by Ruby Dixon
Leo shakes his head and sits in one of the pink, girly seats in my waiting room. He picks up a women’s magazine and his brow wrinkles as he gazes at the pictures. “Nah,” he says, not looking up from the mag. “You just hit a nerve with that Pat stuff.”
“What’s wrong with Pat?”
“Pat’s a dumbass.”
Really? We were back to this again? “Pat Samson is a very nice man. He told me he saved a spot on his next camping trip just for me.”
“I’ll bet he did,” Leo mutters.
I pull out a tray of nail polishes and begin checking the bottles for dried-up paint. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothin’,” Leo drawls, and flips the magazine sideways, then tosses it aside. “He just don’t like the thought of you camping with Pat.”
“Pat offered!”
“And Cole doesn’t like that.”
Exasperated, I slam a bottle of gunmetal gray down harder than I should. “Oh, good lord. Why doesn’t the man just pee on my leg and mark me as his territory?”
“That’s a wolf thing, not a bear.”
I tilt my head at him. “Huh?”
Leo waves a hand. “Nothin’.” He leaps back out of the chair, sending it skidding backward. “Anyhow. I came here to ask if you wanted me to put together those supplies for you since Cole’s being a jackass.”
“Oh. That’d be sweet. Thank you, Leo.” I beam at him. “I have the list right…um…” I bend over and grab the crumpled wad out of the trashcan, and then do my best to smooth the paper before handing it over. My cheeks feel hot.
Leo just shakes his head and chuckles. “All righty. I’ll see what I can round up and I’ll text you later with the total. You can swing by and pay for things after hours.”
“That’d be wonderful. Thank you so much, Leo. Truly. You’re a good friend.”
He studies the list, and then that coy grin moves over his face again. “You don’t have condoms on this list.”
“I…I beg your pardon?”
“Condoms.” He taps the paper. “You want me to pack some for you?”
A nervous laugh escapes my throat. “Why would I need that?”
He shrugs. “No reason. I’ll get this started for you. Later, Adelaide.”
“Bye.”
I watch him leave, curious. Does he really think I’m going to hook up with someone on Pat’s camping trip? It’s absurd. The only person I want to hook up with is Cole…who hates me.
I sigh. I must really have it bad. Maybe a few days in the woods will do me a lot of good.
•••
“Here’s a robe for you,” I say to Mrs. Wesson as I lead her back to room two. “I’ll give you a few minutes to change and pick out a scent for your massage oils, and then I’ll be in shortly.” I smile at her encouragingly.
“Do you have lavender?” she asks in a feeble voice. Mrs. Wesson is ninety if she’s a day. She’s been here every Monday this month, and she always asks for lavender.
“Of course I do.” I let her into the room and shut the door behind her just as the front door chimes. Frowning, I flip the ‘occupied’ sign on room two, and then head back toward the front waiting area. I don’t have anyone else lined up this afternoon and I never take walk-ins.
I’m more than a little surprised to see Pat Samson standing in my spa, peering over my Zen water fountain. He’s got his camo trucker cap in his hand and is squeezing the bill repeatedly.
“Hi, Pat. What brings you here?” I keep my voice pleasant, though I’ve got a funny knot in my stomach at the sight of him.
It can’t be coincidence that Cole tells me he doesn’t want me to go camping with Pat, and then Pat shows up several hours later. That’s a little too neat, if you ask me.
Pat nods at me. “Just wanted to come and see if you had any questions about the trip this weekend? Weather’s a go so far.”
I relax a little. He’s just being friendly. It has nothing to do with that jerk Cole. “I’m still a go. Leo’s getting some camping gear for me.”
“Remember some thermals. Might be a cold night on Friday.” He gives me a flirty look. “Though I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to curl up with me, of course.”
I chuckle, because it’s rather pleasant to have a guy flirt with you. “Nice try. I’m getting a heavy-duty sleeping bag. But I thank you for the offer.”
