by Anthology
Their short conversation before she’d passed out told him that when she came awake again, she’d be a handful.
Blue smiled at the thought. Actually smiled. Maybe he really was crazy.
Out of bed, he grabbed a flashlight, a stethoscope and his blood pressure kit. Moments later, he climbed back into bed with a deep feeling of profound relief at her solid vitals.
Maybe this was the first stage of some kind of post-traumatic dementia where he’d become all angsty and crotchety?
And horny.
Yes, that was it. He was just hard up. Nothing much in the way of partners way out here, unless you counted bears. Maybe there were sexy bear shifters he just hadn’t discovered yet, now that he thought about it.
The thought made him shiver, and not in a good way. Yet when he looked down at the lovely creature in his bed, even in the dim light of his room, all he could do was wonder what in the hell was going on…with himself.
This is more than hormones, Blue. If your libido was the issue, why are you hoping she regains consciousness again so you can make her pancakes and feed her breakfast?
Did post-traumatic issues involve bacon?
Maybe lions didn’t even like bacon. He hoped that wasn’t the case. Dislike of bacon was a serious character flaw. But regardless of Kotara’s dietary needs, she sure was nice to cuddle with in spite of the blustering snow and chill in the air. He’d had a lot of quiet holidays in his life. Perhaps this one would be a bit livelier…if he didn’t get eaten. Literally.
* * *
“Owww,” Kotara heard herself moan in her rapidly departing sleep state. A deep breath in told her olfactory system that she was alone in the room. Along with that information came a quiet ripple of awareness deep in her gut at the scent on the bedding of the man who called this place home.
She’d been too out of it the last time she woke to realize that the ripple of energy she’d noticed was more than just her muscles knitting back together. It was deeper than that. More acute. More…intimate.
Kotara cracked her lids open and blinked against the bright winter sunlight that streamed through the bank of small windows on the other side of the room. Sitting up carefully, there was no help in giving an appreciative whistle at the layout of the place.
The bed was strategically tucked into a corner on one side of the long rectangular room, protected by three walls. The windows looked more like a bookshelf with thick panes set into each block. It was the only point that exposed exactly how thick the walls were—a good two feet thick? Who was this guy expecting to come calling?
Then again, he’d gotten himself ankle deep in shit by reporting a false claim to the Shifter and Were Armed Tactics agency.
The short answer—she’d come calling.
Though she was healing much more slowly than she should, Kotara didn’t worry about it. As a scientist and doctor in tune with her body, she knew a bit of food, some more rest and a shift into her alternate form would kick start her metabolism. Many didn’t realize that a fast metabolism not only helped a girl keep the weight off, it also determined how quickly one healed.
The door stood wide open. Kotara’s mouth watered and stomach growled from the scent of bacon and coffee that wafted in. Keen hearing picked up the sounds of the front door opening and closing, followed by footsteps and the sound of wood being gently tossed into a hard surface.
Wood smoke joined the other enticing scents floating in the air.
Kotara swung her legs over the side of the bed and breathed a sigh of relief at the steadiness of her knees. Pain was still a present bedfellow, but considerably less than before. Moving carefully on silent feet, she snatched up a thick robe that lay across a chest at the foot of the bed and slipped it on over her chilled body.
She spotted her gear bag and headed directly for it and…
“Ouch! Son of a bitch! Foot, meet gear bag tucked next to that very solid chest.”
Wriggling her toes to make sure she hadn’t damaged yet another part of her body, she disengaged the locks on the bag and checked the contents. The batteries on her comm unit and med devices were three-quarter’s power and her pistol and ammo cartridges were just as she’d left them.
Everything was there that should be, and nothing was there that shouldn’t—meaning her guest hadn’t slipped any surveillance transmitters into her stuff while she’d been knocked out. Well, that ruled out his trying to sabotage her mission. Any true agent or spy would have certainly taken advantage of her injury.
So, if he wasn’t a bad guy, then who the hell was this man who’d rescued her, stitched up some spectacularly nasty wounds with an expert hand, and then tucked her into bed naked without violating her? He’d still accused an innocent man of a ghastly crime, so what was his deal on playing nice? After all, he was responsible for setting up her brother-in-law, and something had to be done about that.
Walking into an unknown situation wasn’t her most favorite thing ever, so Kotara drew on her shifter genetics and hoped they would answer her this time.
It was almost like coming home, the music that sang through her body as her lioness responded. She was nowhere near one hundred percent, but she could shift enough to elongate her claws and canines just in case she had to defend herself.
But for now, she would accept what appeared to be his good will, which meant walking out of this room unarmed.
Following her nose, Kotara headed for the kitchen and hoped her good luck held out during the coming conversation with Mr. Harrison Blue.
She came upon him in a kitchen that screamed bachelor. Not because it was small, but because it was a beautiful wreck. The beautiful part was spacious and full of top-of-the-line, all-black and stainless steel appliances, cream cabinets trimmed in sea blue, and sealed, shiny-looking stone countertops in a complimenting dark hue.
