by Ranae Rose
It wasn’t a risk he could take in front of an audience – not for her sake or his. “I’d better get going,” he said, rising from the log and brushing flecks of bark from his uniform pants, trying to ignore the way his baser instincts screamed for a taste of her.
Violet frowned for a moment, then smoothed her facial expression, her eyes still trained on his. “Okay. See you tomorrow?”
His pulse quickened. “Of course.”
She was the first to bid him goodnight and the other Half Moon members echoed her sentiments, though without the note of regret he’d thought he’d heard in her voice. As he walked away from the fire and toward his truck, he felt her gaze between his shoulders. Or at least, he thought so. Unable to resist, he cast a glance over his shoulder.
She was looking back. For the second time that night, he forced himself to break eye contact and turned away, an ache in his chest vying for prominence with the one below his belt. He’d see her the next day, but he had a feeling it would be a long night.
* * * * *
Worms. A whole plastic container full of the slimy things, tunneling through a handful of moist dirt and tangling together. That was what Ronnie had picked up for his and Violet’s second date – not flowers or chocolate, but earthworms.
He dropped the container onto the kitchen counter and glanced quickly around his cabin, eyes searching every corner, nook and cranny as if the familiar spaces might yield something more appropriate for him to present Violet with. There had to be something … anything would be better than worms.
There was nothing he could imagine she’d want. Stifling a groan, he eyed the bait container that sat on the counter, its clear plastic sides and lid still lightly fogged from chilling in the bait store’s refrigerator. And his refrigerator, though now that he thought about it, it probably wasn’t a good idea to mention to Violet that he’d kept the worms there for a few hours after purchasing them in preparation for their fishing trip. The container was sealed shut, of course, but still… He should’ve invested in some highly realistic artificial lures instead.
Unfortunately, it was too late to make any desperate last-minute runs to the nearest fishing supply store. According to the digital clock above the stove range, Violet would arrive on his doorstep at any minute and discover him in possession of two dozen big, fat earthworms.
It no longer seemed sane that he’d invited her to go fishing – or chosen any activity that involved worms, for that matter – for their date. It wasn’t like she was squeamish – at least, she wasn’t afraid of blood or getting her hands dirty – but still… Worms on a second date, when she wasn’t even into fishing? He’d just have to chalk yesterday’s impulsive suggestion up to her allure. She drove him crazy – literally, apparently.
The sound of an engine hummed dully from outside and soon after a light rapping sounded at the door. He resolutely straightened his spine and took the first step toward the entrance. He’d made his bed, now he’d have to lie in it. But somehow, he had to make their fishing trip enjoyable, or at least bearable for her. Maybe he could salvage the day by suggesting that they go out for dinner afterward – she’d seemed to like that the evening before.
He stopped wracking his mind for ideas when he opened the door, too captivated by the sight of Violet to speak. He barely even registered the car turning around on the mountain road in front of his cabin and driving away – he couldn’t have said which member of the Half Moon Pack had dropped her off if his life had depended on it.
“Hey Ronnie,” she said, her lips quirking in a slight smile as she gazed up at him, cradling some sort of large silver foil dish in front of herself like an offering.
For a split second, he imagined a hundred earthworms crawling beneath the shiny lid, packed in dirt, a monstrous buffet of fishing bait.
“I brought honeybuns,” she said, lifting the covered dish a little higher. “I figured we could take a couple along on our fishing trip or have some when we return.”
He inhaled, breathing in the sweet aroma of honey. Though his mouth watered at the scent, he hadn’t even noticed it drifting from the baking dish at first. The sight of Violet always conjured up dreams of the sweet substance and even the real thing didn’t smell as sweet as he imagined – hoped – she’d taste.
“Bears love honey, right?” she asked, arching a brow as a shadow of uncertainty darkened her expression just a little.
“Absolutely,” he said, fighting the growl that rumbled almost undetectably in the pit of his chest, ready to escape him and scare Violet away.
She grinned. “Great. I don’t mean to brag, but I think these turned out pretty well.”
“Come on in,” he said, stepping out of her way, “and let me take that for you.”
He scooped the tray from her arms, a frisson of heat zipping down his spine and warming his entire body when her hand brushed his wrist. His wrist. He had it bad. He knew that, but knowing didn’t help. “Where’d you get the recipe?” he asked as he disguised his shiver by turning toward the counter, depositing the dish onto its surface. “Is it one of those secret family deals?” It smelled delicious and reminded him of when she’d cooked that night after the ordeal with the shifter hunters. A hunger that was partially for the honeybuns and partially for her gripped him, making his mouth water.
Violet laughed. “The internet. I looked it up this morning. But I like to think that it was passed down through somebody’s family and perfected over the generations.”
“Mmm,” he said as he caught another whiff of the dessert. Still not as sweet as he imagined Violet must be, but his stomach piped up anyway, making a sound that could’ve been described as bear-like.
Violet laughed again.
“Would you like to get into these before we leave?” he asked. “I could brew a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Sure.”
