by Becky Flade
Maggie shifted her weight and the wolf stood, stretching his long body out. She tried to unzip her bag and it wouldn’t budge. Again. “Goddamn it, I’m stuck in this freaking thing again.” She slowly stood and then shimmied her body so that the bag slithered down to pool at her feet. “I’m heading in early tonight. I’m going for a ride in the morning, and the last time I was so tired, Bessie almost threw me, and Bessie is a very gentle mare. I have to get a few hours shut eye in a comfortable bed.” The wolf licked her hand goodbye and bounded into the darkness.
• • •
Aidan stood just outside the doors of the stable and listened to Maggie sing quietly to the horse as she combed its mane. He smiled as he heard the graphic words she was cooing. He very much doubted the band sang them in quite that way. Whistling a country tune, Aidan strolled into the dark interior. Maggie straightened when she heard him enter behind her and watched suspiciously as he crossed the barn. He grabbed two of the several pitchforks resting in the corner and, crossing back to her, handed her one.
“You ride, you work,” he stated simply and moved to an empty stall to start shoveling out the dirty hay. He had his back turned but heard her shoveling across the aisle. He wasn’t sure how to start a conversation, but he needn’t have worried.
“So, Aidan, want to play a game?”
“What kind of game?” He was hesitant and a little suspicious, but at least he wasn’t bored.
“Twenty questions. I ask you one, you answer honestly, then you ask me one and I answer honestly.”
“Doesn’t seem like much of game to me. How do you determine who wins?”
“Easy. First person who lies or refuses to answer loses.” He thought about it, sure she’d ask him something he’d lie about or evade right off, making him the loser. “If you’re scared to play, that’s fine, we can shovel in silence.” She was goading him and he knew it. “Or I could go back to singing since you enjoyed it so much.”
He laughed lightly; she’d known he was right outside listening, but she hadn’t stopped singing. Off-key. “Okay, but I’m going first.”
“Shoot.” He could hear the shovel moving and the breathy quality her voice had taken on as she worked.
“Rumor has it your paper pulled your bank roll. Why?”
“Oh nicely done. Rather than waste a question asking if it were true, you jump to the why. I’d missed my deadline and they wanted me to come home. I wasn’t ready to and took some personal time. My turn.” Aidan tensed, waiting for the inevitable. “Why do they call this place the Cherry Farm?”
He relaxed, surprised at the question. “I have absolutely no idea and no one I’ve ever asked has known the answer. It’s just always been called that. Why weren’t you ready to leave?”
“I didn’t get the answers I came for yet. Why do you only have mares?” Aidan thought about it and realized she was right, he only had mares. He laughed quickly.
“I didn’t realize I did until you pointed it out. Guess I haven’t found a stud I really wanted to own.”
“Yeah I got a similar problem.” He could hear the smile in her voice even if he couldn’t see her face. “Your turn.”
“What’s with the concert t-shirts?” Now he could hear her laughing. He’d seen her in no less than seven different tour shirts. Today was Aerosmith. Aidan glanced over his shoulder and watched her ass move under the denim as she worked. Sucking in the pungent air, he struggled to fight the sudden knot of desire lodged in his gut.
“Guilty pleasure. I download shamelessly, but I also go to concerts, a lot of concerts. I pay exorbitant ticket prices and then buy myself an overpriced, poor quality concert tee as both souvenir and karmic justice. What kind of music do you listen to?”
“Mostly country, some classic rock, and the occasional classical piece.” He thought he heard her groan. “I take it you don’t approve?”
“I have a firm dislike of country music, no offense. You ever use that Jacuzzi?”
“I believe it’s my turn, Maggie.”
“No, you asked if I approved of your musical preferences. Don’t waste your questions. Jacuzzi?” He smiled. She was clever. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun mucking stalls.
“Yes, often. It’s best just after daylight, when the sun hasn’t fully risen yet, the air is still cool, there’s dew on every blade of grass in the meadow so the entire expanse of it glitters, and you can see the steam rising off the water as it bubbles. How long are you staying?”
