She grinned before breaking into a jog as much for her own sake as for Milo’s. Her wolf was unusually close to the surface, and she was desperate to burn off the raw energy. Milo loped easily beside her, but Kyle struggled to keep up. She tempered her pace.
How could she possibly have entertained the idea he was Jonah? Sure, he was athletic, but his gait was slightly uneven and his pace was entirely human. Then again, he’d marked her last night as wolves did. That was strange but didn’t necessarily mean anything, she told herself. When she reached the back of the massive yard, she slowed to a stop and waited for him.
Huffing, Kyle rested his hands on his knees. “Running. Isn’t. My. Thing,” he said between breaths.
“What is your thing?”
He grinned and scratched the back of his head. “Bossing people around. Isn’t it obvious?” He nodded toward Hunt Club.
“I don’t believe it. It doesn’t suit you. You can barely boss Milo around.” At the sound of his name, Milo perked his ears up.
The morning sun made Kyle’s eyes blaze butterscotch with just enough flecks of green and brown to remind her they were hazel. The smile faded from his face. For a moment, she felt like the polished veneer he commonly wore moved aside and she was staring straight into his soul. He cocked an eyebrow. “Bossed you around well enough last night.”
“I stand corrected. I rather like your bossiness under the right circumstances.”
He straightened. “Come on. There’s a trail back here.”
He led her to a gate in the fence at the back of the property, where they melded into the woods on a narrow and twisting dirt path. An intense peace came over Laina as the forest swallowed them, the songs of birds overhead joining the whirr of cicadas and Milo’s panting. Behind her, Hunt Club became a distant memory, completely concealed by the changing trees, their auburn, evergreen, and saffron leaves celebrating the early fall. There was nothing else. No traffic. No voices.
“How much land is yours?” she finally asked, curious as to how far they could go.
“Just over five hundred acres.”
Her eyebrows shot heavenward. “Why on earth do you need that much property?”
“I’d like to turn this Hunt Club into a resort. Horses, tennis, skeet shooting, snowshoeing in the winter.”
“I thought Hunt Club was a lifestyle club—essentially liquor and sex.”
“It is, for now.”
“You want to make it something more?”
“Maybe. Nate’s not a fan of the idea.”
Laina analyzed his guarded expression. “Gerty thinks you want to make this your permanent home.”
“Gerty knows me better than anyone.”
“Why here? Why now?”
Kyle waited a long time before responding. “The other ones weren’t for me. This is the only club designed with my permanent residence in mind. There’s something about the woods, the wild. Plus, it’s the place I can practice my hobby.” He turned down an even smaller branch of the trail, then came to a stop at the base of a clearing. Milo sat and waited as they’d trained him to do.
“Good boy,” Laina said, ruffling the dog’s ears. When she looked up from the mastiff, she followed the exposed roots of an enormous oak tree to a rustic tree house intimately designed within its branches. Intimate because the craftsmanship gave the illusion the house was a natural extension of the tree. Her lips parted in amazement at the design.
“Who made this? It’s beautiful. The artistry is incredible.”
When he didn’t answer, she looked at him. “Me,” he said simply. “You asked what my thing was. It’s this.” He pointed a hand at the tree house. “When I’m not being the boss of people, I build tree houses.”
Eyes wide, she shook her head. “It’s impossible. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”
“Come on. I’ll show you inside.”
“What about Milo?”
“He can come too. There’s a ramp.” He walked around to the back of the tree, where a selection of cleverly placed shrubs concealed a plank bridge that sloped to the bottom of the structure. As the three approached the door, she inhaled deeply. Cedar and pine—the source of Kyle’s unique scent.
Kyle pushed open the rounded door, which reminded her more than a little of a Hobbit hole, and ushered her and Milo inside. The interior was equally charming. Maple floors flowed into roughhewn log walls, the bark preserved in places to continue the illusion that the tree had bloomed a house rather than simply supported one. The only furniture was a small daybed and a driftwood end table with a battery-powered lantern.
