Page 6 of Horned to be Wild
Something else caught her eye—a small object placed carefully on the edge of the new step. A tiny, exquisitely carved wooden bird, no larger than her thumb. She picked it up with reverent fingers, astonished by the detail. Each feather was individually rendered, the wings positioned as if the creature had paused mid-flight, the head tilted in an attitude of curious observation. It captured movement and life in a way that seemed impossible considering the medium, and she found herself smiling at it in delight.
This was Torin’s work—it had to be. The craftsmanship matched the repaired step, but this… this was art. She shook her head as she carefully tucked the carving into her pocket and carried her purchases inside. This was another side to the stern-faced minotaur and she found herself more intrigued than ever.
She placed the bird on the kitchen windowsill where the light caught its subtle details, pondering her mysterious neighbor as she put away her groceries and arranged her flowers. How could someone so huge be capable of such delicate artistry? And why perform such a thoughtful gesture in secret?
I have to thank him, she decided,but how?A simple thank you note seemed woefully inadequate. She needed something more… personal. She tapped her lips thoughtfully as she considered her options. Perhaps she should take him the flowers? But then her gaze landed on the bowl full of apples she’d just purchased.
“Perfect.”
Two hours later, her cottage was filled with the heavenly scent of warm apples and cinnamon as she slid the golden-crusted pie from the oven. As she waited for it to cool, she admitted to herself that it was also an excuse—a transparent one at that.I want to see him again.The thought sent a delicious shiver down her spine that she didn’t care to examine too closely.
She started to pick up her phone and call Etta, then hesitated. While her best friend would be thrilled to hear that Lila had met the hunky minotaur, she wasn’t quite ready to hear Etta’s enthusiastic encouragement to jump his bones. Despite her undeniable attraction to him, there was something… more to her reaction to him than simple lust.
When the pie had cooled enough to transport, she carefully wrapped it in a clean kitchen towel. She changed into a simple sundress that showcased her curves and brought out the auburn highlights in her hair, then laughed at herself in the mirror.
“It’s just a thank-you pie,” she told her reflection, unconvincingly.
Based on her great aunt’s journal, the dirt track next to her cottage led to Torin’s house. She followed the track, enjoying the quiet rustle of the forest around her. The trees were thicker here, overhanging the road, and the scent of pine and dampearth filled her lungs. The sun was dipping towards the horizon, casting slanted rays through the trunks, and a bird called in the distance.
The forest seemed to wrap around her as she walked, cradling her in its embrace, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to walk the track in the company of her silent minotaur. Would she feel the same sense of comfort?
Not your minotaur, a little voice in her head corrected.
She sighed. No, he wasn’t hers, but that didn’t stop her from imagining him beside her, those broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world.
Her heart started to beat faster as a rustic cabin came into view. It was larger than she’d expected, with sturdy log walls and a wide porch, smoke curling lazily from a stone chimney. What looked like an old barn stood nearby, and cords of wood were stacked neatly under an open-air woodshed. Everything looked as if it belonged there, as if it were part of the forest itself.
She paused, suddenly having second thoughts. What if he didn’t want her here? What if the gift had been meant as a final goodbye?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she told herself, squaring her shoulders as she climbed up the steps to the cabin and knocked on the heavy door.
The pie trembled in her arms as she waited, a nervous flutter building in her stomach. Would he answer? Would he grunt and take the pie without a word? Would he smile?
The thought of seeing that rare smile again made her heart leap in a way she wasn’t entirely prepared for.
The silence stretched, broken only by birdsong and the distant bleat of what she assumed was Mabel, and she finally sighed. Either he wasn’t home or he wasn’t going to answer her. She was looking around for a safe place to leave the pie when she heard a muffled thud from the old barn.
She hurried down the steps and over to the barn. She knocked again, and this time she heard footsteps approaching. Her heart raced as the door swung open and he appeared, his massive body filling the doorframe. He wore an open flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose the thick muscles of his forearms, and she could see sawdust clinging to the short russet brown fur covering his powerful chest. She inhaled, and the mingled scents of sawdust and woodsmoke and a faint delicious musk hit her like a drug. A wave of heat rolled through her body and she lost the ability to speak.
CHAPTER FOUR
Torin cursed under his breath as he heard Lila approach his workshop. He’d heard her knock on the cabin door, but he’d been determined to ignore her. What could he possibly have to say to the tempting little human? He was a simple man who worked with his hands. She was an artist. He didn’t belong anywhere near her. Then Mabel had knocked over the pail that held his carving tools and the clatter echoed through his workshop.
He’d waited with a sense of foreboding for the inevitable knock. Even then he’d considered not answering the door but her sweet scent had drifted through the door, mingled with the scent of… apples? When he’d reluctantly opened the door and found her standing on the step, his heart had actually skipped a beat. Her hair was free, tumbling in loose brown waves around her face, and she wore a pretty sundress that showed off the creamy tops of her breasts and emphasized the irresistible curve of her hips.
His foolish cock immediately hardened but he did his best to ignore it as they stared at each other.
“Hi,” she said finally, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and her mouth parted in a soft O.
He grunted in response, his eyes locked on her mouth, and her cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink as she held out the pie. His stomach growled at the sight and she laughed, a delightful, carefree sound. Fuck, he loved that sound.
“You must have worked up an appetite,” she said. “It was very sweet of you to fix my step. And the little bird was adorable.”
His tail flicked nervously as she smiled up at him.
“Thank you, Torin.”
The sound of his name on her lips made his heart pound, but he only grunted again, determined to make this exchange brief. Take the pie. Thank her. Close the door. Simple.
