Operation Wolf: Hunter ~ Sedona Venez

by Venez, Sedona

It must have been that damn bump on the head.

  It had fucked with me, which explained my brazen reaction, as well as why I’d been seeing things yesterday when I looked into his eyes.

  As for his initial reaction to my advance . . . well, he was a man. He’d have to be dead not to respond in some way when a naked woman draped herself all over him, especially when that woman looked like me. I knew men liked my tight, curvy figure and thought I had a pretty face. Usually, that was the only reason men needed to fuck. But Hunter had clearly come to his senses before we went all the way, and the truth was, I should be thankful. I didn’t need to get involved with a man I’d be leaving in a matter of weeks.

  Yes, that’s right. I should be thankful. Not offended that he’d tossed me on my ass like a hot potato and practically sprinted out of the room like a track star.

  Yes. I am fucking thankful.

  The aroma of frying bacon wafted through the crack in the door to tease my nostrils, and my stomach rumbled.

  Better go and face the music. Grumpily, I tossed the sheets off me. I rummaged through the closet for a serviceable pair of jeans and a T-shirt that I wouldn’t mind getting dirty. Then I stomped my way to the bathroom to take a long, cold shower.

  We’re going to be working together for the next month, so we’d better set some clear boundaries.

  CHAPTER 9

  Hunter

  THE FAINT CREAK OF the floorboards above told me that Kia was up, and I bit back a groan. I’d been hoping that she’d sleep in because of her head injury and that I’d be gone by the time she woke up.

  Guess it’s a good thing I made enough breakfast for two.

  I flipped the bacon on the griddle.

  A few minutes passed before Kia came down the stairs, looking absolutely stunning, and the way she fit in her blue jeans . . .

  Hell. There damn sure ain’t no curves like hers on the back roads in Bramblebush.

  I scowled. Kia was nothing but temptation, and now I found myself wishing she had stayed in her room to rest and heal. I really didn’t need her help to get the ranch into working order. I had plenty of money to hire help if I needed it. But the other part of me was relieved she’d made it through the night. I hadn’t dared go back into the room to check on her again, and I’d felt guilty about leaving her alone the rest of the night. But there was no way I would be able to resist her advances again, especially since my inner wolf was so eager to fuck her. The bastard had berated me endlessly for walking away from her.

  Gathering up the platters of scrambled eggs and bacon to bring to the table, I turned to see Kia hovering in the doorway, uncertainty written all over her face. Her cheeks flushed as I met her eyes, and with some satisfaction, I noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

  She didn’t get any sleep either.

  “Sleep well?” she finally asked huskily.

  “Yep.”

  I’d jerked off three times last night, and it still hadn’t been enough. My body continued to burn with the need to be inside her and only her, which frustrated me to no end. I’d tried to imagine perfect, busty blondes while I was pleasuring myself, but I had been unable to get off until I pictured Kia straddling me, her mouth crushing mine as her breasts brushed against my chest. Her bust was smaller than I usually liked—a C-cup at best, I gauged—but she more than made up for it in the ass department. The feel of her sexy ass in my hand . . .

  Biting back a curse, I ripped my attention from my lustful fantasies and stalked toward Kia. Her eyes widened, and she backed up through the doorway, no doubt thinking I was going to do something to her, but I brushed straight past her to the dining room table and started setting the food out.

  “Why don’t you help set the table?” I asked calmly, as though I weren’t trying to beat back fantasies of bending her over the dining room table, grabbing a handful of her hair, yanking her head back, and fucking her until we both went blind.

  “Yes, of course,” Kia said quickly. She fled back into the kitchen.

  It took a little longer than was probably necessary for her to fetch plates and forks, but that was okay with me. I needed the time to compose myself as well. By the time she came back in, I was almost completely calm again.

  We ate in silence for a while, the only sounds in the room the clink of silverware against plates, the crunch of bacon between teeth . . . and Kia’s heartbeat, I realized, cursing my heightened senses. It sped and slowed intermittently, like a roller coaster, and it was putting me on edge.

