She hadn’t been back on the deck at night in several days, not since the first. How could he woo her if he only saw her when he had a rack? He had to find a way to meet her, but damn, that had been hard only being a man after dark.
“How’s it going?” The voice inside his kitchen made him growl.
Bos sat at his table eating what looked like barbeque from a plate.
“From the growl, I’ll guess not so good.” Bos swirled meat around on his fork. “I’d offer you some, but it might be your cousin or something.” Bos’s grin made Rupe want to hurt him. Whether he was eating venison or not, Bos always said he was for annoyance purposes.
Sitting down, he ignored Bos, though the spicy smells coming from it enticed him. “How did you get in?”
“I figured out where you hid your key. Nice pile of shit, by the way. You need to pooper scoop. I found that before I found the rock.” Bos cocked his head as he shoveled in another forkful. “So it’s not going well with Miss Blond?”
“No, I haven’t moved past calling her Miss Blond.”
“You’ve had almost a week, Rupe. You need to get moving on this. Get moving on her. In her.”
Sliding into Miss Blond’s body. His cock did a dance, up and ready. “I’m working on it.”
“Work faster. The winter solstice is coming.”
“I know that. Don’t you think I want to fix this curse?” His temper flared as he slammed his chair back under the table.
“I know you do, old friend.” Bos sounded tired. His mouth turned up in a worried frown. “But you have to do more than boink Miss Blond. And that’s not been ...”
“My strong suit.”
“No.”
Bos had a point. Sex never was a problem. He’d never met a woman who’d inspired him to get all mushy. His face drew up at the thought.
Miss Blond’s laughter echoed in his brain. Maybe she could.
“I’m going to her. I’ll deliver a ... pie or something. Be neighborly.” All he had in his cupboard was a snack cake. But it was better than nothing.
Bos clapped. “Good. Think ... warm, romantic thoughts. Play some Kenny G. Take her on a bed of roses. Watch out for thorns pricking you where it hurts, though. Especially with your custom of going commando.”
He flipped Bos the bird as he headed out the door. Bos’s laughter followed him into the night.
Arriving at her house, he slid into the woods as a car traveled up the driveway. A young, lanky man with blond hair got out of the car with an overnight bag.
What was she, a cradle robber? The man had to be in his early twenties, if that. Maybe he had the wrong house. He couldn’t be coming here.
His mouth narrowed into a hard line as Mr. Blond walked up the steps and rapped on the door.
Without preamble, Miss Blond let him in.
Shit. She had a boyfriend.
* * * * *
The knock sounded again, hammering in its insistence.
“I’m coming,” Gill repeated. Her irritation grew at the continued knock. Whoever it was needed to keep their pants on. Unless they were hung ‑‑ then she could drool. And send them packing after she was done.
She flung open the door.
“Hey, sis!” Evander kissed her cheek. “Long time no see.”
Gillian’s eyes wrinkled in curiosity and suspicion. He hadn’t kissed her in years. He wanted something. “Yeah, Evan. It’s been all of three months. What are you doing here?” She’d seen her much younger brother when he’d headed off to private school back in August. Evan had been an “oops” baby. Now seventeen, he radiated testosterone and youthful exuberance in a man’s body. And he drove their mother nuts.
“I’m on winter break.” Evan plunked down a shoulder bag. “Boy, you live out in the middle of fu ... nowhere. Mom said ...”
Gill didn’t pretend to listen to what Mom said. Their mother said a lot of things. And goodness, he was out of school early. He’d probably aced out of exams again. “What are you doing here?”
“You posted some pictures on your blog.” Evan stared up, taking in the high ceilings and the second floor balcony that overlooked the foyer. No one was sure whether he’d be a computer engineer or architect. Both were his passions. “Nice.”
The boy needed a thesaurus. Everything was always “nice” or “cool.” She’d posted a bunch of pictures of her white deer today to the blog associated with her website, after developing and scanning them. “Yeah, some wildlife shots.”