He winks. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”
“Can’t say that,” I agree. And out of habit, I look over at Cole’s sporting goods store. If I squint, I can just barely make out a face staring over here.
I can just picture the glare on Cole’s face. Did he see Pat come over here? Is that getting on his nerves? Good. I want him to stew a little. I’m still wounded from earlier this morning.
It’s that remembered slight that makes me toss my hair and lean forward on my counter to smile at Pat. “So, are we going to see any wildlife out on this trip? I’d love to see some deer.”
Suck it, Cole.
Chapter Three
Cole
Pat Samson’s tour group shows up around four in the afternoon. They’re young, cute, and bubbly. Samson’s tour guide webpage has multiple pictures of him shirtless, holding an ax over his shoulder, and sweating lightly. Running around in the North woods without a shirt in the summer is asking for Lyme disease.
But the ladies eat that shit up. Rumor is that Samson sleeps with at least one of his guests each trip. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but there’s no way Adelaide is going with them.
No way.
I bite my tongue as the ladies flit around the shop, cooing over some wood carvings that Mal Standard whittles in his solitary cabin on the other side of the lake. If these women picked their camping guide based on the amount of oil Samson pours over himself for a photograph instead of the actual reviews full of angry and unhappy customers, they deserve whatever happens to them. Still…after the last one hops out the door, I pick up the phone.
“Pine Lodge and Resort,” a young man answers.
By the tremor in his voice, it must be Dillon. Dillon’s thirteen and undergoing a lot of puberty changes. On any given hour of the day, his voice could be two octaves different from the last time you spoke with him. “Dillon, it’s Cole Braxton. I need to speak with Eli.”
“He’s got a group with him.”
I scratch my head. “Get a pen.”
The Solberg boys are forgetful. On the other end of the line, I hear Dillon rummaging through at least four drawers before he huffs back to the phone. “Got it.”
“Write down there’s a group of three women who are heading out with Samson as a guide starting tomorrow.”
“Make that four,” Leo breezes back in and starts plucking items off the shelf. My eyes narrow.
“Four?” Dillon chirps.
“Three,” I say firmly glaring at Leo. He’s unfazed.
“Okay. What else?” he asks.
“That’s it. Your uncle will know what to do.” I hang up and round the counter.
Leo holds up a lightweight backpack. “This your best woman’s pack? I want to make sure I get a good one.”
I grab it from him and hang it back on the hook. Arms crossed, I glower at Leo. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll need to call Eli back and tell him it’s four women. I don’t want him passing up the Samson group just because of a miscount.” His eyes dance as he taunts me. It doesn’t take much brain power to guess who the fourth one is.
“She’s not going,” I tell him. The pulse point at my temple starts throbbing.
“Oh, she is.” He pulls the pack off the wall again. “I was just over there, and she was telling me how excited she was. It’s her first real vacation from the spa, and she wants to get the true native experience.”
I rip the pack away from him and take it into the back room. Leo trots after me. “She’s not getting anything but bit up to hell by bugs and fed shitty water. She’ll come home with the runs and won’t be able to work a
t her shop for five days. Then she’ll hate this town and leave for Minneapolis where she’ll meet some pansy-assed actuary and be bored out of her ever-loving skull.”
His eyebrows shoot into his forehead. “I see you haven’t given any thought to this at all.”
I clench my jaw and turn away in frustration. Yes, I want Adelaide. I’ve wanted her for three fucking years, but the sad fact is that I’d rather have her be hooking up with an actuary than dead because I couldn’t keep my animal urges under control. “Just make sure she’s safe.”
“No can do,” he whistles merrily as if I hadn’t just ripped open my guts and laid them on the floor for his inspection. “I’ve already told Adelaide I’d help her out. If you really think she shouldn’t be going on this trip, then you’ll have to stop her.”
I’m surrounded by a bunch of fools. “Watch the register.”
I ignore the muffled snort of laughter that follows me out of the front door. In less than ten seconds, I wrench open the door to Adelaide’s spa and step inside. The dim lighting and the soft music do nothing to decrease the pounding in my head.
