Sweet Wild of Mine

by Laurel Kerr

  “You must have witnessed a lot of births growing up on a farm.”

  “Aye, but it never stops being m-miraculous,” Magnus said.

  June shifted. Although she still kept her body pressed close to his, she tilted her head to gaze at him. A smile drifted across her lips. Slow. Sweet. Tempting.

  A huge sigh from Lulubelle broke the spell the lass was weaving. Magnus turned with June to watch the camel settle down with her calf. Within minutes, the pair drifted off to sleep. June yawned and pushed herself upright. “I’d better head out now. Nan will be wondering where I am. She’s having a good day, but I don’t want her getting scared.”

  Magnus nodded. “All right, lass.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Aye, see you in the m-m-morn.”

  Magnus followed June with his eyes until she disappeared from sight. Although it wasn’t too baltic tonight, his body instantly missed her warmth. Aw, baws. Truth be told, he craved her presence. And Magnus didn’t like that. He didn’t want to feel this incessant need for another.

  And it wasn’t just sexual. It went deeper than that.

  He’d lived his whole life independently. He dreaded ending up like his da, a permanently beelin’ arse because a hen left him. But June? June made him want. Made him long. Made him feel things he didn’t wish to.

  Magnus knew he should stay away from the lass. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t just that she kept popping up everywhere like a mole in a vegetable patch. He didn’t want to avoid June anymore. Which wasn’t like him. At all.

  Aye, his head was full of mince, and it was all the lass’s fault.

  * * *

  The next morning, June woke in a good mood. Unlike many people, she didn’t mind rising early. She supposed it was left over from childhood. Her father hadn’t believed in sleeping in…or in letting the rest of the family do it either. June’s mama always claimed the military was bred into him, and they should be grateful he didn’t insist on playing the reveille each morning. Even as a teenager, June hadn’t minded, not like her brother, August. She enjoyed waking before dawn and feeling a sense of satisfaction at what she could accomplish while most people lay abed. And, even as extroverted as she was, there was something magical about the quiet before the sun broke over the horizon.

  Humming to herself, June bustled about the kitchen. She breathed the scent of yeast as she placed dough in the mixer. Sometimes, she’d knead by hand, but she rarely had time anymore. Her mama had taught her to cook, but it had been Nan who’d shown June how to bake. She used to spend her summers in this kitchen while she learned what it took to operate a tea shop. She’d found her place here, in this very room. While other kids dreamed of fancy careers, she’d always known she’d take over Nan’s business, not that her grandparents had ever pushed her. No, it had always been June’s own dream. Growing up rootless, she’d wanted a place to call home, and this was it. Plain and simple.

  June had just finished putting the baked goods in the display cabinet when the door chimed. Stanley Harris and Buck Montgomery walked in already bickering. June hid her smile as she pretended to buff out a smudge on the display case. She could set her clock by those two men. And that’s why she loved small towns—the familiar rhythms that kept the heart of the community beating.

  By the time the men reached the counter, June was already getting their standard order ready. The old cowboys never changed. Stanley liked egg, cheese, and ham on a bagel with black coffee, and Buck liked her version of a Scottish breakfast and took his coffee with two sugars and a helping of cream. Neither drank tea.

  The men only paused their argument long enough to greet June. Then they were back debating the best ointment to use on a hoof infection. June shook her head fondly as she finished their orders. No sooner had she set their plates in front of them than Lacey Montgomery walked in. She wore her park ranger’s uniform, her chestnut-brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She greeted Stanley and her grandfather, Buck, before heading to the counter.

  “What would you like?” June asked.

  “The clotted-cream crepe and a coffee to go,” Lacey said. “Oh, you know what, add a sausage to it.”

  “Big day?”

  Lacey nodded, her ponytail bobbing. She wasn’t a very tall woman, but the energy she exuded more than made up for her lack of height. “It’s the start of my wolf survey.”

  “How’s the reintroduction going?”

  Lacey beamed. “Great! I’m hoping we get a lot of wolf pups this spring. It’s mating season now, so part of my study is to see how their normal patterns of movement change.”