The wreck? One side of an oversized double sink looked as if the man had used every utensil, pan and bowl available just to make breakfast. Egg shells made a gooey mess where they sat on the gourmet block. Milk, flour, sugar and all the ingredients for pancakes and oatmeal were spread across the counter next to an impressive gas stove.
A giant bag of roasted coffee beans sat open next to a sleek-looking burr grinder. Her gaze homed in on a full pot of coffee. Kotara almost smiled at the fact that the man had a huge mug full of the brew close at hand. Another ceramic mug sat empty nearby with three kinds of flavored creamer, all ready for use. Considering she’d dropped in quite unexpectedly, one thing was obvious—the man liked his coffee.
Keeping her distance, she poured herself a cup and sipped immediately. Her sisters called her lava mouth because she loved her brew strong, black and scalding hot.
“Mmmm, that’s good.” And…odd. She was on a high priority hunt, standing in the kitchen of the man she was looking for, wearing his very good smelling robe, in her bare feet. Yet, in spite of all of that, Kotara felt totally at home.
Maybe she’d knocked herself in the brain when she fell off that damn mountain during the freaking avalanche? Or maybe it was because the man who’d rescued her stood in a messy kitchen, making what she assumed was her breakfast, in nothing but a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.
She tilted her head as she took Harrison in. In addition to an amazing upper body, she was impressed to see that he was well armed—which made him smart as well as gorgeous. A double shoulder holster sported exquisite handguns. The thigh holster was empty but the gun that should be in it was near his left hand on the counter. He might be flipping bacon and scrambling eggs as if this were a sunny Sunday brunch, but Harrison Blue was ready for action.
If she wanted to, she could be on him before he moved his hand from the spatula to his sidearm. But this situation warranted a little bit of tact.
She almost snorted at herself.
Tact? Maybe I can find some somewhere.
“So, what’s with the red plaid jammies? Are you pretending to be Santa Claus?” Well, so much for tact.
His answer was a
wink and a mega-watt smile before turning back to his current duty of not burning the trough of bacon he was flipping.
And how the hell did he have tanned skin in the middle of winter? Maybe he was a shifter after all? Well, part animal or not, the man was ripped and toned as if he worked out every day. Both his chest and head looked as smooth as a baby’s bottom, but he was obviously a red-head, if the trimmed goatee and mustache were any indication. Kotara found herself wondering if he shaved his chest, as some men did. Even with a chrome dome, he still managed to appear tousled, tartan jammies and all.
“Thank you for the coffee, and for hauling my frozen butt out of all that snow.”
He smiled but kept his eyes on his task. “I could actually see a hint of your bag poking up out of the snow. The rest of you was buried pretty good, though.”
Wow, what a lovely southern drawl. It reminded her of her brother-in-law, Lou. That particular lion shifter was as country as sweet tea and hot water cornbread, and he loved the ever loving stuffing out of her sister, Niah.
Every year they had a huge event at Pryde Ranch. The place would be full of family and friends, food and fun. Kotara almost wished she were home to watch them begin the holiday preparations. Almost. But the bottom line was, she was lonely. What better way to keep her mind off of it than work?
“So,” Mr. Harrison Blue said as he piled several platters with meaty-and-carb-laden goodness. “Are you ready to tell me why you were looking for me?”
Her stomach rumbled. “Can we discuss it over breakfast? I’m so hungry I could gnaw off my own leg.”
Yep, tact to the rescue, without a doubt.
* * *
Settled directly across the dining table from Mr. Blue, Kotara served herself as much as her plate could hold. For a while, silence reigned as they both stuffed their faces with what turned out to be a delicious meal. Finally, she slowed down enough to turn her attention to her host.
“Okay, Captain Harrison Blue—”
“Just Blue is fine.”
“Okay, Blue,” she said without missing a beat, though her gut wiggled around as if permission to use his nickname was a special gift. It was the holiday season, and she loved gifts. “You reported a crime to the Shifter and Were Armed Tactics agency. I’m here to, uh, interview you about it.” Then she painted on the cheesiest smile she could muster.
And he gave her one right back as he said, “Really? Well said. Glad you used interview instead of interrogate. What else do you know about me?”
“What else?” she asked.
“When you woke up in the night, we introduced ourselves.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table as he held her gaze. “As polite as we were to each other, I’m sure I didn’t tell you my former rank in the Navy. So obviously you’ve studied me, yes?”
“I wouldn’t be a good bounty hunter if I hadn’t.” He kept his body relaxed as he leaned forward, but his gaze screamed “danger, Will Robinson”. She continued, “I’m telling you my profession because you’ve given me no reason not to. You’ve taken pretty good care of my wounds and if you wanted to hurt me, you could have done it by now.”
He nodded but didn’t reply.
“By the way, I’d rather do the interview thing,” she said, “but I can interrogate you instead, if you want.” Another piece of bacon met its end. It was perfectly crunchy, and as delicious as the coffee she chased it down with. At this rate, she’d inhaled two plates of maple syrup-covered pancakes, a bowl of oatmeal and a trough of smoked bacon. Surely she would have to crawl back to bed to finish healing because her stomach would weigh more than the rest of her body by the time she got up from the table. And with the intense look Blue was giving her, shifting right now was out of the question. She could let her lioness do the talking, but she’d rather gain this man’s trust than scare the ever lovin’ shit out of him after the murder he’d witnessed.