  “Why don’t you spit out whatever it is you’re thinking?” I said flatly, picking up another slice of bacon with my bare fingers. “I can tell you’re nervous about something.”

  “I’m not nervous,” she snapped, but she didn’t meet my eyes. “I . . .” She took a breath and then looked up at me. “I just wanted to apologize for last night. It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again.”

  What the fuck? It was a mistake?

  I should have been relieved. I’d been thinking much the same thing, but internally, I flinched, the words more painful than they had any right to be.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I told her. Then I took a bite of my bacon and chewed. “I know you weren’t thinking straight. You probably thought I was someone else.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  We both knew it wasn’t true, but Kia seemed relieved that I was giving her an out.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “So, um, what’s the agenda for today?”

  “Not much,” I admitted, pushing back my empty plate. “I’m going to be gone most of the day, and you shouldn’t be doing any hard labor, not while you’re recovering, and especially not while I’m not around to make sure you don’t nearly kill yourself again.”

  Kia raised her chin. “I survived before you got here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, and God only knows how the hell you managed that. No, you need to take it easy and rest up today,” I told her firmly.

  “But we only have a month,” Kia protested. “I can’t just sit around here doing nothing. Surely, there’s something I can do while you’re gone.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” I said, tossing her a shit-eating grin. I stood up and cleared my plate from the table. “I’m definitely going to be putting you through your paces tomorrow, so I suggest you take full advantage of your rest day while you still can because you’ll be cursing me to hell and back tomorrow.” I turned away, heading for the kitchen again.

  “Yeah, right,” Kia said, belligerence in every syllable. “I’m no stranger to hard work.”

  I didn’t answer, and when I came back through the door, a scowl marred her pretty face.

  “Where are you going?” she called as I headed for the front door.

  I turned back to her for a moment, my expression dead serious now. “I’m going to find the sorry souls who used to work for Old Daniel and make them tell me what the hell happened here.” I couldn’t believe that they hadn’t had some kind of hand in the ranch’s decline, and I was going to get to the bottom of this mess today.

  A foul mood settling in from the lack of sleep, sexual frustration, and the task that awaited me, I climbed into my truck and drove off, looking forward to giving someone a good ass-kicking.

  CHAPTER 10

  Kia

  I PEEKED THROUGH THE living room curtains as I watched Hunter get into his truck and drive off. I waited until the truck reached the end of the road and disappeared through the gate before I rushed out the door and over to the shed near the chicken coop in the backyard I had noticed a few days ago but had yet to investigate.

  To hell with what Hunter had said about taking a rest day. I was feeling a lot better and perfectly healthy—aside from a case of sleep-deprivation, and that was nothing new to me. As a fashion photographer with tight deadlines, I’d spent many a late night slaving away in my darkroom, developing film either for my clients or for my own personal projects. Just because I wasn’t a rancher didn’t mean I wasn’t a hard worker. I was
an independent woman, for God’s sake, and I didn’t need a man to tell me what to do.

  It took me a few tries to get the shed door open and a trip back to the house to grab a broom and beat away some of the cobwebs that had formed in the doorway. But finally, I made it inside, and to my delight, I found the cans of paint and stain I was looking for. I had to make three trips to grab everything I needed, but eventually, I was standing in the living room with buckets, rollers, brushes, and cans littered all around the front door.

  I spent a few minutes sorting out all the colors, deciding what I wanted where, and then I rolled up my sleeves, preparing to move the furniture out of the living room. While I knew I would be a fool to attempt to do anything out in the fields or stables without Hunter, I was no stranger to interior design, and I was determined to prove to Hunter that I could get something done without a man around.

  Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the dolly I’d found in the shed, dusted it off, and got to work.

  CHAPTER 11

  Hunter

  MY FIRST STOP WAS Lucy’s on Main, the only diner in Bramblebush and the town watering hole during the day. I ordered a cup of coffee and a doughnut. Then I proceeded to ask around about Daniel and who had been working on the ranch before he had passed away.