  “Are you still having trouble with Clay Stevens?” June asked. Unlike in some communities, most of the ranchers near Sagebrush Flats had embraced the reintroduction of wolves to Rocky Ridge National Park. And their acceptance had everything to do with the woman standing in front of June. Since her mama ran the Prairie Dog Café, the whole town had watched Lacey Montgomery grow up. According to town tradition, she’d had been talking to anybody and everybody about how the park needed wolves ever since she did a project on Canis lupus in first grade. When Lacey’s parents had lost big in an investment scheme and her papa had a heart attack, the whole town had pitched in to help send her to college to become an ecologist. But there was one man who didn’t approve of the wolf pack…or Lacey, not that anyone listened to his bellyaching. Even though Clay Stevens’s maternal line had owned a huge spread to the north of town since pioneer days, he was still a no-good city slicker.

  Lacey rolled her eyes. “Clay’s trying to organize another protest at the next town-hall meeting. The last one fizzled, but he keeps trying. He insists on calling the pack Lacey’s Wolves. It’s starting to feel personal. You’d think it was my father who scammed the entire town, not his. I swear if anyone is a big, bad wolf, it’s him.”

  June laughed. “Good way of putting it.”

  “So how about you?” Lacey asked. “I hear you have your own bad-tempered male to deal with.” At her question, both her grandfather and Stanley perked up. The older men turned in their seats, not even bothering to hide their interest.

  At the mention of Magnus, a sweet warmth crept through June. She thought of his combination of strength and tenderness last night when he saved Lulubelle and Savannah, and of the way he’d held her afterward. It had been good standing there, feeling Magnus’s body against hers as they watched Lulubelle nestle her new baby. Despite the quietness of the moment, it had been powerful. Something had stolen inside June and hadn’t left.

  “Magnus Gray’s not so bad,” she said.

  Buck snorted. “He’s like a grizzly with a sore tooth.”

  “He was just having a bad day, that’s all,” June countered.

  “Folks are saying he’s stormed away from you twice,” Stanley said. “Me and Buck here saw it once with our own eyes.”

  June shook her head. “You’re making too much of it.”

  Buck snorted. “Something must be wrong with him, treating a pretty girl like that. Men of my generation, we know a thing or two about how to act around a lady.”

  “That you do.” June smiled at Buck. His weathered face lit up.

  Lacey rolled her eyes again. “Grandpa, stop flirting with June, or I’ll never get my breakfast.”

  “She’s flirting with me!” Buck protested, but both he and Stanley returned to their own conversation. They’d moved on to a perennial favorite—debating the best way to rope a steer. June quickly finished Lacey’s order. Another customer came in and then another. It wasn’t until over an hour later that June had time to glance down at her watch. When she saw the time, worry niggled. Nan should have come by now. It wasn’t like her to be this late.

  June poked her head in the kitchen and told her assistant that she had to run over to her grandmother’s for a second. She dashed out the back door of the tea shop and hurried up the steps to the
wraparound porch surrounding Nan’s home. Silence greeted her when she unlocked the door and poked her head inside. Panic clawed at June. Trying to stay calm, she bolted up the stairs, not caring that she sounded like a stampeding buffalo.

  When she reached the top, she heard a low groan coming from her grandma’s bedroom. Talons of ice stabbed into June’s heart as she yanked open the door. Her grandmother lay in bed, her mouth agape as she stared at the ceiling. When June drew close, the woman turned her head, her eyes glassy with fear and confusion. The horror in them deepened into pure terror. “The devil is coming. He’s going to drag me to hell. The rats are already here.”

  Chapter 9

  June typically excelled in a crisis. Life as a military brat had taught both organization and control. Her father had been deployed to war zones, and so had her brother. She’d grown up learning how to internalize fear and make it productive. When things went topsy-turvy, she stayed calm and logical by focusing on what needed to be done.

  But this time. This time, her brain didn’t cooperate.

  At all.

  June tried to reach for Nan, but the woman shrank back, shrieking in utter terror. “You’re going to kill me! You’re here to kill me.”

