For the Love of an Outlaw

by T. S. Joyce

  But a trail riding company? For tourists passing through? Heck yes.

  Reinvigorated, she closed her laptop and made her way into the kitchen, head full of ideas to get this place up and running again. She only had a week left, and it didn’t sit well with her to leave this place worse off than she found it.

  Half distracted, she browned some hamburger meat with chopped onions and added stewed tomatoes, tomato sauce, and beans, then sprinkled all the spices she wanted on top and went to work on cornbread in a cast iron skillet. She let the chili simmer for thirty minutes while that cooked, all the while planning and plotting.

  This could work.

  The door opened so fast it banked against the wall, but it wasn’t Trigger’s fault. If his surprised expression was anything to go by, the wind had kicked up and yanked it from his hand.

  She couldn’t, however, take her horrified gaze off his bloodied face. The left half was covered in crimson, and there were dark stains on the shoulder of his jacket. She yanked the chili off the stove and rushed over to him, but he winced away from her touch when she got too close to a gash on us head, right under the brim of his hat.

  “What happened?” she asked on a breath.

  “Best you don’t know.”

  Her fury was instant. She shoved him in the chest. He hadn’t even made it inside yet, but she pushed him again. He allowed it, eyes averted as he backed his way to the front porch stairs.

  “I’m right here, and you’re leaving me out,” she said. “You’re pushing me away, so how does it feel, Trig? I made you food. I spent time on it, and if you don’t eat it, I’m gonna be boiling mad. I’m trading you, though. You sit out here in the fucking cold until you decide you can talk to me like I deserve. Think real hard about this while you’re out here—there’s a girl inside that warm house who likes you and who isn’t scared by the shitstorm half of your life, who has hot food waiting in there for you and who wants to clean your face and hug you and forgive you for whatever sins you did today.” She jammed a finger at him. “Appreciate what you got, Trigger Massey, or you won’t keep it.” She strode inside and slammed that steel door as best she could, but the damn thing was heavy and thudded softly into the frame.

  Ignoring the front door, she busied herself by cutting up cornbread in that cast iron skillet. She buttered it and dished up two bowls of piping hot chili, and then she set that two-seater table and stood right by it, locked her legs, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at the door. Not three seconds later, it swung open, and there was Trig, arms locked against the frame, mouth set in a grim line, still bloody as hell.

  “Chase won’t be messin’ with you anymore.”

  “Did he do that?” she asked, gesturing to his mauled face.

  His eyes tightened at the corners. “Some of it.”

  “Did you go after the whole Darby Clan?”

  He dipped his chin once.

  She heaved a breath and licked her lips. The fury left her voice when she said, “Well, tell me you won, at least.”

  A slow, surprised smile stretched his face and reached his tired eyes. “I always win.”

  She huffed a laugh and shook her head. “Ridiculous man, is this what I should expect from a life with you?”

  His grin faltered, but came back softer. “Yeah. It won’t change. I am who I am.”

  “If you won’t budge, then you can’t ask me to change a single thing either.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. If you changed anything about yourself, you wouldn’t be perfect anymore.”

  “Oh, I’m far from perfect.”

  Trig stalked her, boots clomping on the wood floors, scattering chunks of snow as he approached. He took off his hat and tossed it on the couch and shrugged out of his stained jacket.

  “I eat too many children’s snacks,” she admitted through a grin.

  “I love children’s snacks.” Another step closer.

  “If it’s cold, I’ll probably wear socks while we’re having sex.”

  “We can match.” Another step.

  “I had three pet goldfish die on me in a year, and I think I’m bad at raising animals.”

  Trig frowned. “Okay, that we’re going to have to work on. Don’t touch any of my livestock with those fingers of death.”

  When she swatted him, he chuckled, then pulled her into a hug and lifted her feet off the floor. Her back cracked in several places from the pressure, but it felt good.

  “I want a baby reindeer and seven baby goats, and I’m going to dress them in pajamas and make them all social media pages and they will be my hairy children.”

  Trig snorted. “Not until you learn to stop killing everything,” he murmured against her ear, resting the uninjured side of his face against hers. “Babe…I’m sorry.”

  “Well, do it right and apologize properly. Tell me why.”

  “I got scared and I ran. With you, I feel different, and for a man like me, it’s dangerous. I need a steady life, or as steady as it can be, and you came in here like a stick of dynamite and blew everything I thought I wanted to hell.”

  “I gotta short fuse,” she teased.

  “Woman, no one’s arguing that. You gotta temper on you. I fuckin’ love it. I love watching you straighten that little spine of yours, stick them tits out, chin up, glaring your prey in the eye, and daring them to talk back to you. Stubborn, territorial, moody, beautiful, feisty, flawless woman. I wish you weren’t such a perfect match. I wish you couldn’t manage me so well, because then next week would be easier.”

  “When I leave?”

  His beard scratched against her soft cheek as he nodded. “I’ve been counting down already. I get sicker by the day, and steering clear of you only makes it worse. Feels like I just wasted our time.”