“Yesterday I would have said until I get the answers I’m looking for, but practicality overrides will. I’ll be leaving soon, just haven’t decided how soon. I can’t exactly afford to stay as I’m currently unemployed. Are we up to twenty yet? I forgot to count.”
“Ten. You’d stay longer if you could afford to?” He asked it nonchalantly, as though his world didn’t depend on her answer. Then he silently tried to convince himself it didn’t.
“Hey it’s my turn.”
“Nope you asked how many we were up to. Don’t waste your questions.” She chuckled when he tossed her words back at her, and Aidan thought he would probably never tire of hearing her laughter. The sound made him think of childhood; sunny days; sandy beaches; and snowball fights in the winter. His childhood had been happy and he’d taken it for granted. He thought probably all children did. But all that had been stripped from him when he was barely old enough to be called a man. Then the wolf had become his reality and he’d closeted himself away from the world for so long he’d forgotten the simple warmth of sharing laughter with another person.
Maggie’s laugh filled him with a light that he both craved and feared. He knew he should continue to distance himself from her. He was worried he could become addicted to her clever smile and husky laugh. Aidan pushed the worry aside before he could talk himself out of enjoying the moment. He had sought her out this day. He meant to see it through.
“Yes, I’d stay longer if I could afford it. Why did you push me away that day?”
Aidan debated how honest he should be with her. “I was afraid. Why couldn’t I find anything online about you before college?”
“Maggie O’Connell isn’t my birth name. Afraid of me-or afraid for me?” She asked.
“Both. What’s your birth name?”
“Anastasia Boyle.” He heard the shudder in her voice, sensed there was a story behind it. He was surprised to realize he very much wanted to hear it. But not as surprised as he was when she asked her next question. “Do you want to have sex with me?”
“More than I want to breathe.” His voice was almost whisper quiet, but he knew it carried in the quiet stable. Aidan looked over his shoulder again; she still had her back to him and was quietly shoveling. He wasn’t certain if the ragged breathing was hers or his. “Are you an honest person?”
“Yes. Or at least I try to be. I can’t remember the last time I intentionally lied to someone. Are you?”
“No, I’m not and I can’t remember the last time I tried to be. I only get one more. I better make it good.” Aidan thought for several minutes. The only sounds in the stable were the horses’ comforting sighs and nickers and the pitchforks scraping concrete. “What’s Sly’s given name?”
Maggie laughed at the question, obviously taken by surprise. Aidan was glad for it. She was a constant surprise to him. He often found himself delighted with something she said the few times he’s allowed himself to converse with her. He thought her addicting and that terrified him. He watched her now as she turned toward him, shaking her head from side to side.
“Sorry, Aidan, I forgot to tell you the only rule: no divulging anyone else’s secrets. I gave my word. You’ll have to ask me something else.”
“Forget it, I win. You refused to answer.” He leaned back and noticed they’d cleaned out all the stalls in record time. She was leaning against the pitchfork; sweat-dampened tendrils stuck to the sides of her face, her Aerosmith t-shirt sodden around the neckline. He hadn’t had this relaxed a
time with anyone in so long it made his heart ache.
“Bullshit.” She laughed again and Aidan felt the ache shrink just a little.
“Your rules, rock star, I just played by them.” He ambled over to her, reluctant to end the good-natured banter and pleasant buzz of sexual attraction. He reached out to take the fork from her, but instead brushed the curls from her temple and removed a hunk of hay from her hair. “Have breakfast with me tomorrow? We can use the Jacuzzi and eat on the deck.” Aidan’s eyes fell to her mouth. Her tongue darted out to slick across her full bottom lip, and he felt the ache shift from heart to loins.
“I’ll have to buy a bathing suit,” she whispered, staring into his eyes. He could see his desire and need mirrored in her eyes. His other hand came up until her face was framed within his palms. He rubbed his thumb across her moist bottom lip and the pink flesh trembled. “Aidan.”
