Page 9 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

Those pretty lips made a tempting little “o” of surprise, but he forced himself to ignore it as he continued around the tent.

“Then I’m going with you,” he growled. “If only to prevent you from dying of sheer optimism.”

CHAPTER 5

Sylvie did her best to hide her sigh of relief as she grinned up at Thorn. Although she was quite sure she would be fine by herself, her trip would be more fun with someone else along. Especially a tall, grumpy, ridiculously sexy satyr.

“Why thank you, kind sir. Not that I need your help,” she added hastily. “But I’d enjoy the company.”

He only grunted, but she decided she didn’t really care. Watching those impressive muscles flex as he swiftly and efficiently dismantled the tent more than compensated for his lack of conversation.

Apparently, a satyr did know how to take down a tent.Or put one up?She suddenly remembered how much sturdier the tent had seemed after she’d come back from getting water. And then there was the fire. Maybe it hadn’t been a lucky match after all—and maybe her survival skills weren’t quite as successful as she’d thought.

Still, it had been nice of him to take care of her. Perhaps he was like Fluffy—even though he looked intimidating, he was a big softy underneath. And speaking of Fluffy…

“Where’s your dog?” she asked.

“I sent him home.”

“Home? You mean he’s all on his own? The poor thing must be so lonely. Why would you do such a thing?”

He shot her a quick glance as he rolled up her sleeping bag and tied it to the top of her pack.

“So he wouldn’t follow you.”

“You mean like you did?” she teased.

His shoulders stiffened as he frowned down at the knots he was tying.

“It was a coincidence that our paths crossed again.”

“If you say so,” she said skeptically. “But I do feel bad about Fluffy.”

“His name isn’t Fluffy. It’s Bront.”

She waved her hand dismissively.

“Just consider Fluffy a nickname.”

“Nicknames are a ridiculous human custom.”

“Are they?” she asked doubtfully. “Don’t you ever use affectionate pet names? Maybe I should give you one.”

He looked so appalled that she almost burst out laughing, but she did her best to keep a straight face.

“I suppose I could call you Grumpy, but he was one of the Seven Dwarfs, and you’re certainly not short. On the other hand, Tall and Grumpy is too much of a mouthful. Pookie? No, that doesn’t seem quite right either.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” he growled, as he swung her pack over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to carry that. Popeye,” she added teasingly, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Popeye?”

“He’s a cartoon character. A very strong cartoon character.”

He shook his head, his horns catching the light, but the corners of his mouth actually curved up a little.

This is entirely too much fun, she thought as she tried reaching for her backpack again. He simply stepped to one side and put a big hand on her back, firmly urging her towards the path. Part of his hand rested over the strip of bare skin between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her shorts, and the feel of those strong, slightly rough fingers sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

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