by Liz Isaacson
Hazel brought the vehicle to a stop, and Dylan pulled the trigger. The mountain lion yowled, and he sent the other dart at it too. He had no idea if he’d hit his mark or not. The cougar disappeared from the headlight beams, and Dylan slumped against the seat.
“Well.” He exhaled. “How do we know if we got it?”
“We go looking,” Hazel said. “And the sleepers only last three hours.”
So they couldn’t wait until morning. “Maybe we should’ve waited until it was light,” he said.
“There was no guarantee that we’d ever seen that mountain lion again,” she said. “We did the right thing.” She relaxed her grip on the steering wheel and blew out her breath. “So let’s go find it.” She turned and their eyes finally met. A slow grin cascaded across her delicate features, and Dylan found himself returning it.
“There’s never a dull moment with you, is there?” she asked.
He chuckled, because he was anything but exciting. “Just wait,” he said. “There’s a birthday party for Greta this weekend.”
Her eyebrows bunched together in cute confusion. “Greta.”
“Gonna be a real barn-raiser,” Dylan said, standing and peering into the darkness beyond the fence. He met Hazel near the driver’s side. “After all, a baby’s first birthday is usually a riot.”
An hour later, Hazel said, “Right there.”
Dylan swung the vehicle in the direction of her finger, and sure enough, there was a mass holding down the grass. He stopped a healthy distance away, the cougar in the direct line of his headlights.
“Is it safe?”
“I’d say so,” she said. “He made it pretty far, but he’s down now.”
Dylan got out of the side-by-side, adjusting the shotgun he’d been wearing since firing the dart gun. He didn’t want to take any chances with his life—nor Hazel’s. She hadn’t questioned the presence of the weapon again, and he led the way, the gun poised and ready to shoot.
A low growl filled the air, and he stopped short.
“It’s snoring,” she whispered. She unzipped something, and went to go around him.
“Hazel,” he reprimanded.
“It’s fine,” she said. “It’s out cold, but it could wake at any time. Let’s move fast.”
Dylan didn’t know what needed to be done, so he stood over the cougar with the gun pointed at it while she made short work of a patch of hair on its shoulder. She fitted something into what looked like a tube with a flat end, and she held it right against the animal’s shoulder and leaned into it with all her weight as she depressed a trigger.
She grunted, and the cougar’s arm flinched a little. She straightened and backed up fast, saying, “Done,” in a slightly triumphant tone.
Dylan stared at her. “That was….” He knew what he wanted to say—hot—but he felt like it would be inappropriate. “Incredible.” She was incredible. She’d gotten right up to that cougar, and asleep or not, his heart was still pounding in fear and anticipation.
“We don’t want to be here when it wakes up.” She gestured for him to step away. “Oh, and it’s a girl. Could be a mama or something.”
Dylan hurried back to the vehicle with her, but he didn’t put the gun in the back. “Well, we don’t want her teaching her cubs how to destroy our fences and take down our cows.”
“No,” Hazel murmured. “We don’t.”
Back at the cabin, she paced from one door diagonally to the other. “I can’t believe it,” she kept saying. Now that the adrenaline had worn off and they were safe, Dylan had crashed on the couch he liked best, third from the front.
Hazel, on the other hand, seemed more hyped than ever. “I mean, a real cougar sighting, right here in Gillespie County!” She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “It’s unbelievable.”
“There have been cougar sightings here before,” he said, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back. It was only ten o’clock, but considering that his day started before the sun rose, his exhaustion was normal.
“Supposed sightings,” she said. “We got pictures and actually put a tracker on one.” The couch cushions jostled as she sank next to him. “Thank you.” Her hand trailed over his, and he jerked his eyes open.
“Thank you? For what?”
“For letting me come out here with you.” Her dark honey eyes sparkled with heat, with mischief, with excitement. Maybe all three. He wasn’t sure. “I just put a tracker on a cougar.” A laugh slipped from her mouth, and Dylan wanted to kiss those lips as strongly now as he ever had.
“Are you gonna call it in?” she asked.
“In the morning,” he said, closing his eyes again. “Cowboys go to bed early, sweetheart.”
She lifted his arm and snuggled into his side. “Is that so?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, the shape of her beside him welcome and comforting.
“Oh, all right,” she said, her voice softening “What time do we get up?”
“I think the herd will be all right,” he said. “So we probably don’t need to be out there at dawn to see what’s been attacking them.”
“Still could be coyotes.” Her tone suggested she was coming off her high.
“Could be.”
She cuddled closer, and Dylan gripped her shoulder to keep her there, happy to share this cabin with her when company usually bothered him. Her breathing evened before his did, and he silently pressed his lips to the top of her head, hoping to be able to share a real kiss with her very, very soon.
Then he dreamt of cougars, coyotes, and Hazel’s liquid gold eyes.
Chapter Eight
Hazel woke, a distinct sound in her ears that she struggled to place. She sat up, the cot beneath her foreign but comfortable. She hadn’t fallen asleep here, however, and as she cocked her head to catch the sound she’d heard, a soft memory of being carried in Dylan’s strong arms and tucked into bed flitted through her mind.
