“Can we get the sheriff to put the fear of God into him?”
“Sheriff Tomlinson gives Chuck Fletcher a lot of rope. He won’t interfere.”
“Maybe we can grab him one night and find a tall cliff.” Micah hefted the last post and slammed it into the waiting hole.
“Shh. But no, not unless she asks me.”
He tilted his head, eyeing me. “And if she does? That’s one hell of a pretty woman. Way too good for that ape-face, even if he wasn’t abusing her.”
I remembered that Janet’s looks had been similar to Peggy’s— pale skin, dark brown hair, and big blue eyes. Exactly Micah’s type. I had to swallow before saying, “If she asks me for help, she’ll get it. I don’t hold with hurting women or children. She fell and lost a baby a couple of years back, and I have to wonder if that was his doing too.”
Micah growled under his breath. “A cliff is too good for him. She had a bruise on her arm. I want to bruise up every inch of him.”
I told myself that any werewolf would get fierce about an abused woman. It meant nothing special from Micah. Hell, I was furious, and I had zero interest in women. But I had to restrain a growl when Micah glanced back at the house and said, “She might be pretty enough for Hollywood, but she’s probably too sweet and meek for that life.”
“Watch the work,” I reminded Micah. “You’re holding that post crooked.”
We finished the fence and hung the gate, collected our pay, and headed back to my place for a late dinner. Zipper came dashing out of the bushes as we walked up the path and attacked Micah’s ankles.
Micah yelped and jumped. “Off, you foul biter.”
Zipper trilled, his eyes bright, then scurried away on some adventure.
“It means he likes you,” I teased.
“Oh yeah? Will you bite me because you like me?”
If you ask nicely.I cleared my throat, erasing the image of his bare skin waiting for my teeth. “We haven’t done enough play-fighting in fur?”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess.” Micah ducked into the house.
I followed him, not looking at his ass in those snug Levis. Every day was a gift. I had to remember that. We took turns in the tub, washing off the sweat and dust of the workday.He washed out his clothes when he was done, wearing just his undershorts. God was trying to torture me.
“I should have you drive me up to Yellowstone on Sunday, so I can fetch more clothes.” Micah didn’t turn as he reached upward to drape his things over the curtain rail. The lines of his smooth, brown back were poetry in a form I’d never appreciated so well.
Heat flashed over me and I had to turn away.
I’d been attracted to men since my early teens, even if one drunken night with Micah was what had cemented the certainty in my brain. Attracted, but not reckless. No other man had ever been enough to make me forget myself. I’d had a few dozen hand jobs over the years, mostly in the war when the threat of death made men willing to take risks for a moment of pleasure. A couple of soldiers had offered their mouths, but I hadn’t felt safe going that far. The two Texas wolves in my platoon wouldn’t have hesitated a moment before using the war as cover to get rid of a queer wolf permanently if I’d gone past “normal men have needs.”
I’d looked at porn photos since then. I’d bought the muscle magazines and left marks on a page or two. But Micah was the first, last, and only man who could stretch up an arm and make my whole body feel as if I’d been dipped in hot water.
Odds were, he knew it too. He hadn’t betrayed me after our one night, but he’d distanced himself from me immediately, and I’d done the same. He’d run out and found a pretty girl as fast as he could, dated and married her, his heterosexual credentials secure. He’d loved her big tits.
This past week, Micah had probably smelled arousal from me now and then as we worked and lived together, but he was being kind enough to say nothing. I didn’t need to make his tolerance difficult.
“Sure,” I said, stepping back casually from his underwear-clad presence. “I can give you a ride to Yellowstone thisweekend. Will you come back here afterward, or go on with your original plans?”
Micah threw me a look over his shoulder. “Have I worn out my welcome?”
“No! God, no. But I figured you have a job of work to do. Photos of a cheeky weasel can’t be enough to meet your commissions.”
“My time’s my own right now. I’ll need to get to a darkroom soon and start going through all the rolls of Yellowstone film, see if there’s anything I need to retake. But the deadline for the book is a long way off, and I was ahead of schedule. I thought I’d come back here with my suitcase, if you don’t mind.”
He looked uncertain, and I couldn’t let that stand. “You’re always welcome here, any day, any year, for an hour or a month or however long you’ll stay. My home is your home. I have friends, but there’s no one like you.” Then quickly, in case he took that the wrong way, I added, “You’re my pack, even if we’re not bonded to the same Alpha. I’m realizing how much I’ve missed that.”Missed you.
His face cleared. “Hell, yes. Me too. Do you think there’s anyone in town who’s an amateur photographer and might have a darkroom?”
“We have a local paper. Their headquarters are one town over, but that’s only twenty minutes by car. Lindy Lamar, girl reporter.”
