Page 9 of Easy, Tiger

Sadie advances, concern etched across her features. "Be careful, Nolan. The mating bond can cloud judgment."

"My judgment's crystal clear." Grabbing my truck keys off the counter, I snag a spare jacket off the hook beside the door, one of the several Sadie keeps stocked for emergencies, since my own clothes are currently folded inside the hollow of an oak miles away. "She needs protection, and she deserves honesty. Or providing as much protection as I can manage while holding back enough to keep everyone else safe. Thanks for the patch job, Amelia."

Amelia offers a tight, supportive smile. "Keep it clean, Nolan. Don't tear those stitches."

Letting myself out before Owen can find another argument, I cross the rehabilitation center's gravel lot to where Owen parked my truck. The old Ford starts with a grudging rumble, familiar vibrations traveling up through the worn bench seat as I navigate the narrow road back toward town. Afternoon light filters through the canopy overhead, painting swirling patterns across the windshield that remind me of how sunlight caught in Halsey's hair while she worked over my wounded form.

For days now, I've spied on her from the shadows, learning her routines and the intentional way she moves through the world. Mornings arrive with coffee in a thermos and a sketchbook tucked under one arm, finding her on the familiar trail to the overlook where she perches cross-legged on a flat boulder, pencil dancing across paper while capturing details most people miss entirely.

Conversing with the squirrels as if they were old friends comes naturally. Twenty motionless minutes might pass just to sketch a hawk's wing position, followed by subdued, reverent exchanges as behavioral patterns and seasonal changes are cataloged.

Approaching wildlife like a scholar and a poet combined, she seeks truth through thorough observation rather than dramatic discovery. Nothing about her suggests someone hungry for fame or validation. Trying to rebuild something precious that was taken from her, she is a woman defined by loss, nothing more.

A subtle awareness of her location hums beneath my skin, the mating bond's consistent pulse. Back at the cabin now, she is probably bent over preliminary sketches while afternoon light spills across her makeshift drafting table. Safe, for the moment, though that safety feels as fragile as morning frost.

Gravel crunches under the tires as I ease off the gas, coasting into my own drive instead of continuing toward town. First comes a thorough wash and a strategic plan, leaving the introduction to my mate for a moment when I am clean of dirt and forest debris. The workshop sits dark as I roll past it; the hand-lettered CLOSED sign hangs crooked in the window where I left it. Customers will have questions. For once, I don't have it in me to care.

Tomorrow, I'll find a reason to walk through her life before Owen's paranoia wins out, before someone else decides she's too dangerous to leave alone. Deserving to know the man she saved, she needs this truth, even if she can't know everything about what she saved.

5

HALSEY

The bell above Maren's Woodworks chimes as I enter through the door, the space hushed and calm. Afternoon light streams through tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing above workbenches cluttered with hand planes and chisels. The space feels like a cathedral dedicated to craftsmanship, all soaring beams and industriously organized chaos.

"Be right with you," someone calls from the back room, the words rich and unhurried.

While waiting, I wander between display pieces—a dining table with joints so seamless they might have grown that way and bookshelves that curve like living branches. Each piece bears the mark of hands that understand wood grain just as I understand the curve of a hawk's wing.

Footsteps approach from behind a partition, and a man steps out, sawdust clinging to his palms as he wipes them on a shop rag. Air locks in my throat.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he has dark blond hair and eyes the exact shade of amber I spent yesterday trying to capture in graphite. But it's the white bandage visible beneath his rolled flannel sleeve that makes my grip on the door handle tighten, bound precisely where a bullet tore through tiger fur.

I've seen him around town all week, always at the edges of things, a nod across the café or a raised hand from the trail crew. I'd chalked him up as one of those men who let their work stand in their stead and left it there. Nothing about those brief, wordless exchanges prepared me for how his whole face opens up now.

"Oh, Halsey." His smile crinkles the corners of those unsettling eyes. "Ellie mentioned you might stop by."

"Yes, I—" Clearing my throat, I force my gaze away from his shoulder. "I need frames for some illustrations of custom work."

"You've probably seen so many faces this past week. Ellie introduced us in passing at the café, but we barely got a chance to speak. I'm Nolan Maren. It's nice to officially meet you." Keeping his left arm rigidly immobile, he extends his right hand. "What dimensions are we talking about?"

His palm engulfs mine, warm and calloused, and an unexpected jolt travels up my arm. Drawing back quickly, I fumble for the measurements I scribbled on a napkin.

"Mostly standard sizes, but a few larger pieces. Sixteen by twenty, some smaller studies." Handing him the paper, I read his face for any flicker of recognition. "Simple frames, nothing fancy. The artwork should speak for itself."

"Smart approach." As he reviews my notes, my gaze keeps lingering on how he favors his left side. "What kind of illustrations?"

"Wildlife field guide for the region. Birds, mammals, scenic areas, native flora."

His face hardens almost imperceptibly—it's subtle, but I've spent years reading the micro-movements that herald an animal's intentions.

"Find any interesting subjects yet?"

"A few. Though I had an unexpected encounter yesterday. Came across a tiger near Willow Creek."

His hands pause on the paper, merely for a heartbeat. "A tiger?"

"I know how it sounds. But I saw what I saw. Beautiful animal, actually. Injured, though. Someone had shot it."