He hadn’t been inappropriate. Just covered her up and snuck out the door the same way he’d come in.
“Music.” She swung her legs over the side of the cot, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. She didn’t want to take time to shower or change, not yet. Because Dylan was somewhere nearby, strumming a guitar.
She found him on the front steps, a guitar balanced on his knees, his fingers moving mindlessly while he gazed out into the dawn.
“Hey.” She sank to the step behind him, stifling a yawn. “I thought we weren’t getting up at dawn.”
“Habit,” he said, giving her a lazy look that formed into a smile.
“Did you sleep on the couch all night?” she asked, though she knew he’d carried her into her bedroom.
“I like that couch.” His fingers stilled. “Didn’t see any coyotes this morning.”
“You’ve been out already?”
“Just down about half a mile and back.”
Hazel spotted the gun standing up against the railing beside him. “We will need to tag at least one of them. They could be your poachers over the past year. It’s definitely the mountain lion that’s taken the casualties to the next level, though.” She followed his gaze out to the countryside, struck again with the beauty of this land.
They sat for a few minutes, the song he plucked an underlying accompaniment to their silence, until he said, “I called it in to Dwayne and Felicity already.”
“That’s good.” She exhaled and wrapped her arms around her knees. “So what’s on the docket for today?”
His fingers stilled. “I was thinking story time today.”
“Oh yeah?” She gave him a coy smile though a slight tremor ran through her core. “It’s only Tuesday.”
“Doesn’t have to be a long one,” he said. “And I’ll even start.”
Relief spread over her anxiety. “I like the sound of that even better.” After all, she didn’t have a whole lot of stories besides the really long one.
“Mine’s about Baby Greta.” His voice softened, and
Hazel relaxed even further. She’d already seen the evidence of his love for the little girl. It was a bit odd for a tall, tough cowboy like him to be cooing with a baby, so Hazel’s interest had been piqued.
“I’ve never considered myself a big baby guy,” he said. “But when we went to see her and May in the hospital, there was just something about that dark-haired human that captured my heart.” He spoke with a soft passion that tickled her eardrums and made her feel warm.
“So I babysit for them every chance I get, and I like to think I’m Greta’s third favorite person.”
Hazel wanted to hold his hand, but with the guitar in the way, she couldn’t. “So you want kids.”
“Oh, yeah. Loads of kids.” He cut a look at her out of the corner of his eye and started plucking again. “Maybe it’s because I only have brothers, but I just love that little girl.”
Hazel wanted kids too, but at age thirty-seven she wondered how many she could feasibly have. Certainly not loads. “That’s a nice story,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, your turn.”
Hazel’s mind blanked, except for the one name she didn’t want to speak. Peter.
“I don’t really have any stories.”
“Sure you do.” He looked fully at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze, sure she’d blurt out what she didn’t want to talk about quite yet. “What do you do when you’re not at work? I clearly dance around with babies, so you’ll have to beat that.”
A giggle started in her throat, and she let it turn into a laugh that went well with his music. “All right,” she said. “So I do a few old ladies’ hair every month. It’s fun to sit and visit with them.”
“Old ladies, huh? That’s almost as bad as babies.”
“Just on the other end of the spectrum,” Hazel said. “I like listening to them talk about their kids, their lives, their husbands.” Everything she didn’t have, she realized in that moment. She drew in a deep breath, trying to find the bravery to continue. “When I’m not doing that, I like spending time with Jason and McKayla, my two best friends, eating ice cream and planning their future together.”
Again, a future that wasn’t hers. Hazel hadn’t realized just how…future-less she was. How little she really had in her life.
“And you like your job?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah, definitely. Love my job.”
“So friends, ice cream, old ladies, and wildlife management.”
“Wow, I’ve never had my life summed up in four things before.” She wasn’t sure she liked it. Especially those four things. “I call my mom every week too,” she said. “I’m still close with my family though I left Alabama.”
“So we can add family and Texas to the list,” he said. “I think you said you loved Texas.”
“I do love Texas.” She smiled, still thinking she should have more important things on her list. “What’s on your list?”
“My brothers, my mom, my ranch family, Greta, of course, this cabin, I suppose….” He shrugged.
“Do y’all have a horse?”
“Not one of my own,” he said. His fingers stilled. “No house, no ranch, none of that.”
“And no dog either,” she teased, hoping to erase the low vein of danger that had entered his voice. Not really danger. Sadness? Regret? Anger? Maybe all of the above.
He chuckled, thankfully. “Wow, my life is really pathetic.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” She listened to the breeze pull its way through the grasses for a few seconds. “I think it’s simple, like mine.” She liked simple. It was safe. She knew what each day would bring, and she liked the routine of her life.
“Simple, huh? And simple is good?” He seemed to be genuinely asking.
“I don’t think it’s bad.” She looked at him and found a frown creasing his eyebrows. “But, since I have my own house and two dogs, I clearly win.”
