for another. People had to reschedule appointments all the time, he knew. But it didn’t look great when he needed to appear responsible. If the loan officer was already on the fence about giving him money …

  Lissa arranged his plate and juice, pulled a napkin from the dispenser on their table, and laid it next to his plate. She flashed him a warm smile as he sat across from her, and some of his tension eased. It had been the right call, not ditching her in Memphis. Lissa was sweet and needed looking after. At least until she could bank her money.

  “So what else do you want to see in Memphis?” Lissa unscrewed her bottle of orange juice and watched him as she took a swallow. A stray bead of juice clung to her bottom lip and she flicked out her tongue to swipe it up.

  Dax stared at his sandwich. He picked it up and tore out a bite. No ogling the crazy artist. After swallowing, he said, “I didn’t want to see this in the first place. But I couldn’t just leave you. You should have left a note.”

  “You found me anyway.” She tilted her head. “You’re not a fan of the King?”

  “I grew up on grunge. I don’t even think my parents listened to Elvis.”

  Her face screwed up in an adorable expression of disgust. “Grunge?” she tsked. “I can see I was placed in your life for a reason, Dax Cannon. On the rest of this trip, I’ll take control of the radio. When do we have to get back on the road again?”

  “Two hours ago.”

  A tiny divot creased her forehead. “What?”

  He sighed and tossed a bit of crust onto the plate. “Nothing. I had a meeting at four this afternoon, but I’ll have to reschedule it. So, I guess we’re not in a time crunch.”

  She reached over the table and grabbed his wrist. She twisted it and her head to check the time. “What are we doing sitting around here? Come on.” Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her bags and his arm. She tugged at him. “Let’s jet.”

  He stumbled after her. “It’s okay. There’s no way we’ll make it to Pineville in time.”

  “We will if we drive hell for leather.”

  They hit the huge parking lot. It was probably half a mile just to the van. “Look, it’s nice of you to want me to make my meeting, but we have to face facts. It’s a long drive to Pineville. There just isn’t time.”

  She tossed her long curls over her shoulder and gave him the side-eye. “O ye of little faith. Give me the keys and I promise you we’ll make it with minutes to spare.”

  * * * *

  “We’re not going to make it.” Dax’s defeatist attitude had been bringing Lissa to ever-more-frequent eye rolls, but this time, she feared he might be right.

  She checked the dashboard clock. Even if Dax defied every traffic law known to man, it wouldn’t matter. They’d have to defy the laws of physics to get to Michigan in time.

  “If you’d let me drive—”

  “I told you, I can’t.” Dax gripped the steering wheel. “You’re not an authorized driver for Forever Friends.”

  “Well, if you’d gone more than five miles over the speed limit, we might have had a chance.” Really, the man was more conservative than her fifth-grade teacher, and that had been the one year she’d been enrolled in Catholic school with a ruler-wielding nun at the head of the class.

  “If it was just you and me, maybe I would have driven a bit faster.” He jerked a thumb toward the back of the van. “But I don’t want the dogs getting tossed around like a load of laundry.”

  Lissa sighed. Why did everything he said have to sound so reasonable? It was really hard to hold his stick-in-the-mud attitude against him when he was acting to protect the animals. Still, no reason to let him stay in his mud pit. “Well, since we’re no longer driving under a ticking clock, how about we have a little fun? This website I was looking at shows the roadside attractions on our way.”

  “I’m really not in the mood to look at a big ball of yarn.”

  “Okay.” She opened her phone. “I think we can do better than that. Besides, the dogs need to stretch their legs, right?”

  Dax’s shoulders unclenched a notch. They lowered from right below his ears to only halfway tensed. “Yeah. And I need to text Mr. Cooke to tell him I won’t make the meeting. Better to do that sooner rather than later.”

  “And because you’ll have fun,” she cajoled. “There’s the world’s largest bottle of ketchup?” She looked at his raised eyebrow and then checked for more options. “Okay, how about the Museum of Initiation Pranks? Or the world’s largest knitting needles? That would be a good match
for the giant ball of yarn.”

  He pursed his lips, considering.

  They were sinful lips on a man. Lissa’s artist brain cataloged his features. The bottom one was full, with a small cleft running down the middle that begged for a tongue to trace. The upper one was a bit thinner, making him look strong, decisive. Even though the most boring words seem to pour out of them, if Lissa let her mind drift and just watched those lips as they moved, she could imagine all sorts of sexy things coming from that mouth.

  “Initiation pranks sounds promising,” he said, drawing her from her fantasy, “but I don’t want to leave the dogs in the van while we wander around a museum. And unless I can climb those knitting needles, no, thanks.”

  She dragged her gaze from his mouth and scrolled down the screen on her phone. “Okay, how about …. oh!” She clutched his arm. “A replica of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Though how anyone can claim to make a replica of an ancient wonder of the world when no one knows how it actually looked is beyond me. But the pictures of the garden look gorgeous!” She held her phone up for him to see.

  He spared it a quick glance before focusing back on the road. “If you say so. A garden sounds like a good spot for the dogs to take a break.”

  She pulled up the directions. “It’s about forty-five minutes away. Let’s stop for some food first. I’d love to eat lunch in the garden.”

  They stopped at a deli, and by the time they pulled up at the garden, Lissa’s stomach was growling, and a dog in the back was barking nonstop.

  Dax sighed as he put the van in park. “That Bluetick is a whiner.”

  “No one likes to be cooped up.” Lissa hopped out of the van and shut the door. She hiked her backpack up higher on her shoulder and bounced on her toes. The garden was hidden by an eight-foot stone wall. Tendrils of ivy and honeysuckle draped over the rough-hewn limestone blocks. A gatehouse stood at a narrow opening in the wall. It looked like the front steps of a fairy castle, and Lissa’s fingers itched to sketch it.

  “Let’s get the dogs walked and fed.” She met Dax at the back doors. “I can’t wait to go inside the garden.” Her stomach gurgled and her cheeks flushed hot.