“Is Adelaide here?” I rein in my irritation and opt for a smile for Adelaide’s little helper.
She grimaces and points down the hall. “She’s in her office.”
Adelaide’s office is tiny and smells—fuck me—like a perfumed bathhouse. I’ve got to get out of here. I back out. “Sorry, I’ll just wait for you outside.”
“No, come in, Cole.” Adelaide jumps up from behind her glossy white desk and the motion makes her tits bounce.
I’m instantly hard. Ever since she moved in here, I’ve gotten turned on by the scents of detergent and shampoos and basically every cleaning agent out there. I’ve had to avoid the bathroom aisle of the local grocery store so I don’t scare any children or old ladies with my inappropriate woodies.
I try to escape into the front room, but Adelaide is faster than me and has the door slammed shut before I can get my body out of the danger zone.
She leans against the door, breathing slightly heavily at the exertion. Her breasts rise and fall with each intake of air. Between my legs, my balls tighten and my cock thumps its head against the cold steel of my zipper. Of all the days to go commando, it would have to be this day.
I make a mental note to do laundry more often so that I won’t be unprotected around Adelaide. I need at least five layers of clothing to prevent her from seeing the erection I’m always sporting around her.
“Why are you here, Cole?”
Why was I here? My brain had short-circuited when she shut the door and plastered herself against the wood. In just two steps, I could be standing between her soft thighs. In another move, I could have the skirt of her pretty dress up around her neck with my cock pressed against her cunt lips. Would she be wet?
I take a deep breath, and the smell of her arousal staggers me. A bear’s sense of smell is better than a dog’s, a wolf’s, and definitely better than a human’s. I’ve never smelled this on her before. Maybe I’ve never been this close to her. Maybe I’ve been too focused on trying to get away before she realizes my cock wants to burrow into her body every time she’s within a five mile radius of me.
Against my better judgment, I take that step. And then another, until we’re so close that when she gasps, her hard nipples scrape against my chest through the thin fabric of her dress.
Somewhere in the back of my head, a warning bell is going off, but the blood rushing past my ears makes it impossible to hear anything but the raspy intake of air between us.
“Adelaide, you need to move away from me,” I whisper hoarsely. Fire licks along my spine, heating me to a desperate boiling point that has only one outlet. My mouth on hers.
“Make me.”
I can’t help myself. I press my mouth against hers. I mean to punish her for being so goddamned sexy, for refusing to move, for daring to spend time with that asswipe Samson. But the moment I feel her soft lips part under my mouth, I’m done for. She owns me, and has from the minute she placed her beautiful toes in this town.
I’ve fought this for so long and for what? I can’t even remember now why I’ve stayed away. I stroke my tongue inside of her. She moans, and it makes me feel a thousand feet tall. I could go outside and fell a forest of trees powered by this one kiss.
I reach behind her and lift her against my diamond-hard cock. The need to be inside her is an incessant drumbeat in my head. I have to claim her. Now.
She wraps her legs around me, and I fit my cock against the notch between her legs. She shudders and begins to ride me. Through the denim of my jeans, through the thin fabric of her dress, through whatever scraps of lace and cloth cover her pussy, I swear I can feel her heat and wetness. The top of my head nearly comes off. That pussy surrounding my cock? I need that. Holy hell, do I need that.
I rip my mouth away from hers and trail it along her jaw. She tastes like strawberries and sunshine. As I reach her ear, she tilts her head to expose the long, smooth column of her neck.
I can’t resist the invitation. Her skin is softer than a lamb’s. What does she put on herself? Unicorn tears? Jesus Christ.
“You are so fucking soft,” I mumble against her throat. “So soft and so fucking delicious.”
“And you are so very hard,” she whimpers.
Too hard. My cock could break her. My physical strength is too great for her. I shouldn’t be here, I remind myself.
“Adelaide, please,” I plead, breaking away from her sweet mouth. “Make me leave.”
