Wolf
Wolf gathered wood for a small fire, and Camellia laid it up over dried grasses and weeds and lit it with a lighter. Fires wereforbidden in the park at certain times of the year, but not just then.
The fire licked at the dried-out driftwood they’d gathered along the river’s edge, where they’d pitched their tent. Wolf settled into the squatty camp chair beside it. The thing was canvas with a wooden frame, its legs were only six inches long, and it folded smaller than your average umbrella. There’d been two of them in Camellia’s “everything we’ll need” bag.
There was a tiny village with a few more amenities nearby. They’d hiked out to a diner there to grab sandwiches for their dinner.
His beautiful companion was sitting in another chair beside him, her long legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. He liked the way the fire lit her eyes and told himself he shouldn’t.
At least she was starting to relax a little bit. Maybe because there’d been no further sign of Earl or his Blazer, and because they were far from Hobbsville. He thought she felt safe. And that might be partly because he’d kept his feelings to himself and she was starting to trust him.
His feelings, however, were changing rapidly. Or maybe they were just coming more fully online as he gained distance from the death of his mother and the shock of her revelations. His attraction to Camellia was powerful, but there was more. Something beyond the physical.
Yeah, the kind of stuff I don’t believe in.
He shook his head at his own bizarre train of thought.
They’d waited to get “home” before eating their dinner of sandwiches and potato chips, and she was still working on hers. He kept looking at her while trying not to let on that he was. He liked looking at her. And he still hadn’t seen her with her hair down.
She did seem more relaxed, he thought. Maybe he could…broach the subject of…them. The thing was, it was becoming clearer and clearer to Wolf that he didn’t want to be Camellia’s friend. He wanted to be her lover.
Even as he thought it, she reached across the space between his chair and hers and clasped his hand. His heart sped up. Hell, maybe her feelings were changing, too.
She said, “I want to thank you, Wolf.”
He turned his hand over so they were palm to palm. Her hand felt good there, small and warm, with their fingers sliding between each other’s. “For what? You’re the one helping me here.”
“It’s helping me, too. I feel safe with you. And I wouldn’t have if you’d been all…but you haven’t. You haven’t been like that at all. You’ve been a gentleman. It’s good to know they still exist.”
Ice water dousing complete.
Wolf gave her hand a squeeze, then let it go and took his beer from his camping chair’s cup holder. He took a big enough drink to relax his loins. He liked Camellia. Her trust in him made him feel pretty damn good, and it also made him feel like he didn’t want to break it. She felt safe with him. That made him feel ten feet tall. He couldn’t let on that he was just a horn-dog who wanted to get into her pants, like every other guy she knew.
She was absolutely irresistible. Of course every guy she knew wanted her.
He said, “I’m beyond sorry he scared you so much.”
“He didn’t at first. Like I said, he changed. Got in with a group of fanatics. Gun club, ostensibly. But it got progressively darker, meaner. He was always talking about everything he was against—which was dang near everything—and how society was better when women stayed home and raised the kids.” She lowered her head, shaking it. “I knew it was over before I endedit. That last day, he was pissed I wouldn’t let him use my dad’s camping gear for one of his angry-boy campouts.”
“You wouldn’t let him use it?” Wolf asked, raising his brows.
“Hell, no. He wasn’t worthy of my dad’s stuff.”
He couldn’t help himself. “Does that mean…you think I am?” he asked. Shit, was that flirting? That was definitely flirting. He wanted to pull the words back.
She shrugged one shoulder and said, “Most worthy, I think.” And she tapped her bottle to his and took a slug. “Earl wasn’t, though. He hated everyone. Immigrants, gays, women.” She shrugged. “I noticed the last few times we went out that he brought a gun along. On a date. Can youeven?”
“I can’teven,” he agreed.
“But that last day, he shoved me, and I fell, and I realized the guy’s a lot bigger than me and decided to stop waiting for the right moment to end it. It was clear he was getting worse, not better.”
The fire snapped loud and shot red sparks into the night sky. They faded to black on the way back down.
“After we broke up, I saw him in that black Blazer of his a couple of times, parked near where I was working a case. Once I started paying attention, I realized he was following me. Then the calls started, and the creepy gifts arrived at my work or at my mom’s house.”
“Creepy gifts?”
“A ball-gag, a vibrator, whips, paddles, shit like that.”