Dylan’s dark blue eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again. He went back to plucking chords. “Can’t argue with that, I suppose.”
She hoped he’d start singing along with the music he produced, but he didn’t. Instead, he whistled, the notes weaving in and around the vibrations from the guitar strings in a way that made a sense of peace and comfort envelop Hazel in lazy movement.
It was a simple way to spend time together. Guitar and whistling and a few easy stories. Hazel couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed a morning quite so much, and holding his hand was the only thing that would’ve made it better.
After he filled the cabin and the entire countryside with the scent of burnt eggs, Hazel declared herself the cook for the rest of the week. It was nice to know that Dylan had a flaw, and while she wasn’t the greatest in the kitchen, she knew how to scramble eggs and fry sausage whereas he clearly did not.
She showered, changed, and found him sitting at the kitchen table, coloring. Surprise pulled her mouth into a smile. He was so childlike in such a refreshing way, and she joined him.
“Who’s the last woman you dated?” she asked.
His green colored pencil stuttered and snapped as he yanked his eyes to hers. “I thought story time was over.”
Hazel simply couldn’t imagine what kind of woman he’d date, and she wanted to know. “I’ve never met a man who colors.” She examined the intricate pattern he’d been working on, this coloring book more than cartoon characters.
“It’s extremely relaxing,” he said, pushing the box of colored pencils toward her. “There are three more in that stack.” He nodded toward the games, puzzles, and books at the other end of the table.
She got up to go through the pile, because they were clearly onto the indoor activity portion of the day. “Do you ever take your cowboy hat off?” she asked as she sifted through her options.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, a reminder that she should be glad their work only took them outside when it wasn’t quite so hot.
His hat landed on the table, sliding down until it hit the pile of games she’d already set aside. “Sure I do.”
She twisted to look at him, taking her time to drink in his appearance without that sensual hat. “I like you both ways.”
His eyes widened, and Hazel pressed her eyes closed. “I mean—what I meant was—” She cut off, hoping he’d save her. Or that the floor would open up and swallow her. Or that she’d go mute.
Dylan said nothing, and the scratch of his pencil didn’t sound. She looked at him, her face flaming with heat. A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, and without the hat, he was so handsome her breath stuck somewhere in her lungs.
“What did you mean?” he asked, leaning back and folding his arms across his broad chest.
“Sometimes I speak without thinking,” she said, going back to the puzzles and deciding to lay it all on the line. “But I don’t think it’s a secret I find you attractive.” She selected a puzzle that depicted Texas Hill Country and returned to the chair next to him. “Is it?” Hazel met his eye, never one to be afraid of talking about how she felt.
Dylan swallowed, clearly not as experienced as her at speaking without thinking. She reached over and curled her hand around his. “Is it?”
“No.” The word caught in his throat.
“Do you find me attractive?” She released his hand and lifted the lid on the puzzle box.
“Yes.”
A blush heated her face. “All right, then. Do you want to keep coloring, or do you want to help me with this puzzle?”
The coyotes didn’t show up that evening, nor the next morning or evening. Hazel enjoyed spending time with Dylan out in the middle of nowhere, but by the time Thursday dawned, she wasn’t sure how many more board games she could play or how many more puzzles they could put together.
Plus, she hadn’t said a word about beauty school, her wildlife management degree, or Peter. Dylan hadn’t revealed anything about why he didn’t have a ranch, a horse, a dog, or a house of his own.
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br /> “Today’s the day,” she whispered to herself as she silenced her alarm. Dylan seemed to have an internal alarm that woke him at five o’clock each morning, and she’d been using her phone so she could get up with him each morning.
The half-mile walk to where they’d spotted the coyotes that first night was invigorating first thing in the morning, with yesterday’s clothes on and her hand secured in Dylan’s. He didn’t always have a whole lot to say, and Hazel didn’t mind telling him things about her friends, her job, or her family back in Alabama.
They hadn’t spoken about their relationship and what might happen to it once they returned to normal life. They hadn’t tagged the big coyote yet, and time was running out on that. And the threat of those long stories hung over them as they set out on their walk.
He kept the gun on the side away from her, and she fiddled with her zipper pack, wondering when he’d take her hand and make everything normal between them. When he didn’t, she knew he was all wrapped up inside his mind too.
“Okay,” she said, drawing in a deep breath of the cooler morning air. “I’m going to start my long story now.”
“All right,” he murmured.
She stepped, and stepped again. And then again. She hadn’t told anyone this story who hadn’t lived through it with her. And even with Jason and McKayla, she didn’t allow them to bring it up, hash it out, help her past it.
The ground went by and they approached the area where they’d stop and go back, and Hazel still couldn’t speak.
Chapter Nine
“We used to own a ranch near San Antonio,” he said when Hazel had been silent for almost five minutes. He hadn’t planned on telling her the depths of his pathetic life after they’d made theirs lists a few days ago.
He figured “simple” meant “boring” and while Hazel still seemed keen to hold his hand, laugh with him while they played childish board games, and talk about her life, Dylan was sure as soon as they got back to civilization, the spark between them would fizzle.