  The Bramblebush townsfolk were always friendly. They were happy to see me after I’d been away so long, but their cheery smiles disappeared pretty quickly when I started asking about Daniel. They told me that, as the rancher had gotten older, he’d started going crazy. Got real paranoid, they said, as if someone was out to get him. He’d fired all his ranch hands except one and cut his housekeeper’s days down to once a week, claiming he couldn’t trust anyone to be around him anymore. I managed to get the name of the housekeeper and the ranch hand and left the diner, troubled by what I’d heard.

  Did Daniel really go crazy?

  I got back into my truck and drove away. It certainly sounded as if he had lost it.

  Why, in his right mind, would he have fired all his staff and let his ranch go downhill? Simply because he had been paranoid that one of them might hurt him?

  Or was it more that Daniel had been paranoid he might hurt them? Had he sent them away for their own safety?

  I could understand that. For a long time, I’d been afraid to go near my ranches or spend much time with anyone for fear that my wolf beast would take over, and I’d hurt someone. But the two of us had formed a harmonious relationship—sex life notwithstanding—over time, to the point that I could even approach and handle animals that were instinctively afraid of my darker half.

  What had happened to Daniel to make him drive his own employees away? I doubted it had been something as drastic as turning into a hybrid wolf-shifter, but I did think Daniel had been in some kind of danger.

  It hurt my heart to think that my old friend had acted out of irrational fear and insanity and ended up destroying the ranch he’d worked so hard to build. No, more than likely, Daniel had had a good reason for what he did. And I was determined to find out what it was.

  It took me several minutes to locate the dirt road that led to the housekeeper’s cottage, located on the outskirts of town. By that time, dark clouds were starting to gather on the horizon, signaling an impending storm. The woman’s name was Carla Jones, and I remembered her from my childhood—a sunny blonde and mother of two, who always had a kind word for everyone. She’d been Old Daniel’s housekeeper when I was a child, and I guessed she’d never moved on from the job.

  Parking the car out front, I noticed that the house was small, probably no more than one bedroom, but meticulously maintained, the paint on the shutters and eaves new, and the window boxes bursting with brilliant flowers. No one came out to greet me, but I saw the green lace curtains shift slightly, and I knew from the small Ford pickup parked nearby that someone was home.

  Taking off my Stetson, I approached the door and knocked politely. “Mrs. Jones?” I called. “It’s Hunter Golden. Do you mind if I call on you for a few minutes?”

  The door opened, and Carla looked out at me through the screen door. Her blonde hair had faded to silver sometime in the last twenty years, and she had laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, but there was a haggard look about her and a watchfulness to her dark eyes that I didn’t remember.

  “Hunter Golden,” she said slowly. Then a smile lit her face, softening some of the starkness of her features. “Oh, I remember you! You were that nice boy who always came out to keep Mr. Nash company and help him out on the ranch.” Her face fell a little at the reminder of her former employer, strengthening my suspicions that she knew something. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, see, Mrs. Jones, that’s just the thing.” I clutched the brim of my hat in both hands, trying to come off as contrite and as unassuming as possible, no small feat at six foot two and two twenty. “I’ve been over at Old Daniel’s ranch, trying to straighten things out after his death, and I’ve noticed some mighty strange things. I was hoping to talk to you to see if you could help clear up a few things for me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Mrs. Jones pressed her lips together, casting her gaze away from me. “I’m sure you’ve gotten plenty of information from the townsfolk already.”

  “Yes, but I’d like to ask you anyway and see if I can uncover a few more details.”

  “I really don’t think I have anything new to tell you,” Mrs. Jones started to say. Then, she jumped as a clap of thunder shook the sky.

  “Please, won’t you at least let me in for a cup of coffee?” I pleaded, grinning inwardly at the perfect excuse. “I’d hate to be caught up in the storm that’s coming. It’s bound to be a doozy.” I leaned around her a little bit, sniffing the air. “Is that your peach cobbler I smell? You always did make the best in town.”