As his entire body continued to sizzle with the slow burn of desire Violet’s presence caused, he made coffee with a theatricality that bordered on the dramatic, bustling and creating noise so she wouldn’t notice when he hastily shoved the container of earthworms behind the coffeemaker, where it was hidden from plain sight.
“These smell great,” he said when he peeled back the baking dish’s foil lid, revealing two rows of plump glazed buns, half a dozen oversized treats crammed side-by-side. Their sweet, sticky scent combined with the rich aroma of coffee, inspiring his stomach to make itself heard again. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Violet, who’d settled into one of the seats at the small kitchen table and was smiling.
As he pulled a butter knife from a drawer and used it to work two honeybuns free, it became difficult to give much thought to his hunger, even with the cinnamon-sugar-and-honey aroma drifting from the baking dish.
How could he focus on anything else when Violet was sitting a few feet from him, her trim figure hugged by jeans and a casual sweater that didn’t need to be anything special to look sexy on her? Her outfit might ward off the chill, but it couldn’t deter his gaze or his imagination. Her chocolate-brown hair, blue eyes and every curve had burnt themselves into his memory the first time he’d met her a little over a month ago, when she’d arrived in the Smokies as a new addition to the Half Moon Pack.
Their dinner together the night before had amped up his desire, and then there was the time he’d spent by her side at the fire Jack had built. Now, being around her made him feel like his carefully-maintained veneer of restraint was unraveling, threatening to reveal the animal instincts that raged inside him, demanding to know whether she was the one. The night before he’d been driven crazy by thoughts of her until he’d… Well, that was something she’d probably be happier not knowing about, much like how he’d kept the worms in the fridge.
“Here you go.” He set a plate down in front of her on the table, along with a fork. “The coffee will be ready in just a few minutes.” He picked up his own plate and lowered it onto the table, setting it at the place across from Violet. The coffeemaker bubbled an
d hissed as hot liquid dripped into the carafe, each drop filling it a little more, much like a familiar sense of longing was filling Ronnie. Each moment that he spent in Violet’s presence was another drop of desire, each look and smile she gave him pushing him that much further toward the inevitable point where he just wouldn’t be able to take it anymore.
The homey sounds of brewing coffee were soon joined by the electronic melody of Ronnie’s cellphone. Reluctantly, he rose from the table and went to the counter where he’d left it plugged into the wall, charging.
“Work,” he said, barely pausing to glance at the number before returning his gaze to Violet. “Sorry. This shouldn’t take long.”
“It’s no problem.”
He swiped a finger across the screen, answering the call. As he spoke with one of his superiors, he didn’t dare glance toward Violet. The sight of her made his voice grow rougher as he struggled not to growl with desire, and he’d put years of effort into seeming perfectly human when interacting with his fellow rangers. But it was even harder to resist growling with frustration when the purpose of the call became clear. When he concluded the conversation, the coffee hadn’t even finished brewing yet and Violet sat, waiting politely. When her blue eyes met his, his gut twisted with regret. “I have to go into the ranger station.”
“Is something wrong?” she asked, her brow furrowing slightly.
It was no wonder she was concerned. The violent melee that had made her more irresistible than ever was barely a couple weeks past. That particular nightmare had been caused by a group of shifter hunters who’d been – thank God – exterminated. Still, there was no denying that the members of the Half Moon Pack and Roaring Water Tribe alike had been on edge since the ordeal. “Nothing serious. I forgot to complete some paperwork on the last day of my shift. I just have to go in and finish filling it out.”
“Oh.” Her pretty pink lips quirked in a momentary frown and he fought the urge to curse. This development was an even worse date-killer than the worms.
“I won’t be gone too long,” he promised. “An hour, maybe an hour and fifteen minutes. There’ll still be plenty of time to fish afterward, if you still want to.”
“Okay. Do you want me to head home and come back?”
“No, I wouldn’t want you to have to trek over all that mountain terrain and then turn right back around. You’d hardly have time to make it there and back, let alone rest between trips. If you want to go home, I can drop you off and pick you back up. But you’re also welcome to make yourself at home here.”
He would’ve liked to invite her to come with him, and would have if he’d been going anywhere but work. At least he wouldn’t be gone long. Maybe the errand would give him some time to cool down and get a handle on his thoughts. The night before, he’d hoped it had been the fireside setting that had nearly sent his restraint up in flames, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Maybe it was just his imagination, but her rosy cheeks seemed to go a little pinker. “If you’re sure that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay. I’ll hurry back. Help yourself to the coffee, or anything else here.”
“Thanks. I’ll definitely have a cup of coffee. I might even go for a little walk. I love autumn here – it’s mellower than fall in Alaska and the scenery is gorgeous.”
A little of the tension inside Ronnie eased. She was staying – despite his blunders, the day was still salvageable. As long as she didn’t discover the container of worms behind the coffeemaker while he was gone, that was.
