Forever Wild

by Allyson Charles

  “Earth to Lissa. Come on back.” Marla brought her hand down and cocked her head. “You were a million miles away.” She looked down the street, and a grin spread across her face. “Anything in particular on your mind?”

  “Or anyone?” Izzy added. The knowing smirk on her face matched Marla’s.

  Lissa leaned across the table. “What’s Dax’s story? I mean, when we first met, he came off as a crotchety old grandpa. A follow-the-rules, have-no-fun kind of guy. Sure, he was an adorable grandpa, but so straitlaced I didn’t know how he could breathe. I wasn’t expecting him to have a record.”

  Marla waved her hand through the air. “He’s a sweetie. He has a bit of a wild side, but it’s all in good fun. And he’s never done anything that could hurt anyone. Dax’s getting arrested and being sentenced to community service was the best thing that ever happened to Forever Friends. They’re going to miss him when his probation is up.”

  Izzy nodded. “Brad is already mourning the loss of free labor. But Dax is a really good guy. You should go for him.”

  “I think I will.” Lissa dug through her bag and pulled out her wallet.

  “Wait.” A wrinkle appeared on Izzy’s forehead. “I—”

  Marla waved her wallet away. “I got it. It’s the least I can do after you made my building an instant tourist attraction. They’ll come for the unicorns and stay for the dogs.”

  “Thanks!” Lissa freed William’s leash and gave a wave as she trotted away, the dog at her side.

  “I didn’t mean right now,” Izzy shouted at her back.

  Lissa grinned as she quickened her step. Dax’s auburn hair had disappeared around the corner. but with his height and coloring, he’d be easy enough to track.

  She turned down the next street and jaywalked across to the park at the center of downtown. Dax was sitting on a bench by a paved walkway that wound around the space. One arm was draped over the back of the bench, his coffee cup dangling from his fingers. He held his phone in his other hand and was flicking his thumb over the screen.

  William caught sight of him and lunged, almost pulling Lissa over onto her face. She wound the leash several times around her wrist and leaned backward as William dragged her forward, to Dax.

  He looked up when her shadow crossed his face.

  A fluttering feeling rolled through her stomach. “Hi,” she squeaked out. And frowned. She didn’t get nervous over guys. Especially not a guy she wouldn’t ever see again when she left in a few weeks. What the heck was he doing to her?

  A piratical smile slowly unfurled across his face, one side slightly higher than the other. “Hi, back.” He ruffled William’s ears and gave him some good chest rubs.

  Lissa shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “What are you up to?”

  They hadn’t talked much after their kiss. They’d chased William over proverbial hill and dale until the Bluetick had trotted back to the shelter all on his own, his play apparently over. Then Dax had to get to work at the shelter, with Gabe threatening to call Judge Nichols on him if he didn’t get his butt in gear. Although the gruff vet’s language had been a tad more colorful. Dax had only rolled his eyes at the empty threat, but he’d left Lissa with a brief squeeze to her hip to go give the dogs their baths.

  A grimace crossed Dax’s face. “I’m going over my proposal. Again. I’m meeting with the loan officer Thursday and I want to make sure it’s perfect.”

  Plopping down next to him, she peered at his phone. The text was small, but there was a lot of it. The solid blocks of paragraphs made her head hurt. She took his phone from his hand and started at the beginning of the document. “This is what you’re giving the money-man?” She flicked through the several pages to the end.

  “Yep. All my future hopes and dreams lie in that document.”

  “All text? No graphics of any kind?” Good lord, the man was doomed. “You can’t give this to the bank. You’ll never get your money.”

  Dax frowned and took back his phone. “You didn’t even read it.”

  “I didn’t need to.”

  William strained on his leash, snapping at a butterfly flitting past. Lissa reeled him back in. “Look, I don’t know anything about budgets or return on investment or whatever it is you need, but I do know marketing. And if you’re asking someone for money, you’re marketing yourself and your future business. You have to catch their attention. Three pages of single-spaced type isn’t going to do that.”