She shakes her head numbly and tightens her legs around me, grinding against me. “No way. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
She’s waited?
Fuck.
Whatever scruples I may have had are gone. I need this skirt gone. I need her on some table. I need to be between her legs.
I swing her around, looking for some kind of surface to place her on. The only thing I see is her desk. It’s got bottles on it and papers and other shit.
I stumble toward it, tripping over a chair and nearly dropping her. She yelps in surprise or fear and clutches me tighter.
“I’m sorry. Shit.” I manage to get her to the desk and sit her on the edge, but in the process knock over several bottles. Goddammit. “Shit,” I repeat. I try to right the mess, and my big paws accidentally push papers onto the floor. I drop to my knees to gather stuff up, and my rock-hard cock screams in protest as it folds over in my jeans.
“It’s nothing, Cole. Really. I’ll get it later.” Adelaide jumps down from her perch and tries to help me.
Somehow, my shoulder knocks into the desk, and I watch in horror as her expensive laptop totters and then slides off the surface. It crashes to the floor, and we both wince at the sound of breaking glass.
The lust that fogged my mind since I stepped inside this office finally burns away. I push to my feet and look at the wreckage. Paper and broken bottles lie in a drunken, sodden mess near our feet. The computer is lying on its side, but the glass screen is clearly cracked.
The desk is askew and one chair has tipped over. Adelaide rises and pushes a hand through her hair. I turn away before I can see the dismay and disgust in her eyes.
“Don’t touch anything in here. I’ll get one of the Solberg boys to come over and clean everything up,” I tell her as I open the door.
“You’re leaving?” she asks incredulously.
“Haven’t I done enough?” I gesture toward the wreck in the room.
“So we made a mess. It can all be cleaned up.” She starts toward me. I hold up a hand to stop her. This is just a sample of the real havoc I’d wreak on her. Better I destroyed her office than I hurt her.
I don’t know how to rein in the animal when I’m with her. She makes me lose my mind. On the way out, I spot a pair of hiking boots in the corner. Fuck. I’d forgotten why I’d come over here.
“Don’t go with Pat Samson,” I say gruffly.
“Why?”
“He’s dan
gerous.”
“And you’re not?” She makes a frustrated sound at the back of her throat.
“Exactly. Stay away from both of us.”
The fallen expression on her face cuts me to the bone, and I leave before I bleed out in front of her.
Chapter Four
Adelaide
I touch my lips as Cole storms out of my office, leaving a hurricane of destruction in his wake. Oddly enough, I don’t mind the busted computer or the expensive testers of scents that are now stinking up my office.
I mind that he left. I flung myself at the guy and he ran away like I was a leper. Jeez. That hurts a girl’s ego.
Still…he did kiss me.
In a daze, I ignore the mess on the floor and return to the chair behind my desk. I sit down and pull a drawer open. I should be cleaning up the spilled bottles and the papers. Instead, I pull out my bullet vibe.
Oh, come on. Like any girl wouldn’t have a vibe in her desk if she got to look at Cole every day. I hike my skirt up under the desk and push the vibe into my panties. God, I’m so wet just from that kiss.
I’m baffled as to why he ran. But that kiss—oh, that kiss—is going to fuel my fantasies for months. Years, even. I flick the vibe on, and a jolt sears through me as it starts. I begin to rub it against the hood of my clit as I close my eyes and picture Cole’s face, not angry with frustration, but dazed with lust. The smoky look in his eyes when my legs went around his hips. The feel of the bristle on his cheek as his mouth slid over mine.
I come nearly instantly.
•••
Cole doesn’t come back, and my horny hopes die a slow and painful death over the next few days. And with the death of my hopes, irritation returns. Who does Cole think he is? He doesn’t want to take me camping—lord knows I’ve coyly hinted at it more than once—but he doesn’t want anyone else to take me camping either. Am I supposed to sit around and wait another three years for him to kiss me?
I mean, there’s only so much entertainment in this town, and my Netflix account is down to suggesting foreign art films because I’ve seen everything else.