“She’s a wolf biologist,” I say.
West barks out a laugh. “That’s not an answer.”
It isn’t. But it’s the only one I’ve got.
Because the woman who studies wild things, who spends months alone in the Alaskan wilderness, who clearly wants nothing to do with roots or ranches or damaged ex–rodeo stars—she’s all I can think about.
And that terrifies me more than any bull ever has.
TWO
LANIE
All the Places We Don’t Fit
I called my best friend’s brother a dirty cowboy.
My car eats the miles between Coyote Falls and Winnie’s townhouse as I berate myself a dozen times over for the faux pas of essentially labeling what is clearly a wealthy man a cowhand. And for getting busted ogling his naked chest to boot.
There’s really no coming back from that.
No matter how hard I concentrate on the road, I can’t shake the image of the shirtless rancher and the way he looked at me like I was something he wanted to devour. Part of me is kind of okay with that. Or more than okay with it.
Which, as a sex-starved biologist who spends more months of the year with wolves than I do with real people, makes our three-hour return trip utter hell. I sang—badly—the entire trip out to Coyote Falls, when Winnie asked me to pick Sally up after an emergency work call. Winnie spends most of her hours on alternate shifts and often asks me to babysit since I’ve moved in on a semipermanent basis—in lieu of rent, which she flat out refuses to take in any case, no matter how often I offer her cash. But I wasn’t expecting Cord. The return trip is something else.
Getting my ovaries in a twist over a shirtless, off-limits, and sexy-as-a-Montana-sunset rancher shouldn’t top up my spank bank.
Check your sex drive at the ranch gate, Lanie.
A tired sigh brings me back to the confines of my trusty car. A glance in my rearview mirror confirms that Sally’s tucked herself beneath a blanket gifted to me in Alaska, handmade by my host during my research phase.
The woman’s creations are amazing. She incorporates traditional patterns from her region and an image of a magnificent wolf emerges from the center of the blanket, complete with wiggly ears, reminiscent of the wolf pups I observed there.
When I was Sally’s age, I could never have imagined that studying wolves would become my career. I found my calling when a wolf emerged from the tree line while I was hiking during my teens. The creature’s stillness, the way it merged with the mountain itself, spoke to me. And the more I learned about wolf behavior, the more invested I became until the wilderness seemed more like a home than four walls did. I knew even then I’d never be comfortable in anine-to-five job plus house andspouselifestyle since. Straight after college, I walked away from standard job hours for research stints in Alaska and never looked back.
Seeing Sally curled under the blanket gives me a pang. I’m glad someone else gets use from the handmade gift intended for someone who might use it for a family of their own one day.
A family that, with my nomadic, geek-worthy lifestyle, simply wasn’t on any horizon I could see.
“Did you enjoy your time with Ra—Uncle Cord?” I catch my slip.
“Always! I shot people.” Sally beams, tugging the blanket over her chin until all I see is eyes and hair.
“You did?” I start as a truck flashes past. I shake my head, trying to focus.Cord lets her shoot withwhat,exactly?
“We get painteverywhere. Even the cows turn blue! And I hit Billy in the chest. A bull eyes!”
“Bullseye,” I correct her.A paintball gun. That makes more sense. I stifle a giggle, realizing I don’t need to turn the car around to rip the man a new one. He’s too intimidating for that and my little old car may not survive his mile-long driveway a second time. Okay, so it’s not that long, but some of his potholes are deadly. “I’m glad you had fun. Do you want any snacks?”
“Later, please? Cord fed me lots.”
Brownie points earned right there, rancher boy.
Sally yawns, shifting to face toward the window. Soft snores fill her side of the car moments later, and I wish I could join her.
I envy her ability to shift from one situation to another with resilience. Like the wolf pups I study, their impulsiveness and ability to take in change protects them from other stresses. Sally can socialize with Cord and his farmhands with apparent ease, while I struggle to converse with one man at his own front door.
Albeit a shirtless one.