  “No, Nan,” June said, trying to center the turmoil spinning madly inside her. “It’s me, June. I’m here to help.”

  “No, you’re not,” Nan said, her voice high and wobbly. It was simultaneously a child’s and an old woman’s. “You look like June, but you’re not. You’re here to murder me!”

  June’s heart shattered. To her horror, tears threatened to fall. She took a breath. Tried to think. But nothing had prepared her for this.

  She reached for her phone. Her family lived scattered around the world. They couldn’t help. Not immediately.

  June started to dial Katie’s number, but she stopped. She’d retained enough reason to know she didn’t want to drag Katie into this right now. She would insist on accompanying June to the hospital, and June wasn’t about to bring her pregnant friend there. Plus, Katie’s morning sickness was awful right now, and June doubted she could handle the car ride.

  Although June had plenty of other friends in Sagebrush, her index finger swiped past those numbers. Instead, she pressed on the name most recently added. Magnus Gray.

  * * *

  Magnus stood watching Lulubelle and Savannah when his mobile rang. To his surprise, as soon as he saw June’s name, a smile drifted over his face. True, he’d just been thinking about the lass, but he wasn’t prepared for the jolt of pleasure.

  “Hullo,” he said.

  “M-Magnus?”

  At the fear in June’s voice, he gripped the phone. “What’s wrong, lass?”

  “It’s Nan,” June said. “She’s…she’s not right. I think I need to t-t-take her to the hospital.”

  Magnus stepped back from the stall and headed in the direction of the Victorian. “I’ll be right there, lass. Do you want me to bring Katie?”

  He heard June swallow hard. Although she said she no longer had a stutter, her concern seemed to have caused it to resurface.

  “N-No,” June said. “Katie’s morning sickness is so bad right now, and I don’t want her babies exposed to hospital germs.”

  “Do you want me to drive you?”

  “Yes. Yes, p-p-please. The ambulance will take too long.”

  “I need to t-t-t-tell Bowie that I’m leaving. You live above the tea shop, aye?”

  Magnus heard a watery sniff on the other end of the line. When June spoke, she sounded a wee bit more collected, but her voice still shook. “Nana’s in the building behind. We’re in her bedroom. The back door’s unlocked.”

  “D-d-don’t fash yourself,” Magnus told her. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  * * *

  Danger. Honey could smell it. Normally, she thrived on the scent. Her pedestrian life—first as a pet and now as a zoo resident—had allowed for little peril.

  But this was not the same as attacking a cobra or a lion.

  This was not exciting.

  She had not liked the look on the Giant One’s face when he’d rushed past their exhibit twice. He had looked grim. Angry humans were amusing. Sad ones were not.

  Beside her, Fluffy chittered softly. He too had picked up on the sudden tension swirling through the air like smoke before a deadly wildfire.

  Honey glanced his way. Perhaps Fluffy had more true honey badger in him than she had suspected. Honey didn’t know why, but she found herself sidling in his direction. He glanced at her, his black eyes steadily watching hers. Then he shifted…as if making room for her. Their kind did not cuddle. Ever. Yet, somehow, Honey found herself pressed against the male. But they weren’t snuggling. Certainly not. That was only something silly herd animals and humans did.

  * * *

  As soon as Magnus opened the back door to Clara Winters’s house, he heard the older woman scream. Worried, he dashed up the stairs. When he burst into the room, she shrieked even louder.

  “He’s here. The devil is here!”

  “It’s just Magnus, Nan,” June said. “You know, Magnus. He writes those stories you like so much. The one about Tammay and the other about the polar bears.”

  June reached for her grandmother’s hand, but the older woman snatched it back. She curled toward the wall, watching June with the eyes of a hunted, wounded animal. June’s face crumpled. Magnus’s heart clenched as he saw the normally bright lass fighting to hide her tears. He wished like hell he’d been able to bring Katie along. He was never one for emotions, and the air was heavy with them. But June had called him, and she needed his help. So, Magnus drew in his breath and cautiously made his way to the bedside.

  Not for the first time, he cursed his bulk. He was built to intimidate, not to cajole. No wonder Clara thought him Auld Clootie.