  “Oh, all right,” she relented, smiling a little. There was nothing like appealing to a woman’s vanity to get what you wanted. “You can wait the storm out in my parlor for a few minutes.”

  She stepped aside to let me in and waited until I wiped my boots on the mat before taking my coat. “Why don’t you have a seat?” she said, pointing to the green velour love seat situated next to a matching recliner and couch, all arranged around a glass coffee table. “I’ll go fetch you a nice slice of cobbler.”

  I glanced at the bright, floral-patterned carpet as Mrs. Jones quickly escaped into the kitchen, and I wiped my boots again before sitting down. I looked around at the cream-colored wallpaper and still life paintings that decorated the walls and paused to admire some of the knickknacks littering the brass mantel above the fireplace. Everything was clean and neat and in its proper place, which I imagined made sense, as Mrs. Jones undoubtedly had little else to do but clean, bake, and rearrange the furnishings.

  She came back with the cobbler she had reheated and a mug of steaming black coffee. “Sugar and creamer are right here,” she told me, gesturing to the two small silver containers on the coffee table.

  “Thank you.” I ignored both the sugar and creamer and sipped the strong black coffee, which was piping hot. Not wanting to lay right into her and scare her off, I took a bite of cobbler, closing my eyes and savoring the dessert. “Just as good as I remember,” I said, smiling.

  “Why, thank you.” Mrs. Jones beamed with pride. “I win a prize for it every year at the County Fair.”

  “I’ll just bet you do.”

  Rain started tapping on the roof, lightly at first and then turning into a stronger staccato. We made small talk for a few minutes, and I learned that her husband had passed away a few years ago, and her children had both moved out of state, searching for more lucrative pastures.

  The rain was coming down in earnest now, drumming incessantly on the rooftop and drenching the lawn outside.

  “So,” I said when my plate and mug were both empty, “tell me about what went on with Daniel these last couple of years.”

  Mrs. Jones glanced toward the window, and I raised an eyebrow. There was no way anyone was
out there, eavesdropping in this downpour.

  “What is it that you’re so afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” Mrs. Jones said defensively. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Mr. Nash was just getting senile in his old age. He was probably on some kind of medication that caused his paranoia, and that was why he fired so many of us. I don’t know what else there is to say about it.”

  “I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe that,” I said gently but firmly. “The Daniel I knew never would have let the ranch go to hell. It was his pride and joy. And I know he wouldn’t have willingly put so many people out of work. There has to be some kind of reason beyond that.”

  The former housekeeper sighed. “Well, I did notice that Mr. Nash got awfully tightfisted,” she told me. “He started getting on my case about buying less food or cheaper cuts of meat when I went to town, and I noticed he would wait until the last possible moment on a lot of fencing repairs. Johnny Heller, the only ranch hand he kept on, begged him to increase his hours, so he could do more work on the ranch, but Mr. Nash wouldn’t hear of it. He worked his fingers to the bone, trying to make up for the loss of three hands, but he couldn’t keep up, and things started going downhill real fast.”

  “So, he was having money problems,” I mused. I chewed on this piece of information for a few moments. “Do you have any idea why? Was there anything that happened before he started firing his workers?”

  Mrs. Jones glanced to the window again before answering, “I really can’t say that there was—or at least, not right around the time he started getting so tightfisted,” she said, her voice dropping down to barely above a whisper.

  I frowned. Who the hell does she think is listening?

  “But about a year before it happened, a man came to the ranch, trying to get Mr. Nash to sell.”

  “Sell? You mean, the ranch?” My jaw dropped. “Old Daniel never would have done something like that.”

  Mrs. Jones pressed her lips together. “You’d be right about that,” she said tightly. “He refused to sell. Took up his shotgun and damn near chased the man off his property when he wouldn’t let up. Served him right too. It’s not polite to badger a man so.” Her face fell a little. “But sometimes, I wish he’d just given in.”