He turned to Gill. “A white deer. Do you know how rare they are?”
“I read they’re pretty rare.”
“The guys will flip out when I have his head mounted on my wall.”
“What?” she stammered, her heart playing a polka. “His head?” She didn’t intend on the stag’s head being mounted anywhere. Except in photos.
“Yeah. I’ll hunt him. He’s got a huge rack.”
“Evan, you can’t.”
“Come on, Gill. I’ve already told everyone about it, and how I’m going to bag it.” His face twisted. “And besides, it’s a deer. You love deer meat.”
She sighed. He spoke the truth on the meat. Their father had been an avid hunter before he’d died. Often, they’d eaten the fruits of his hunts. Or, at least, she and Evan had. Their mother liked to purchase her meat without seeing where it came from. It had been a long time since she’d been around anyone who shot wildlife with anything but a camera.
“Mom said you’d let me. She said you’d probably be glad to get rid of it. It probably eats your plants.” Evan’s eyes caught an Andy Warhol print. He cocked his head, staring at it. “You love your flowers.”
She gritted her teeth. “Gunnar loved flowers.” It had never been her hobby to take care of them. But she had because her husband adored them. Before he’d left her. If only she’d been perverse enough to pour salt water on all the plants he’d loved. But she hadn’t.
Evan launched into another “Mom said” spiel. She quietly led him to the open kitchen. “I don’t want the deer hunted.”
“But Gilllly.” His face scrunched up like the little boy he’d been when she was a teen. “Come on.”
Their mother would have frosted fits if Evan didn’t get to try and hunt the damn deer. Only one thing besides that had her contemplating letting him do it. Evan was the worst hunter in the history of huntdom. He’d never bagged anything, was a horrible shot. He fell asleep in the tree stand more often than not. A few weeks of playing hunter would satisfy him. And then he wouldn’t nag Gill again.
“You can try and hunt it.”
“Yes.” Evan pumped his fist. “I knew you’d say yes.”
“Yeah, well ...” She rolled her eyes. “This one time only. You don’t bag him while you’re here, you don’t get to try again.”
Evan nodded, his blond hair swinging with him. “Got it. What do you have to eat?”
She remembered the bag. “You aren’t staying here, are you? You’re going home to Mom’s, right?”
“Mom said ...”
She sighed, opening the aluminum-colored fridge to let him peer in. “You do go back to school the beginning of January, don’t you?” Grocery shopping would have to be the first thing on her list.
Chapter Four
Rupe pawed the ground with a snort. He lowered his head to sniff along the dirt around some huge oak and beech trees.
He stood on the border between his and Miss Blond’s houses, near a rumbling creek that ran through his property.
What was he going to do now? It wasn’t as if he had other close women to woo. And he was running out of time. He should go find another woman, any woman. But when it came right down to it, from the moment he’d seen her get out of the hot tub and heard her laughter, he’d wanted her. No one else would do.
Maybe he could somehow drive away the young Mr. Blond. Yes, he could shake his antlers and grunt loudly at him.
Oh, yeah, that would work.
Couldn’t the curse have involved a deadlier
animal? Some cool big cat or dog? No, he had to be stuck as a ruminant.
Dammit, he was chewing his cud right now. He snapped his lips shut.
A twig snapped in the distance.
His head turned around, his body poised, ready to flee.
Mr. Blond came around a rather large oak tree dressed in camouflage, a big orange cap, and black boots. He looked up and stopped short. His mouth opened wide enough for birds to fly in.
Startled at the actual appearance of whom he’d been thinking about threatening, Rupe stopped, his legs frozen to the ground.
They stared each other down.
Until Mr. Blond’s hands twitched. And the gun clutched in them fell to the ground.
Blam.
It had been loaded. When it hit the ground, it fired, blowing a limb off a nearby tree.
“Oh, shit!” the boy called out, jumping back a few feet.
Sincerely hoping Mr. Blond had done what he’d said instead of merely cursing, Rupe glared, his heart pounding. Didn’t the kid know you shouldn’t be walking around with the safety off the gun like that? He could have blown either of their heads off.