She looked up and caught Harrison’s gaze again.
“Is there a reason you’re smirking at me?”
“I don’t usually have such an enthusiastic breakfast partner,” he said. “Glad you like the food, and I’m not being passive aggressive about it. I really am glad.”
“You know what I am. I need the calories to complete the healing process.”
“So how does that work? I’m actually a mix of fascinated and terrified. But you haven’t skinned or bitten me, so I guess that will wait until later?”
“So you want to be interrogated and bitten?” She laughed. “That takes extra energy so I’m going to need another pancake.” Kotara moaned for the millionth time around her fork. Was there anything sexier than a man who gave off the vibe of both bad ass and good cook?
“Will I turn if you bite me?” he asked.
“Turn? Into what?”
“You tell me.” He took a final sip from his mug and set it on the table. With arms crossed over a sculpted chest, he appeared to wait patiently for her answer, but the zing of his own distinct energy filled the air. Someone wasn’t as calm as they pretended to be.
Deliberately ignoring his question about turning, she said, “You reported the murder of a man and claimed to have seen the shifter who did it. In addition, you identified the perpetrator by name. Or at least, that’s the story we were told.”
“You’re way prettier than the last S.W.A.T. agent I met.”
The last agent? Kotara had no idea what he was talking about. Meeting another person from her agency was nowhere in the reports Captain Johns had sent to her pride. “Do go on. Tell me what happened from beginning to end, with as much detail as you can remember.”
4
This woman turned into a lethal killing machine that outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds. Though he was well armed, he’d be a fool to believe he had a chance against her if she decided to stop being nice.
Just then, he caught her gaze. Eyes of such a clear amber, they brought to mind his grandpa’s aged sipping whiskey. She gave an encouraging smile and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. He loved that she was a beauty. Naturally curly hair complimented a honey-brown complexion. Thick and long, it was pulled up into a messy pouf of a bun, but a few tendrils had escaped and corkscrewed around her face and nape. His fingers itched to play in it. He shook his head to clear the wayward thought from his mind, but the thought wasn’t listening.
Fine. He had a story to tell anyway.
She wanted to know about the kill he’d stumbled upon just outside of Sawtooth? It was an easy task for two reasons. One, unfortunately, he remembered the incident as if it were just yesterday, and it was never far from his dreams. And two, he had nothing to hide, so spilling his ever-lovin’ guts to the beauty across the table wasn’t an issue. She was law enforcement for her kind…which brought to mind another thought.
“You’re the first law enforcement officer to come up here to investigate this issue.”
Her brow pulled down into a disbelieving frown and Blue felt a punch to his gut that seemed to come from outside of himself. From…somewhere else.
“So,” he continued, “it makes me wonder, why look into it now? What took so long for someone to check it out?”
A manicured brow winged upward as she pinned him with what must be her “Uh huh, on with the story, buster” expression. A smile bloomed on his face without his permission as he took in her disgruntled bedhead, yet alluring posture. “Well, I’m just saying.”
Kotara winked at him.
He’d had his share of spiritual-type experiences all the times he thought he was going to die overseas, but considering his life wasn’t in danger just now, this was a deep knowing that he couldn’t explain. As a doctor, he liked facts, statistics and stuff that could be proven. Yet here he sat with a female that shouldn’t exist…just like the memories of his last encounter should never have been formed.
With a long intake of breath, Blue began.
It was late spring and Blue had already been working through his to-do list in preparation for the winter months. No sane p
erson who lived this far out in the sticks waited until fall to prep for the snowy season. Sure, tourists came through here to enjoy skiing and such, but they went home after a week or two. When you made your home in a place like this, your options were a bit different.
All his hunting, butchering and curing were done, and now canning and freezing were in full swing. He’d just put away several cases of goods down in the root cellar and had run out of pickling salt. He was a planner, and a list-maker, and it annoyed him that he’d miscalculated and now had to take time to make a run to the grocer in town.
As a person who preferred a solitary existence after what had seemed like a lifetime of death and battle, Blue found that spending time outside and keeping his body in tip-top shape by using nature helped him remain grounded. To make sure he wasn’t as surly when he got to town as he felt right then, he’d decided to work out first.
The meadows had looked like a river of green, and the trees were heavy with leaves. Blue headed to his favorite spot that overlooked a small lake in the forest, just off of one of the walking trails he’d cut himself.
More than a time or two, he’d had the feeling of being watched, but rather than pay attention to it, he’d done some deep breathing exercises and chalked up his twitchiness to the stress of getting his household chores done on the ridiculous timetable he’d set for himself.
His first stop in town was the little pharmacy. He’d done his pull-ups by climbing into a tree and using a strong limb. Since he’d forgotten his gloves, he soon sported several nasty splinters. Reminded him of an old boxing movie where the guy got in peak fighting shape using the natural landscape of what looked like the heart of Siberia come winter.
The sky turned gray, ushering in a blustery wind and the deluge from hell, but there was still plenty of light left in the day and Blue had planned to take advantage of it.