Page 11 of Horned to be Wild
“I hope you like the pie.”
He picked up his plate and she watched in astonishment as the huge slice disappeared in three quick bites.
“Did you enjoy that?” she asked, amused and impressed by his appetite.
“Very much.”
He started to get up, presumably to cut another piece, but she beat him to it, returning to the workbench with another, even larger piece.
“You don’t have to wait on me,” he muttered, but he attacked the pie with gusto, and she grinned, feeling an unexpected sense of accomplishment.
They ate in comfortable silence, and he had a third slice before he finally seemed to be satisfied.
“I suppose I should be going,” she said reluctantly when he finished.
He opened his mouth, but he didn’t say anything and rose to accompany her to the door. They stood there silently for a moment and she was acutely aware of his presence—the substantial warmth radiating from his body, the earthy scent ofwood shavings mingled with that musky, masculine aroma that made her pulse quicken.
“Thank you for letting me help. And for showing me your work. For seeing mine.”
Once again he seemed as if he were about to say something, then changed his mind. She swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat and turned to go.
“Wait a minute,” he said suddenly. “It’s starting to get dark. I’ll walk you home. I guesswe’llwalk you home,” he added, shaking his head as Mabel gamboled over to join them.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“It’s not an inconvenience,” he growled, and she smiled up at him, delighted that their time together wasn’t over yet.
CHAPTER SIX
I’m a fool, Torin thought as he snapped Mabel’s lead rope to her collar. He should have let Lila go home on her own, but the afternoon had been so pleasant that he hadn’t wanted to bring it to an end, hadn’t wanted to lose her sweet scent, or the occasional brush of her body against his, or that bright, happy smile.
The approaching evening was a flimsy excuse at best—the sun was still well above the horizon, and she had proven herself perfectly capable of walking down the long track to his house—but she hadn’t questioned it. Perhaps she didn’t want the afternoon to end either.
“This way,” he directed when she started towards the track. “There’s a path through the woods which is much shorter.”
“How convenient,” she murmured, giving him a teasing look, and he almost tripped over his hooves.
He took refuge in his usual silence, leading her along the narrow trail next to a small stream that tumbled through the woods onits way to the lake. The water splashed and danced over rocks and fallen logs, the shadows growing longer as they walked.
They walked side by side, Mabel trotting ahead with her lead rope casually looped over his arm. He was suddenly aware of how much he towered over her, and he deliberately slowed his pace to match her shorter strides. She gave him a grateful smile, and they walked in silence for a few more minutes.
“That’s a bluebird,” he said, directing her attention to a flash of blue among the branches. “They mate for life.”
Where had that come from? He wasn’t normally given to spouting random animal facts. He sounded like a damn nature documentary narrator.
He watched her tilting her face up to look at the bird, the last rays of sunlight breaking through the canopy to paint patterns across her skin. The urge to touch her nearly overwhelmed him—he wanted to run his fingers along the curve of her jaw, to feel the softness of her cheek against his calloused palm.
Instead he kept his hands clenched firmly at his sides.
As they continued walking, he found himself sharing his knowledge about the forest—about the old oak that marked the halfway point between their properties, about the family of foxes that denned near the creek each spring.
The closer they got to her property line, the more he dragged his feet, pointing out increasingly insignificant landmarks.
“These mushrooms only grow on the north side of fallen logs,” he explained, crouching to indicate a cluster of tiny brown fungi.
She knelt beside him, her shoulder brushing his as she leaned in to look, and the contact sent another surge of warmth throughhim. She was so close he could see individual freckles scattered across her nose, could count her eyelashes if he wanted to.
“The woods seem so much friendlier when you explain them,” she said softly.
