Page 8 of Horned to be Wild
“Tell me what’s wrong with it,” she urged.
He finally managed to look away from those dark eyes and focus on the figure. “The angle is off. It should be more upright.”
He demonstrated with the piece and she frowned. “But that wouldn’t look right. It would look too posed. Not natural.”
“Perhaps,” he said grudgingly.
“What else?”
“The tail is too thick. It’s out of proportion to the rest of the body.”
“Really?” She sounded skeptical.
“Yes. It’s too big.” He turned the carving, examining it carefully.
“Let me see something.”
She reached for the figure but instead of taking it away, she posed it so it was sitting on his hand.
“Look at it next to you.”
He obediently looked down at the carving and she laughed. “No. Like this.”
She took his free hand, and a tremor went through his body at her touch.Fuck. What is she doing to me?He felt as helpless as a newborn fawn, unable to resist her touch. She placed his other hand next to the carving and he finally understood. With the squirrel perched between his oversized hands, it looked exactly right.
“Perhaps it isn’t so bad.”
“It’s not only not bad, it’s amazing. They all are.”
Her hand was still resting on his as she looked up at him, her dark eyes shining with admiration and… something else, something more intimate. His ability to speak deserted him, and then her cheeks went pink. She took a quick step back, but in her haste she knocked over his latest project—a carving of a small goat. He grabbed for it but he didn’t catch it in time and they both heard the crack when it hit the floor.
A surge of old anger and hurt flashed through him—his father, smashing some of his early pieces in a drunken rage, Annette’sscornful words—and he snatched up the broken figure, glaring at her. He had the sudden, insane urge to hurl it against the wall. To destroy it, the same way that fragile part of him had been destroyed. But then she put a trembling hand on his arm, and he froze.
“I’m so, so sorry, Torin,” she said, her voice shaking.
He stood motionless, torn between the instinct to retreat behind his walls and something new—a part of him that recognized the genuine horror on her face. She wasn’t dismissing his work; she was devastated to have damaged it. The realization was a shock, and the fragile hope grew stronger. He looked down at the goat and saw the crack in the neck, but it wasn’t a bad break. He’d be able to fix it.
“It’s just a piece of wood.” He managed to force the words out past the tightness in his throat.
“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize how much work you put into it. Can it be fixed?”
He nodded and she sighed, her shoulders sagging.
“Thank god. I’m so glad I didn’t ruin your work.” She bit her lip, then gave him a hopeful look. “Can… Can I help?”
He should tell her no. But then she would leave, and he didn’t want her to go. Not like this.Fuck.He was in serious trouble. He suspected he had been from the moment her soft brown eyes met his.
“All right,” he said gruffly.
She beamed at him, the warmth of her smile like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, and the small, fragile hope took root.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lila’s heart raced as Torin put the goat figure on his workbench and pulled the chair closer. She had to fight the urge to grab the tiny goat and hold it close, as if that would somehow undo the damage she’d caused.
“Sit here,” he ordered, and she scrambled ungracefully into the too-tall chair.
He looked at her, then shook his head before grabbing an empty apple crate from against the wall and putting it under her feet so they weren’t dangling a foot above the ground.