* * * * *
Violet languished in the kitchen until the sound of Ronnie’s truck motor was no longer audible, even to her sensitive ears. Then, sinking back a little further against her chair, she breathed a sigh as tension began to leave her, escaping so slowly that she could feel her heart beat as she closed her eyes and let visions of Ronnie dance across the back of her eyelids. For some reason, she always pictured him in his uniform, though he looked great in anything. The evening before, she’d maintained a constant, embarrassing blush as she’d eaten dinner and then sat by the fire with him, unable to stop admiring the way his uniform showed off his muscular frame.
Today he wore jeans and a flannel unbuttoned over a t-shirt. The fabric had looked so soft and had clung to the muscles beneath as he’d made coffee. She could just imagine slipping her hands beneath the plaid fabric and smoothing them over his sides, so firm – and warm, surely – beneath a thin veneer of cotton.
Well, almost. It was easy to imagine how delightful it might feel – too easy – but it was difficult to imagine working up the courage to try such a brazen move. Being around Ronnie made her feel like there just wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. When he was near, she was ridiculously aware of her breathing, her heartbeat, her every word and the dumb, breathless laughter that kept escaping her. Why couldn’t she stop doing that? She didn’t have a seductive bone in her body, but boy, could she have used one. Even if she was waiting for him to make the first move, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to breathe normally when he was around, or to seem intelligent – maybe even sexy.
Opening her eyes, she stood and pushed back her chair, repositioning it at the edge of the table as she turned her gaze toward the backdoor, which rested between two mini-panoramic windows that granted her a view of the autumn forest that stretched behind the cabin, a gold and crimson wonderland. Ronnie’s home was gorgeous, smaller but nicer than the rental cabin she lived in with her sister and three other packmates.
But then, maybe she thought that just because it was his. Every little thing had been chosen by him and reminded her of him. She took in each detail of the kitchen, from the still-bubbling coffeemaker to the sparkling-clean stovetop to the little black bear-shaped magnet on the fridge. She smiled at it before turning to survey a short hallway that boasted three doors.
All of them were closed, leaving her to guess where they might lead. One of them had to be the entrance to Ronnie’s bedroom. As for the other two, one was probably a bathroom and the other a closet or maybe an extra bedroom. She didn’t dare explore. Regardless of what Ronnie had said, she didn’t feel at home. Standing alone in his kitchen and eyeing up his bedroom door sent a volley of butterflies racing through her stomach, prompting her to press a hand to her middle to suppress their fluttering.
She’d be more at home outdoors. Here, his scent permeated everything, intoxicating and too strong to be masked by even freshly-brewed coffee. If she was going to make it through their second date – that was what it was, wasn’t it? – she needed to get some fresh air while she had the chance. She made her way to the backdoor, leaving a freshly-brewed pot of coffee behind. Maybe she’d have a cup when she got back, after she’d relaxed a little.
The forest was only a few steps from the stoop. It was colorful and aromatic – just what she needed. Half-bare deciduous trees, beautifully full pines and their shadows enveloped her as she stepped into the woods, fallen leaves crunching beneath her feet as she trod lightly. The Great Smoky Mountains were so gorgeous that she’d already begun to grow used to them, but as she wandered deeper into the forest, her heartbeat slowing as she was immersed in the quiet calm of the wilderness, it was impossible to forget that she’d left Half Moon territory behind and now walked in bear country.
* * * * *
“You never forget to fill out paperwork.” Hargrove, a familiar sight in his ranger’s uniform, pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose as Ronnie walked through the door.
Leaving the cool autumn breeze behind in exchange for the overly-warm interior of the ranger station was an unwelcome change. The absence of the fresh autumn air was like the absence of Violet’s presence – he craved the outdoors and freedom like he craved her smiles and the sound of her voice. Most of all, he craved the afternoon he’d planned for them both – hours spent under the forest canopy together. Alone.
Maybe the worms had been a bad idea, but the drive through the mountains had convinced him that the scenery would be romantic enough
and the air just cool enough to justify keeping her warm as he’d longed to the night before. All he had to do was dot a few i’s and cross a few t’s first.
“Well, I’m here to finish it now.” Ronnie held out a hand and Hargrove relinquished his grip on a small stack of forms, bound at the corner with a silver paperclip.
“What’s up?” Hargrove prodded as Ronnie dug a pen out of his pocket and began to write, his hand flying over the page in a barely-tidy scrawl. Five minutes and he’d be on his way back to Violet.
“Day off,” Ronnie grunted, as if Hargrove didn’t already know. “Gonna do some fishing.”
“No, I mean what’s up with the paperwork?” Hargrove said, leaning across the desk and casting a shadow across the report Ronnie was signing. “Were you in some kinda hurry to get out of here on Friday evening – got a girlfriend or somethin’?”
Ronnie spared Hargrove a glance and was greeted by the sight of a mile-wide grin. “Maybe.” His own lips threatened to betray him by returning the expression. He carefully smoothed his features. Violet wasn’t his girlfriend, but she just might be destined to be much more, and if he was wrong about that, Hargrove’s opinion would be the least of his worries.
Hargrove leaned back in his chair, rolling several inches backward, and howled. Actually howled, loudly and crazily enough that Ronnie just might have mistaken him for a member of the Half Moon Pack if he’d been outdoors.