  June glanced in his direction. She bit her bottom lip so hard it turned white. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “She thinks I’m the devil too.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  June’s grandmother made a keening sound that reminded Magnus of an injured lamb. Although he had little experience with soothing humans, he had plenty at settling animals. Without thinking, he began to sing softly. He picked an old tune, “My Love’s in Germany,” one June’s nan might recognize. It was a quiet song about a young lass waiting for her lover to return from war. Although it was originally written about Scottish mercenaries long before the nineteen forties, he imagined it had been sung during the war at the Selkie’s Strand.

  Clara Winters uncurled slightly. “I remember that one. Dot and Peg used to sing it.”

  Magnus switched into another. He’d never had trouble with stuttering when singing, not that he did it much in public. He’d gotten blootered a couple of times during his roughneck days and belted out a few ditties, much to the delight of his coworkers. Growing up, he used to croon to the animals, especially when one was sick or hurt. It had passed the time, especially during the short winter days when he’d felt trapped by the low light and howling wind.

  As Magnus crooned to June’s nan, he didn’t feel as self-conscious as he would’ve thought. He was too focused on calming her. He could feel June’s gaze, steady and warm. Magnus didn’t turn in her direction for fear of disturbing her grandmother. Clara’s breathing, although still shallow and erratic, became less frenetic. The woman’s eyes drifted shut, and sleep finally claimed her.

  “Something’s not right, and I don’t mean just the devil bit,” June said, her voice watery. Magnus glanced at the lass and saw she still fought to hold back her tears. Unaccustomed to giving comfort, he awkwardly slung his arm around her slim shoulders. Her body curled into his as she stared down at her nan. Magnus followed her gaze. The older woman’s jaw had gone slack in sleep. “She shouldn’t have fallen asleep that quickly…not after being so frightened.”
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  Magnus nodded. “Aye.”

  “Do you think you could carry her to my SUV?”

  “Aye, lass. She’s naught but a twig.”

  Magnus carefully lifted Clara and prayed the elderly woman stayed asleep. Despite his assurances to June, the steps were narrow and twisted in the middle. Even with her slight weight, if Clara fought him, it would make the process difficult and dangerous. Although she stirred, she was too puggled to fully wake. Her dazed eyes fluttered closed again as Magnus carefully navigated the steps.

  June led him to her SUV parked in a garage between her nan’s house and the tea shop. He gently placed Clara in the back seat, and June immediately busied herself with making her nan comfortable with the items she’d grabbed from the woman’s bedroom. Magnus didn’t offer to help. He figured fussing gave June something to do, something to focus on. Patiently, he waited as she placed a pillow behind her grandmother’s head and tucked a quilt around her. When June was satisfied, she handed him the keys, and the two of them silently climbed into the vehicle.

  As he pulled onto the main street and headed east, June pulled out her mobile. She glanced over at him. “Would you mind if I made some calls? I need to let my family know.”

  “Do whatever you need to do, lass.”

  Magnus focused his attention on the road to give June her privacy. Although her voice sounded strained, she kept it remarkably steady as she spoke with her parents. When she finished sending an email to her brother, she made a forlorn sound, halfway between a sigh and a sob. Magnus’s heart twisted.

  “My parents will be here as quickly as they can, but there’s no direct flight, so it’ll take time. My brother’s deployed so he definitely can’t make it. I don’t even know when he’ll read my message,” June told him, her voice wobbly.

  Magnus nodded. Silence fell, and he heard another watery sigh from June. He reached for the radio, desperate to distract her. It was a long drive to the hospital.

  “What music do you like, hen?”

  “Anything.” The word came out as soggy as undercooked bread pudding. Magnus quickly flicked to the station with the strongest signal. It was American country, not his favorite, but it was music. He glanced over at June. She’d curled her body toward the window, and the sunlight illuminated the tracks of silent tears on her cheeks. An ache spread inside Magnus like lichens growing over the cliffs. Without thinking, he reached over and laid his massive hand over June’s delicate one. She instantly turned her palm to rest against his as she laced their fingers together. He squeezed but didn’t let go.