  “I have an admission, and I don’t want you to look at me while I say this because I’ll chicken out. But you should know what running does to me. You should know so you can fix it. I know you don’t want to change anything and you’re a creature of habit. You’re set in your ways. But I also know you care about me and you don’t want to hurt me. So, this is how you stop that. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  She inhaled deeply and hugged his neck tighter, legs still dangling off the ground as she clung to him, so she crossed her snow boots at the ankles and began to admit something really hard. “Do you know what always hurt the worst when I lived here before?”

  “Your dad leaving,” he guessed.

  “No. That did hurt, but it was how everybody treated me after. Colton was struggling to take care of me when he was still a kid himself. I understand better now what he went through, but it doesn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be there for me like I wanted. I was lonely. No mom, no dad, my brother was checked out. And then everyone around me treated me like I was on the outside. Like there was this big secret everyone knew but me.”

  “And now you know it.”

  “But can you imagine what that feels like, Trig? To be shut down on?”

  He pressed his lips to her cheek and then nuzzled her right there. “Yes. The whole town shut down on me.”

  “Yep, I can see that. So now you can understand how hurt I get when you shut down on me. What it feels like. You should try harder not to let me feel that way. You started building something really good with me, and then you slammed the door and went cold, and dammit, Trig, I’m already scared. You get that, right? This is scary.”

  “I won’t hurt you. I won’t let the animal hurt you.” There was undeniable oath in his voice.

  “It’s not the animal I have a problem with. It’s the man. I think about you too much. Even admitting this stuff feels like weakness. I’ve never shared myself with another person. And all I want to do is hole up in my little shell like the clam I’ve become and block you out. But that’s not courageous. It’s cowardly, running from something that’s real.”

  “You’re scared of liking me?” he asked low, rocking her gently as his hand cupped the back of her h
ead as though she was precious.

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  “I’m scared, too. Not for me. For you. I want better than what I can give you. I want to be better, and I get scared I won’t cut it. Look around, Ava. This is the life I can give you. Cracked log walls, a leaky roof, me out working the ranch all day. Fighting because the animal in me needs it. A steel door to keep me out of here when I’m not in my right mind. Your brother living next door with a half-rabid squirrel. Danger every time we go into town. Danger here. An animal I can’t control like I want. And then I think about…what happens in a year, or two years, when you miss your old life. When you got my baby in your arms and you’re watching him Change for the first time, and it rips your guts out because it hurts him every single Change. And you gotta watch your baby fall apart over and over. You gotta watch your man do the same. My mom couldn’t handle it. She left when I was three because she couldn’t deal with the animals. Couldn’t deal with the dangerous life. What happens when that claw mark on your shoulder becomes two. Or three. Until you’re painted in them? What happens if…” He swallowed hard.

  “What happens if what?”

  “What happens if I make you an animal like your brother? If I make you an animal like me? I know what that kind of guilt feels like, and it’s enough to buckle a man. I carry that guilt for Colton, but carrying it for you, too? I know what I can and can’t handle, and hurting you?” He shook his head, back and forth, back and forth, the roughness of his beard a stark contrast to her own sensitive cheek. His voice came out a raspy whisper as he said, “I can’t.”

  She bit her lip so it wouldn’t quiver and expose how weak she’d become around him. Ava found steel for her voice when she lifted her chin and said, “None of this is your choice to make. It’s mine. I’m not your mom. Your first mistake is in thinking I’m like any other girl. I don’t pick my people easily, Trig. But when I do, I’m in it. Give me the next week, no running. Show me what life here could be like so I can make a good decision and not live with regrets or what-ifs. Tell me everything. All the grit in your life. For once, just be completely open with someone. You can trust me. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll take your secrets to my grave. It’s how I’m built. Make me happy, and I’ll make you happy, and we’ll see if I fit here or in my old life best. Deal?”

  Trig clamped his teeth gently on her neck, holding there for a moment before he rumbled, “Deal.”

  “Good. Now go clean the gore off your face before the chili gets cold. I’m hungry.”

  He set her down and kissed her. He tasted slightly of iron, and she had to wipe the side of her lips because Trig had smeared her.

  “House rule number two because, hell yes, I’m making rules now, too,” she called after him as he sauntered into the hallway toward the bathroom. “If you get into fights, you need to clean up before you start making out with me. I don’t want to taste blood on you.”

  “You don’t mind my rules,” he argued. “We told you to stay inside at nights, and what did you do that very first night? You were standing on the front porch screamin’ my name like some sort of banshee. Probably caught the attention of every predator around.”

  “Well, I was trying to catch the attention of the biggest predator. You.”

  Over the running water in the bathroom, she could hear him chuckle. “You should be running scared, Ava.”

  “I’ve decided I don’t like running much anymore,” she called as she set out napkins by their dinner. “Plus, I read in a library book you aren’t supposed to give a predator your back.”

  “Give me your back, and I’ll fuck you from behind.”

  Ava’s eyes went round, but by the time he came back in, drying his face with a dark gray washcloth, her smile was downright Grinch-worthy. She liked his filthy mouth. And now he looked a lot less like a corpse and a lot more like the man she was falling in love with.

  “I have ideas,” she murmured.