  “It’s one-and-a-half spacing,” he grumbled, but he peered at his phone again, frowning.

  Lissa hiked her legs up onto the bench and twisted toward Dax. “It wouldn’t take much to spice it up. First, bullet points are your friend. No one wants to read your estimated growth projections in paragraph form. Next, throw in some graphs. Oh, and pie charts. Everyone loves pie charts because, hello, pie.”

  Dax rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m not great with my word-processing software. I just figured out how to add page numbers. I don’t think graphs are in my wheelhouse.”

  She scooched closer to him, her knees knocking into his arm. “I can help. When I wasn’t making money on my painting, I did some work on one of those sites where you hire out your services for a couple of bucks per project. I usually designed logos and such, but I had one client who wanted all sorts of fancy charts. You just give me the data and I can make it pretty for you.”

  William went after a passing spaniel, wanting to play, and Dax took the leash from her before the dog yanked her arm off. “Yeah?” he asked.

  “Sure. In fact …” She bit her lip and looked from his old T-shirt to his worn boots and back up to his face. Would he be offended? He wasn’t exactly a stylish, cutting-edge kind of guy. The way things were probably suited him fine. But it wouldn’t impress the money men or his future customers. “I could make you a great new logo for Off-Road Adventures. You should think about rebranding the entire company. Right now, it looks like nothing has been updated since the seventies.”

  “It probably hasn’t.” He pursed his lips. “You think that would help?”

  “We’ll put the professional, modern new logo in the top corner of your proposal, dress the rest of it up a bit. It will look great.” She grinned, knowing she had him hooked. “But all this work doesn’t come free.”

  “Oh really?” Dax leaned back, one eyebrow raised. He finished the rest of his coffee, crumpled the cup in his hand, and tossed it in the direction of the garbage can five feet away. It disappeared inside without a sound. “I know you don’t need the cash. What are your terms?”

  “Nothing much.” She shrugged, widening her eyes, doing her best to look innocent. She’d been trying to sketch the man from memory ever since she’d met him and still hadn’t captured his essence. Now was her chance to tap the source directly.

  He lowered his head and gave her a look.

  Crap. She never could pull off innocent. “Fine, you probably won’t like it, but if you think about it, it really isn’t a big deal.” She rested her hand on his forearm. “I only want some of your time.”

  He leaned in, the heat from his body warming her legs. “I like the sound of that. Any extra time I have is yours. What do you want me to do?”

  She smothered her grin of triumph. “All you have to do is sit with me. I’ll do everything else.”

  A line creased Dax’s forehead. He obviously knew there was a trap, he just couldn’t see it.

  Lissa clapped her hands together. “You’re my new model!”

  Chapter 8

  Dax angled his knee over the top of the log and leaned his weight on his left hand. He tried to get comfortable, relax into the pose. He’d sat on hundreds of logs before. Nothing unusual about it.

  The skin on the back of his neck started to prickle, and he dropped his foot back to the ground. Damn it, he felt like a fool. Nothing about this was natural.


  “Will you stop grimacing, please?” Lissa leaned her upper body around the easel she’d set up in a clearing in Stouter Woods. They were about a hundred feet off a hiking path, and Dax tensed every time he heard a branch crack or bush rustle. If someone he knew saw him posing for a portrait … He swallowed. He’d never felt like such a jackass in his life.

  Lissa hadn’t wasted her time in Pineville—he had to give her that. When he’d asked her where she wanted to do this asinine painting, she’d had lots of ideas. She’d talked to Jerry at the bicycle shop, and he’d directed her to some hiking trails she’d explored in the couple of days she’d been in town. Dax had to respect that. Hiking alone in unfamiliar territory wasn’t something a lot of people chose to do. As delicate and quirky as she looked, Lissa had grit.

  “And stop shifting around like you have poison oak in your underwear,” she added. “I need relative stillness.”

  She was also as demanding as a drill sergeant when she painted. “If you want to paint something motionless, there’s a very nice blue spruce over there. It won’t be moving.”

  She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Hmph,” she said, sounding as annoyed as a librarian facing a rowdy bunch of kids. She turned back to her canvas.

