Page 5 of Horned to be Wild
He couldn’t decide if he was grateful that they’d passed the awkward introduction stage or regretful that he was now so keenly aware of her presence. He wanted more cheerful smiles and teasing conversations, more of her soft curves, and sweet scent, and he knew it was impossible.
She’s a city girl, he reminded himself.She won’t be here for long.
But even that thought wasn’t enough to take away the memory of her smile.
CHAPTER THREE
Lila watched Torin disappear into the woods, taking the adorable Mabel with him. She had a feeling the little goat would be making a reappearance, no matter how much her owner disapproved. She grinned as she remembered the way the tiny creature had charged the enormous minotaur, but her smile faltered at the memory of the look on his face as he’d landed on her.
She’d been dazed for a moment but when her vision cleared, he was looming over her, a shocked look in his eyes and an actual blush on his cheeks. His features were most definitely not human—a broad, flat nose with flared nostrils, a wide mouth, and those amazing amber eyes—but she still found him disturbingly attractive. His horns had been mere inches from her face, an impressive span of curved bone and his body had been a hard, heavy weight on top of her.
But it was the thick ridge of his erection pressing against her stomach that had really caught her attention. She’d had the brief, entirely inappropriate impulse to wrap her legs around his hips and pull him closer before he hastily rolled away from her.
The thought of that enormous erection sent a rush of heat through her body, and she squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to relieve the growing pressure. But the fact that he was hung like a horse—well, a bull—wasn’t the only thing she remembered about their encounter. There was something oddly vulnerable about him. His deep voice had been rusty, as if it wasn’t frequently used, and his tail had flicked anxiously the whole time he was speaking to her. And he had definitely been anxious, despite his huge size and intimidating horns.
He’d been so nervous that he’d fled from her at the first opportunity and she frowned at the thought. Had she said something wrong? She was sure he hadn’t been offended by her great aunt’s references to him. For a minute, his stern face had actually softened and his amber eyes had warmed, but after she’d complimented Mabel, he’d gone rigid and practically ran away from her.
She sighed and shook her head, then turned her attention back to the array of paints on the porch. Maybe she could convince him to pose for her.Naked, a voice in her head whispered, and the color immediately rose to her cheeks. But she did need to decide on her next project.
In the last few weeks before she’d moved, she had worked feverishly on a series of paintings, determined to get them done before she left. When she’d completed the last one, she had packed them into a wooden crate and shipped them to an address Etta had given her, with a note to sell them at the best price possible. With any luck they would add to her modest bank account.
But first things first. She needed to finish cleaning before she started painting. She gathered up her art supplies and went to attack the curtains. By midday they’d all been removed and thewindows washed, and she decided to reward herself by strolling into town for a coffee.
Harmony Glen was as delightful as her aunt had implied, and she quickly became accustomed to the wide variety of monsters and humans inhabiting the town. She waved to a fox man with a charming grin outside the local hardware store, making a note of the location, and didn’t blink when a female who appeared to be half peacock and half human served her a coffee that was every bit as good as the coffee shop down the street from her apartment in the city.
She carried the coffee down to the boardwalk and sat looking out over the lake, enjoying the warm sunshine while she could. A few of the trees edging the lake were already starting to change color and she knew it wouldn’t be long before autumn arrived. A proper New England fall—she could hardly wait.
On her way back home, she paused to admire the window display at Bloom & Vine, the local florist shop. Even though she was trying to watch her pennies, the colorful display was too tempting to ignore, and she decided a small arrangement would make the perfect house warming present to herself. As the owner made up the bouquet, she wandered around the store, admiring the collection of vintage garden accessories. A wrought iron bench that would make the perfect accent for the patio behind the cottage caught her eye, and she traced a finger over the intricate design.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the owner asked as she joined her. She was a tall, pretty woman with a shy smile.
“Yes, it is. The workmanship is exquisite.” She sighed. “It would be perfect for my garden—once I uncover it. My cottage wasabandoned for the last two years, and I have a long list of repairs to get through before I can tackle the garden.”
“You’re new in town too?”
“Yes. My great aunt lived here most of her life but I’d never been here before. I’m Lila, by the way. Lila Monroe.”
“I’m Marigold. Marigold Bloom. I know,” the other woman sighed, “but my mother thought it was the perfect name. Which tells you everything you need to know about my mother.”
Lila laughed, then gave Marigold a curious look.
“You said ‘new in towntoo’? This place looks like it’s been here for years. In a good way,” she added quickly, but Marigold smiled at her.
“It has. My mother bought it from the previous owner and now it’s mine. The name was purely a coincidence.”
She had a feeling there was more to the story than the other woman had let on but she didn’t press.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Maybe we could have coffee one day? Or something stronger?”
Marigold smiled, the expression transforming her face. “I’d like that very much.”
They exchanged numbers and she set off again, delighted to have made a new friend.
After picking up a few groceries from the small general store, she walked happily back to her cottage, making plans for the future. Repairing the rickety porch was next on her list—or should she trim back the overgrown vines first? She was still trying to decide when she reached the porch and came to a dead halt.
The bottom step—the one she’d nearly twisted her ankle on twice since arriving—had been completely replaced. In its place sat a gleaming new piece of wood, expertly fitted, the surface sanded to a silky smoothness that invited touch. She crouched down, running her fingers over the grain. It wasn’t just repaired; it was crafted. The wood had been treated with something that brought out the natural beauty of the pattern, highlighting whorls and lines she wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.
“Who did this—” she began, then immediately decided it had to have been Torin. But how had he done it so quickly? And why had he waited until she left the house to do the work?