Then he heard the truck pull up out front and knew Sly had returned. He gave her a wry, disappointed look and gently kissed her forehead as the truck door slammed shut. Aidan took the fork from her and was replacing them both when Sly shuffled in, a bale of fresh hay in his arms.
“Hi, boss,” he said in surprise and Aidan saw him toss an inquiring look at Maggie, saw her delicately shrug her shoulders and return to combing Bessie’s mane as she’d been when Aidan had joined her in the stable. “I had planned on mucking those out when I got back.”
“No worries, Sly, I needed the excuse to apologize to Maggie for my behavior before. I’ll get out of your way.” Aidan stopped at the doorway before turning to Maggie. “And for Christ’s sake, Mags, while you’re out, buy a new sleeping bag.”
He had the distinct pleasure of watching her clever mouth gape open as he turned his back to her and, whistling, headed toward home. Aidan knew what she’d infer from his parting comment, and though he was still terrified of trusting her, he felt that he could. And it felt good to get the last word for a change.
He wanted to be with her, to be one with her, to hold her tightly in his arms and feel human again. But more wondrous than the desire and the need he’d forgotten how to feel was the realization that she felt them, too. She knew what he was, and she wasn’t afraid of him or the wolf. She wasn’t disgusted by him. He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been until she wormed her way into his life, and he wasn’t prepared to let her leave, not yet.
Chapter Six
Maggie perused the rack of bathing suits with a mild sense of disgust. They had two very different but basic styles: itty bitty bikinis and matronly one-pieces. She had driven for almost forty-five minutes to Brandwyne just to get to the nearest mall, and since it wasn’t swimsuit season and this wasn’t a beach spot, there weren’t a lot of options. They had each in her size, and each in a variety of colors and prints. She ultimately decided on the most modest bikini she could find. Of course, there were about a thousand different places to buy a god-awful sleeping bag, Maggie thought to herself as she juggled it out of the way so she could pay for the swimsuit.
The thought took her back to Aidan’s parting shot as he had left the stable. As far as she was concerned, that was an admission. He acknowledged that he was the wolf, her wolf as she’d come to think of him over the past month. She wondered what had changed that allowed him to make such an obvious admission. Suddenly Maggie realized that Aidan was aware of her and probably everything she said while he was in wolf form. “Sneaky bastard,” she mumbled under her breath, and the woman walking in front of Maggie shot her a worried glance before quickly moving away.
Pushing the thought aside, Maggie strolled through the nearly empty mall, enjoying the brief visit to civilization. She picked up some essentials—shampoo and the like—snacked in the crowded food court, and trolled the music store making a mental checklist of new releases to download and recording upcoming concert dates in the day planner she kept in her bag. She easily spent an hour in the book store, coveting both the accomplishments of other writers and the books themselves before deciding to leave for the little town she was starting to think of as home.
On her way to the parking complex, she detoured into a store filled with Native American art and knick-knacks. Wolves were the dominant theme, not surprisingly, but there was a series of beautiful, seemingly hand-carved, stone wolves of varying poses that she instantly fell in love with. But the price of only one was a bit steep for Maggie’s budget and she wanted the entire line. As she battled again with desire and reality, the aging clerk, obviously Native American herself, approached.
“You like those?” the clerk asked.
“They are exquisite and a little out of my price range right now. Did you carve them?” Maggie replied. The woman snorted.
“No, I commissioned them from an artist on a reservation in Nevada. If you don’t mind my asking, do you have Native American ancestry?”
“Yes I do, a little on my mother’s side, but I know woefully little more than that. I’ve always meant to research the genealogy but haven’t gotten around to it.” Maggie glanced longingly at the display once more. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Have a good day.”
Maggie was nearly out the shop door when the woman called out to wait. The storekeeper hurried over, grabbed Maggie’s hand, and pressed something cold and hard into Maggie’s palm. She instinctively wrapped her fingers around it. “You take this, it was meant for you,” the small woman said. “He was meant for you. Never doubt it. And don’t doubt yourself.”