  Dax fought his smile. This new Lissa was as adorable as a kitten with an attitude. He didn’t really mind helping her out. He even would have done it without the offer of her assistance with his proposal. He just wished his help involved something other than sitting around like a preening David Gandy wannabe.

  At least she hadn’t asked him to pose naked. Dax pursed his lips. Well, maybe that wasn’t such a horrible—

  “And stop making those kissy faces.” She leaned close to the canvas and dabbed her brush on the surface. “I’m losing light here.”

  Dax sighed. “You’ve got to distract me, at least. I’m not used to sitting in one place not doing anything.”

  “You and William have a lot in common. He took off right when we got here.”

  And here Dax had thought William had more in common with Lissa than him. “He’ll be back. That dog likes to run, but he always ends up coming home.”

  Her lush lips curved up. “How should I distract you?” She brushed a sheaf of soft curls over her shoulder, and Dax’s fingers itched to run through them.

  Those thoughts weren’t helping his sitting-still issue. “I don’t know. Tell me about this school you’re going to.”

  Lissa drummed her foot against the moss-covered earth. “I’ve dreamed about going to Bruggard-Tayo ever since my parents took me to the museum on its campus when we were in Santa Fe one summer. It’s a small school. They only accept fifteen students a year.”

  Dax blinked, impressed. “And you were one of them? That’s amazing.”

  She shrugged, but a hint of rose spread across her cheeks.

  “Your parents are artists, too, right? They must be very proud of you.”

  Her shoulders curved inward. “Sure.”

  Dax’s muscles tensed, and he went on full alert. Lissa was always upbeat. Perky without fail. But this second mention of her parents had seemed to suck the sparkle right out of her. “Where are your parents now?” he asked carefully. “Have you told them about your good news?”

  She concentrated on the canvas, her strokes long but faltering. “I think they’re still in Oregon somewhere. But last time we talked, I told them about it.”

  “And?” They had to have been proud. Their daughter was following in their footsteps, and she’d been accepted to an exclusive school. What wasn’t there to be excited about?

  She cleared her throat. “It isn’t their kind of art.” She flashed him a bright smile, one that he didn’t buy for a second. Lissa was good at many things, but hiding her true feelings wasn’t one of them. “I almost have the first layer done,” she said. “Your torture is almost over for today.”

  Dax ignored that little bit of misdirection. “But they’re happy you’re attending, right? They must be proud you were accepted.”

  Lissa dipped her head, her hair falling like a curtain, hiding her face. She cleared her throat. “Bruggard-Tayo isn’t as postmodern as my parents would like. They think the coursework will be derivative and that it won’t help my craft.” She drew back her shoulders and sat up straight. Pushing her hair over her shoulder, she gave him a tight smile. “But I think I’ll learn a lot. I tend to paint in only a figurative-realist style, but I want to explore Cubism, hard-edge painting, even Dadaism. I think if I can show my parents growth in my skills and creativity, they’ll be happy for me.”

  Dax had no idea what most of those terms meant, and he was really starting to dislike those parents of hers. But he said lightly, “My parents are in Oregon, too. Maybe we should set them up.”

  Lissa rolled her eyes, but her body was no longer as tight as a spring. Dax counted that as some success. “Tell me about them as I finish,” she said. “What was life like in the Cannon household growing up?”

  He considered it. As a kid, he’d never appreciated his family. What kid did? His mom and dad had always been there, supporting him, and he’d expected nothing less. “I always wished I’d had a brother or sister, but besides not providing me with a sibling, my parents were great. Are great. My dad’s my best friend.” Dax rubbed his chest, knowing just how close he and his mom had come to losing him. “We lived near Eugene in a decent house with a big yard. Cats and dogs: you know, typical American childhood.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “Sounds nice.”

  Dax’s stomach spiraled down to the log. Damn, he could stick his boot in his mouth sometimes. “I’m sure traveling around all the time must have been fun, too. A real adventure.”