  He pulled out her chair for her. “I bet you do.”

  He liked that she was a go-getter. She could tell by the way his eyes danced when he said that.

  “I got a call from a lady about a trail ride today.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wherever this is going, it’s a no. Colton and I tried that before, and it was a nightmare.”

  “Why?” she drawled.

  “Because running a business is not for me. Getting people to actually pay was a pain in the ass, Colton was in charge of packing the animals with provisions, but he’s horrible at it, and on each of the three rides we conducted, I was worried I was going to Change at any moment and eat the riders like little people-kabobs. It almost happened on the last one. For the safety of unsuspecting tourists, we put that business to rest.”

  “Okay, those are the problems, and here are some solutions. Running a business isn’t so bad if you have some training on how to do it. We could set up your Two Claws Trail Rides as an LLC, set up a way to pay on the website, do half down at reservation and half due before you leave on the trail. I can teach Colton to pack because organization is totally my thing, and with the Changing thing? Well, you’re going to have to figure that out. Maybe be a pinecone for a whole day before a ride so you don’t have the urge or something.”

  “I’m not a pinecone shifter.” He bit off half of his buttered cornbread and stared at her thoughtfully. “What’s an LLC?”

  “I could get it totally set up where no one could steal your company name and you could get paid by customers under that name for tax purposes and you could have a professional, trademarked trail-riding company. I can have a logo made and build from there. Because I’ve seen what you make at auction on a good year with a full herd, and you don’t even have a full herd of cattle this year. It won’t even cover expenses to keep this place running. You’ll sink within the year if you don’t plug up the leak in your boat and start bringing income through the ranch. It’ll take me two days to set up the business. I can revamp the website, look at provisions you need for trail-rides, the works. We can do this right.”

  “We,” he repeated.

  “Yeah. Like a team. Team Save-This-Place.”

  “You really think we can?”

  “Yeah, but you have to make a big move, one that’s a little risky, or this place, and your dad’s legacy, will fold.”

  “I ate the cattle.”

  “I eat cattle all the time. I love steaks, hamburgers, hamburger helper, and barbecue,” she said, ticking them off with her fingers. “And I also like—”

  “No. Ava, listen to what I’m saying. I actually killed a good part of my own herd. I had no control. And you’re asking me to risk human lives to do these trail rides.”

  “The other day I watched your eyes turn bright gold, you smelled like fur, and you had a growl in your chest. A man turned into a mountain lion and attacked me. And what did you do?”

  “Shot him in the ass-meat with your brother’s Colt Single Action Army?”

  “Well…yes, you did, but that’s not what I meant. You stayed human.”

  Trig stopped eating and angled his head, frowning at her. Slowly, he set his spoon down and leaned back in his creaking chair, crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Huh.”

  “I would say you had plenty going on that could’ve provoked the werewolf, but you didn’t let him out. Can you name a situation on a trail ride that would be worse than watching a shifter try and Turn the girl you like?”

  Trig scratched his jaw, his beard making a raspy sound under his fingertips. “No. The woods and predators, I can handle. And I’m not a werewolf.”

  “And you’ll have Colton on the rides, and he didn’t turn into a beaver in the bar.”

  “We aren’t beaver shifters.”

  “It’s okay to be a porcupine.”

  “Nope.”

  “If you want to teamwork this and try to save this place, you have to step out of your comfort zone. That means self-improvement, bring the bumble bee under control.”

  With the tiniest
eyeroll, Trig shook his head and muttered, “I’ll talk to Colton about it.”

  “So you’re going to think about it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll handle all the paperwork and advertising. You try and control your ferret.”

  “Are you having fun?”

  “Kind of. Elephant? Shrew? Newt? But not a tiny newt, a cool one the size of Godzilla? Octopus, and you have the power to strangle your enemies and open tight lids on jars.” He was going to get a sore neck from shaking it so much. “Frog? Ocelot? Wereparakeet? Meercat? River Dolphin?”

  “Grizzly bear.”

  “Grriiizzly bear.” Holy hell. “As in brown bears? As in the ones with the paws the size of small cars?”

  “Not quite. Come here. I want to show you something.”

  Numbly, she stood and followed him out onto the front porch where he grabbed her hand and pressed it over the deep carvings on the log walls, just below that wishing number, 1010. Even with her fingers spread as far as she could, she didn’t even come close to how wide those marks were.

  “Oh, my gosh,” she whispered, utterly stunned by the sheer size of that paw.

  “Joking aside, Ava. I really am a monster, and you can’t ever forget that. Not even for a second. Dinner can wait. We need this daylight,” he rumbled, disappearing inside as she stared at the injured, splintered wood. Trig returned with a rifle and was emptying a handful of bullets into his jacket pocket. “Go put on some warm clothes. I’m taking you on date number two.”

  “What’s date number two?”

  With the sound of metal on metal, Trig shoved a bullet into the chamber. “Teaching you how to kill me.”

  His boots made hollow sounds on the porch as he walked away, and before he could hurry her along, she took her fingertips off the deep claw marks and touched the wishing number. And under her breath, she said, “I wish I never have to pull the trigger on Trigger.”