Maggie thanked the woman and quickly exited the mall. Only when she was safely locked in the rental, her purchases on the passenger seat beside her, did Maggie look at the gift she’d received. It was the largest of the stone wolves, the signature piece of the collection and the one for which Maggie had yearned the most.
Maggie placed the small carving in her bag and started the car, music instantly filling the vehicle. As she got closer to Trappers’ Cove, the strange episode was pushed aside by the nerves and excitement Aidan’s invitation and admission generated. She’d never had a man want her more than breath itself. It was a heady, powerful knowledge and she was giddily aroused by it. She knew he was finally beginning to trust her. She wondered, briefly, if she would be able to leave once she had her answers and thought perhaps she wouldn’t.
As she neared the town’s borders, the farms, spaced so far apart by sweeping meadows and broken by forests, gave way to small, almost suburban-like homes. When she entered the town officially, the homes gave way to stores and the like. She parked at the inn, but on a whim, Maggie walked down to the diner. All the little homes littering the outskirts of town had given her an idea. Even if she had enough time for a nap before nightfall, she was too keyed up to rest and she could write in the forest by lamplight with her wolf by her side.
Ma greeted her from across the diner, waving her hand around the place in general, which was Ma’s idea of seating a guest, and Maggie chose a stool at the counter. If she could rent a small place from someone locally at less than what the inn was charging a night and stock a small kitchen with meals she could make, she could stretch her limited income a little further. She could stay a little longer.
Ma hurried over and took Maggie’s order for fries and a Pepsi, tsk’ing about how Maggie ate but hadn’t put on an ounce that she could see, and then ran to answer the phone, yelling Maggie’s order at Old Man as she raced by his window. About halfway into the greasy, delicious fries, Ma settled down at the counter to chat, just like Maggie had hoped.
“How you doing, honey?”
“I’m good, Ma. You wouldn’t happen to know if anyone around here has a small place with a working kitchen they’d be looking to rent?” Maggie repeatedly dunked her fry in ketchup while Ma mulled it over.
“I guess the inn is getting pretty expensive, huh?” Maggie nodded and popped the fry in her mouth. “You know what? The Blacks have a cabin that’s been sitting empty since Jake’s arthritis got bad a year or two ago.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Old Man! Does Jake Black’s cabin
have a working kitchen?”
“Of course it does, woman, you think Alice woulda let him clean and cook the fish up at the house? Or that she wanted our smelly selves in her kitchen three times a day during our trips?” Maggie wondered why no one had mentioned the empty fishing cabin sooner, which she assumed was in the forest on the Black side of the property line.
“You eat your fries, sweetie, and I’ll go give Alice a call.”
As the sun fell below the tree line that evening, Maggie was busy sweeping roughly two years’ worth of dust out the front door of the small cabin that smelled of fish, Old Spice, and liniment.
Chapter Seven
Maggie said goodbye to the wolf only a few feet from the front door of the cabin where he’d walked her before leaping across the stream and disappearing into the trees. She could picture him, speeding through the forest, a blurry streak of gray, moving eloquently through the wilderness, and she allowed herself a second of envy before going inside to stuff her new swimsuit into her oversized shoulder bag. She took a quick second to access her face in the mirror hanging crookedly over the kitchen sink. She looked like she’d been up most of the night, and several before that. She was going to have to adjust her routine; she needed more sleep.
She quietly took stock of the small cabin, which reminded her fondly of her first apartment. The furniture was mismatched and patched, probably before it was even brought out to the cabin. After sitting vacant for nearly two years it had taken longer for the water to run clear than it had to clean up the place. She was totally enamored with the whole of it.
Maggie hiked out to where her car was parked. Ironically enough it was where she’d been parking all this time. Years ago Jake Black had cut out the deep shoulder so his fishing buddies could get to and from the cabin without having to drive up to the main house. This allowed Maggie a certain level of discreet privacy unlike what she’d grown accustomed to at the inn.