  She lifted her chin. “It was great. I learned about history and art all over America. I’ve been in every state of the union except Hawaii. I couldn’t have asked for more.”

  Except for stability, Dax thought. A place to feel safe. Secure. He’d taken his solid lifestyle for granted growing up, but he couldn’t imagine not having a base to call home. Knowing his parents would always be there for him.

  He examined Lissa’s narrow shoulders and slender arms. She looked fragile. He didn’t like thinking about her as lonely or uncertain, even as a kid.

  But he couldn’t go back in time. Couldn’t change her parents and their jackhole ways. He could make sure her time in Pineville, however, was well spent. Stretching his arms above his head, he waited until he felt his spine pop before sagging back down. “Almost done? I think it’s time I fed you.”

  She dipped her chin and cocked an eyebrow, an expression he was beginning to love on her. “Purely out of concern for me, I’m sure.”

  He grinned. “I might be a tad peckish as well.” He stood and shook out his legs. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

  “All right.”

  Dax strode to her easel, and she quickly flipped the cover on the pad closed. “Nuh-uh. No peeking until it’s finished.”

  “Come on.” He reached for the corner of the cover, and she slapped his hand away. He shook out the small sting. “I’m the subject. I should get to see how you’re depicting me.”

  She put her supplies away in her pack and folded the easel. “Nope. Not until it’s done.”

  “Hmm.” He hadn’t really cared about seeing it before. Now he was curious. “You know, this dinner isn’t a sure thing. If you want food, I want something in return.”

  “Oh, you’ll buy me dinner,” she said, a siren’s smile curving her lips as she stood. His heart beat double. If she’d called for him, asked him to crash into a pile of deadly rocks, at that moment he wasn’t sure he could have refused. Her pull was as strong as the moon’s on the tide.

  He shuffled closer and caught the hint of honeysuckle that rolled from her skin. “I’m that sure a thing, am I?”

  She chuckled. “That you are.” She tipped her
head to the side, one blond curl sliding over her shoulder to rest on her breast. “But for some reason, I find that I like your predictability. Who would have guessed that?”

  Succumbing to his desire, he raised his hand and picked up that lock of hair. He rolled it between his fingers, loving the feel of the silky strands. He pulled it straight, giving her head a slight tug, then released the curl, watching it spring back into place. “And I don’t think you’re half as wild as you think you are.”

  Lissa opened her mouth, to object, no doubt, and Dax took advantage of the opportunity presented. Grabbing a handful of that magnificent hair, he tilted her head back and covered her mouth with his own.

  Soft. Everything about this woman was soft. From the cushion of her lips, to the press of her hair. And her skin …. He skimmed a palm over her bare arm. Her skin was like warm velvet, and he wanted to touch it everywhere.

  Running his hand under her shirt, he palmed her lower back. He paused when she nipped at his lower lip, waiting to see if it was a warning.

  She sank into him, curving her body into his, and took the kiss deeper.

  Thank God. The muscles of his back unwound. So, she liked to play. That was good, because he did, too. Holding her tight, he leaned her backward, taking her off-balance before scraping his teeth over her tongue.

  Lissa moaned. Curling her tongue around his, she gently suckled, before turning the aggressor. The kiss turned possessive. She bit down on his lower lip, then soothed the sting with soft presses of her lips. Her hands slid down his back and gripped his butt, squeezing, and Dax felt everything in him go tight. He’d grown to love her playful side, almost tripped over his own tongue when she showed her seductiveness, but he couldn’t have prepared for her passion.

  “Dax,” she whispered as she wrapped her ankle behind his calf. She arched her hips, and his length settled against just the right place. He went rock-hard in an instant.

  Placing one hand between her shoulder blades and the other on her curvy behind, he scooped her against him and lowered them to the ground, his legs too weak to stand a moment more. A stick dug into his side, but he didn’t care. Lissa was gluing her body to his, making sexy little sounds into his mouth, and nothing else mattered. Placing a hand behind her head, he protected it from the hard ground and just enjoyed the moment. The slide of her tongue, the merging of their breaths, the feel of her chest pressed to his.