Page 7 of Horned to be Wild
He had no intention of allowing her into his workshop. He still remembered the pain he’d felt when Annette, his high school sweetheart, had wandered through the shop, casually dismissing all of his work.
“I don’t know why you waste your time on this,” she said scornfully. “You’re not going to get rich making trinkets.”
“I’m not doing it to get rich.”
“And that’s the problem. I need more than a lumberjack in a backwater town. I’m leaving for the city. Tomorrow.”
He’d realized in that moment that she must have known for weeks that she intended to leave, but she’d never bothered to tell him. He put down the carved rabbit he’d intended to show her—the one that concealed the ring he’d bought for her—and followed her silently back to the cabin. They didn’t speak as shegathered the last of her things, and she’d climbed into her car and left without a backward glance. He hadn’t tried to stop her.
After she left, he’d focused on his lumber business and kept his woodworking a secret. The business had been successful and he’d managed to save up a nice little nest egg, but he had no intention of showing his creations to anyone else.
He reached for the pie but before he could take it, a familiar white blur shot between his legs. Mabel, sensing an opportunity for mischief, rammed her head against the door before he could catch it. The door swung wide, betraying him completely.
“Mabel!” he growled, but the damage was done.
He watched in horror as Lila’s eyes widened as she looked around his workshop. He was exposed. Laid bare. His private world was now on display.
The room was filled with wood carvings in various stages of completion, the shelves full of the work he’d completed and set aside.
“Did you do all these?” she whispered, her eyes darting from one piece to the next.
He nodded reluctantly. She looked at him, then back to the carvings. She bit down on that tempting lower lip, then handed him the pie.
“Why don’t you put this down?”
His arms were still stretched towards her, so he took the pie and turned away, bracing himself as she looked around. What would she think of his work? Would she dismiss it as casually as Annette had done?
Her footsteps echoed on the worn wood floor and then he heard her gasp, a sound of pure delight, and he couldn’t resist turning around. She was standing in front of the shelf that displayed several of his most recent carvings. A deer leaping through the woods. A squirrel perched on a branch. A small fox, his nose quivering in the air. She looked over at him, her eyes bright with admiration.
“These are incredible.”
Something fragile bloomed in his chest—a small, dangerous hope that he immediately tried to smother. He’d been here before. Hope was just pain’s patient predecessor.
“It’s just wood,” he said, uncomfortable with her praise, with the admiration in her eyes. It was so different from what he expected, from what he’d experienced before, that he didn’t know how to respond.
She shook her head slowly, still looking around in awe. “No, it’s not just wood. It’s… it’s life, captured in wood. It’s magic.”
His heart pounded at her words but he shook his head. “No. They’re just… toys.”
“Toys? You really think they’re toys?”
She stared at him for a long minute, and he could almost see the gears turning in her mind. Finally, she nodded to herself and bent to pick up a box tucked beneath the bench. He’d almost forgotten about it, but she lifted it onto the bench and carefully removed a sculpture. A stag with a full, majestic rack of antlers. His last attempt at a gift for Annette, discarded after she left. Lila examined it carefully and his chest grew tight.
“It’s flawed,” he said quickly, before she could point out the mistakes. “The proportions aren’t quite right.”
“Is that really what you think?” she asked calmly.
“Yes. I know it’s flawed.”
“Then why is it here?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. Why had he kept it?
“Because it’s beautiful.” She answered her own question, her voice ringing with conviction. “As are all these.”
She gestured at the other sculptures, then picked up the fox and handed it to him. “Show me the mistakes.”
He automatically reached for it, the weight familiar in his hand. The rough pads of his fingertips brushed against her delicate skin and the spark of electricity was just as intense as the first time he’d touched her. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she took a step closer, close enough that her scent washed over him again. She stared up at him, waiting for an answer, but his cock had taken control of his mind. All he could do was stare helplessly back at her.