It was too much. Rupe’s patience snapped in half.
With a loud grumble, he started off straight at Mr. Blond.
“Agghhh!” The young man yelped, taking off without grabbing for the gun lying on the ground. His hat flew off, landing in a briar bush. “Agghhh!” He reached a tree and pulled himself up as Rupe ran under the branch. Not that he would have gored him. Much.
Rupe shook his rack as the boy climbed higher in the tree. He bleated. A roar would have been nice.
Not only was Mr. Blond living with the woman Rupe lusted after, but also he had to be a fucking hunter? And not a good one. What was between him and Miss Blond, anyway?
Sidling over, he let loose a stream of urine on the bottom of the tree. The tree that stood on Rupe’s own land.
Tonight, he would have a talk with Miss Blond about Junior hunting and trespassing.
* * * * *
Rupe stomped up the short, paved walk to Miss Blond’s house, hands clenched by his side. He’d been stewing about the near miss all afternoon. And the living situation.
He pounded on her door. If he knew her name, he’d bellow. But she probably wouldn’t answer to Miss Blond.
“What?” She yanked open the door, her face scrunched in irritation, but it quickly smoothed, lowering and rising to take him all in. “M-may I help you?”
Her eyes had lit with appreciation. She smelled of cherries and vanilla up close. His cock poked out, hardening to full size. Her hair glowed in the dim light of the bulbs by the door as if it were a halo. Her lush curves trembled as her arms wrapped around her middle.
“Are you going to just stand there?” She took a minute step back from him, her eyes shuttering with suspicion.
He’d been standing and staring at her. Where had his anger gone? Only one strong emotion could pump through his veins, taking over the blood, at a time. And right now, desire had cut in.
“Gill, who’s at the door?” The young man came up behind the vision. “You have company?”
Anger flew back through his body. He pointed to the kid. “I’m your next-door neighbor to the left. He was on my land.”
“What?” Gill looked back at the younger man. “He was? Were you on his land, Evan?” A catch came into her voice.
Evan shook his head vigorously back and forth. “You told me the boundary was the creek. I stayed on this side of it.”
She turned back to Rupe. “See, he stayed on our side of it. I’m Gillian St. Charles, Mr. ...”
“I’m Rupert Donaldson, Gill.” He took a step closer to her, calling her what Mr. Blond had called her, and the name fit her. “But the creek is not the boundary. It runs entirely on my land. And I want him to stay off my land.” And far away from me.
“Does not.” Gill didn’t back away. Her head came up. She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I bought the property recently. I had it surveyed. They said the boundary was the creek bed.”
“They were wrong.”
“You’re telling me my survey company was mistaken? That they gave me the wrong bounds when I bought?” She arched a brow at him as if daring him to agree.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And I want him to stay off my property.” He pointed to Evan. “He and the gun he has no business carting around. He doesn’t have a clue how to handle it from what I saw today.”
Evan piped up. “I know how to handle a gun.”
“Is that why you carried it around loaded today? Cocked and ready?”
Gill arched a brow at her brother.
“I did not. I was aiming for the white deer that hangs around here.”
Rupe affixed Evan with his gaze. “Did you bag him?” He didn’t mention the dropping of the gun episode. The kid would want to know how much he’d seen and would know no other human had seen it. Little hard to explain that he’d been a deer when he’d witnessed Evan’s stupidity.
Evan flushed, red moving up from his shirt to pinken his cheeks. “Not today.” Had he told Gill what had happened? Probably not.
“Mr. Donaldson.” Gill forced a smile, her voice sticky sweet, covering him in the melody of how she said his name.
“Rupert.”
“Rupert. The creek bed is the boundary of our property. Evan was hunting on my property. He has my permission.”
“He does not have mine.” Rupe folded his arms in front of his chest. When would she see reason? The little shit had been on his property, and with the bad luck Rupe had, the next shot would take him out.
“He doesn’t need it. It’s not your land.” Gill accentuated her words as though talking to someone slightly mental.
Rupe accentuated back. He was talking to someone slightly mental. Anyone who’d be with the idiot hunter had to be. “It is my land.”
“Is not.”
“Is, too.”
“Is not.”
“Is, too. I have the maps to prove it.” Rupe felt the zing of electricity all the way down to his battered tennis shoes. He’d never understood couples arguing and falling into bed together. Boy, did he ever now. Her face was hot, flushed, and her nipples poked against her shirt. He wanted to hush her mouth by exploring every inch of it. He shifted on his feet, things getting even tighter in his pants. Stuff that in her mouth, she wouldn’t be arguing. He swallowed, dryly.
“Maybe I should go?” Evan’s bemused voice made him take a step back. He almost stepped right off the stoop.
Yes. Yes, you should. “I don’t want you hunting any more on my land.”
Gill let out a sound that would have rivaled a wolf’s growl. “It’s not your land!” Her foot stomped, bouncing her chest around. He wanted to make her madder and get more bouncing.
The phone rang. Evan bounded away for it. “It’s probably for me.”
Gill and Rupe glared at each other. She made an exasperated sound. “I’ll show you the survey. I have a copy.”
He shook his head. “You’re reading it wrong.”
“Are you implying I can’t read my own property survey?” Color had sprung high in her cheeks. He wanted to touch her skin, find out if it was as hot as it looked. His hand came up, backing quickly back down. She noted the motion with a flash of irritation in her eyes. “Are you even listening to me?”
“If that’s what it says, it’s wrong. Maybe you should have your boyfriend look at it.”
“My boyfriend?” Her tone was now incredulous.
“The kid. Young for you, ain’t he, Mrs. Robinson?”
Color in her cheeks deepening, she blew out a breath. “You’re impossible.” Taking a step over the threshold, she closed the door partway behind her as if she didn’t want Evan to hear.
He cocked a grin at her. “Always. And I’ve been called much worse.”
“He’s my brother, dumbass.”
“What?” He stared at her smug look.
“Evan’s my brothe
r. He’s seventeen.”
Relief flooded his stomach and heart. “I thought he was in his twenties. But he’s still a lot younger than you.” He cringed. He knew better than to imply that a woman is old.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re more than impossible.”
Her big blue eyes looked up into his. Before she could argue and call him more names, his hand shot up to stroke her cheek. The contact singed his fingers, heat rolling between them. Her lips parted with a sigh, begging for him to taste them. His tongue could slip in so easily. Unlock like a key. He’d leaned in to do that, when steps sounded, and the door was flung wide open again.
“Gill?”
Not only was Evan an idiot with a gun, he had the worst timing in the world.
They both turned, and she took a quick step back over the threshold. The opportunity had passed. Lowering his hand, Rupe cursed silently, then moved to retreat. They’d never agree about the property line, and he wouldn’t get to kiss her with her brother there.
“I’m leaving, but have him stay off my property.” He turned, going down the steps. “And take away his gun before he shoots himself or someone else.”
“Not yours!” She called after him, which he didn’t acknowledge. Maybe he’d been wrong about her being a possible solution to his finding love problem. She was too difficult, obnoxious. He’d never make her love him in the short time he had left. No, she couldn’t be the one for him, the one to break this cursed existence.
Yet, he still wanted her.
Chapter Five
Gill watched the tall man stalk down her walk and into the woods.
“Good riddance.”
However, the spot between her thighs begged to differ. It had taken one look at him and said, “Open sesame.” It tingled with an awareness that Rupert Donaldson had been one fine specimen of man. And it wanted to get to know him better. Must be the primal reasoning that the biggest, hunkiest man gets the girl.
Her breasts ached with arousal and strained against her shirt. She hadn’t bothered with a bra. She’d seen Rupert’s eyes shoot down, the darkening of them. He must enjoy headlights on sagging boobs. Hers weren’t that saggy yet, but they weren’t as perky as they used to be.
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