He didn’t blame them. He couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice either.
“Want to go visit Grandpa?” he asked Eska, who flopped on her side, giving him her answer. Obviously, she preferred to stay in the barn rather than venture out with him. He’d been talking nonstop to her, too, until she’d laid her head down on her paws and only occasionally opened one eye just to close it again with a hearty sigh, obviously bored or fed up with his rootless ways.
Hell, he was fed up with himself. Maybe he needed to see someone for this—dare he call it—depression? It felt like a sort of depression, or life changing affirmation of some sort that he couldn’t figure out.
Grabbing his jacket, he walked the short distance to the Wilde family cabin and entered, hoping to find some warm bodies.
“Dad!” he hollered, entering the great room, and then, “Brey!”
There was no answer.
Come on, someone had to be home. The lights were on.
He entered the kitchen, helped himself to a beer, and began wandering the large cabin, sipping the contents. The place was really too big now that the girls no longer lived here. It was just Brey and his dad, rambling around the place that had been built with a large family in mind. The only one of his siblings still living here was Brey and who knew how long he would stick around.
Brey had made it big in the country music industry, so there had to be many vying for his attention. Though Brey seemed quiet about that part of the business. Dare knew something had happened in Nashville, something Brey was unwilling to talk about, brooding about the place like Heathcliff after Katherine. There had to be a woman involved, but getting anything out of Brey was like pulling a thorn from a bear’s paw. No one in their right mind was willing to attempt it.
Since the first floor was empty, he headed upstairs and checked the bedrooms. No one. Next, he ventured to the basement, where he found Brey working in a sound studio.
“Whoa, when did you do this?” Dare asked, impressed with the professional setup.
Brey jumped, startled. He sat in front of a keyboard, a pencil in his hand writing down lyrics, and had obviously been caught up in what he was currently working on. “Make some damn noise, would you?”
“I did. Hell, you had to be deep in thought not to have heard me stomping about the place.” He looked around the room, taking in the equipment. “You’ve been busy.”
“Some of us do more than play,” Brey mumbled.
“Hey, I work.”
“Then why aren’t you working now?”
“I’m waiting for it to snow.”
“You can work your dogs with the four-wheeler.”
True enough. “They aren’t feeling it.” Neither was he. He hadn’t been feeling a lot of things he loved lately.
“The pups tell you that, did they?” Brey muttered, chewing on his pencil.
“Pretty much. So whatcha doing? Need any help? I thought those lyrics I helped you with last time were gold.”
“Maybe for a dog commercial,” Brey muttered.
“Great idea. See, I helped you find another revenue of income. You can write jingles too.”
Brey gave him a stony look. “Get out.”
Dare laughed. “All right, I apologize. You’re much too talented for jingles.”
“Damn right.”
“Though I think I read somewhere that a lot of talented singers and songwriters did jingles early on in their careers. Barry Manilow for one.”
“Barry Manilow?” Brey gave him an incredulous look. “When have you ever listened to Manilow?”
“I found out by accident when one of my females gives birth to her pups, Manilow calms them down.”
Brey tossed down his pencil and leaned back in his chair. “Dare, I’m swamped. Isn’t there someone else you can pester?”
Pester? Had he become one of those men? “Do you know where Dad is?”
“Something about helping Morgan Waterman move into Orwell’s old place.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he and Luke have been over there the last few nights, helping her fix it up. There was talk of generators, firewood, running pipes for water. Stuff like that.”
“Well, why didn’t anyone tell me?” Dare set his half-empty beer down and jumped to his feet and headed for the stairs.
“Someone just did!” Brey hollered after him.
Damn it, why hadn’t Morgan asked for his help? She asked for all the intimate help he could give. Why not practical things like the basics of survival?
He knew about generators and he could chop wood.
Why was he not good enough to call for help? He had more to offer her than just sex.
Jumping into his truck, he raced over to the old Orwell place, finding no sign of Luke Waterman or his father, though Morgan’s truck was parked outside.
Should he knock? Most likely not. She hadn’t really talked to him since her night at his place, no real communication whatsoever.
Was she mad at him?
He really didn’t want her upset with him. So how the hell should he handle this?
Growling, he got out of his truck and banged on the door. Damn, if she was going ignore him after what she’d asked him to do…
The door opened, and there was Morgan, dressed in a form-fitted tank top and ass-hugging yoga pants.
“Hey, neighbor,” he greeted.
Chapter 11
The last person Morgan thought she’d open her door to was Dare Wilde. How did he even know where she lived?
“What are you doing here?” she asked, grabbing a shawl to throw over her bare shoulders. She felt naked under his penetrating stare. She’d been working out, doing yoga, and knew she was sweaty, her hair piled high on her head without a stitch of makeup on. Not the way she wanted him to see her. She needed her battle armor around her when she was near him, hair and face done, and flattering clothes. Her yoga getup didn’t leave a lot to the imagination and showed all her imperfections.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said with a frown. “And why haven’t you called me back?”
“I’ve been busy. Besides, I sent you a text.” The last few days had been crazy, what with breaking the news to her mom, who’d adamantly refused to let her move out here, and her dad, who had surprised her and agreed she needed her own space, and that the Orwell cabin was good experience for her current career plans. She swore Luke Waterman could try the patience of the Pope. One never knew how he would react to something. She thought for sure he would be the biggest hurdle when she’d mentioned she wanted to move out here. Nope, he’d helped her pack and then he and Dare’s dad had helped her get this old cabin into decent living condition.
“We need to talk,” Dare said, pushing forward. “Are you going to let me in, or let all the heat out while we talk on the doorstep?”
“Uh…sure. Come on in.” He was already inside before she finished talking. She shut the door and turned, pressing her back to the rough surface, wrapping the wool shawl around her tighter. Dare stood in the middle of the one-room cabin. There wasn’t a lot of space, but she thought she’d done a good job of making it comfortable.
It had taken her days just to clean it. She’d even hired Bailey and Harper to help, promising them a bonus if they didn’t fight. That lasted four hours until she’d taken them home, their bonus forfeited.
The place had been neglected for years and there was more than dust and cobwebs to sweep out. But now it was clean, with beige curtains that helped to brighten up the dark log walls. She’d moved in her double, brass bed from home, and it looked perfect with the promise quilt, in soft blues and greens, that her mother had made her for graduation.
Jack had found her some old cabinets for the kitchen, and he’d even gone further than he’d needed to, finding a wooden slab for a counter. There was a small bistro table off to the side of that, and she had two camp chairs set up in front of the old potbelly stove, which currently blazed away, chasing out the chill.
“W
ould you like something to drink?” she asked when Dare looked over the space, not saying anything.
“What do you have?”
“Uh…” She wasn’t sure. She’d yet to stock the place with groceries. Tonight would be her first night staying here. “I can make some tea.”
“Sure.”
She pushed off of the door and headed to the sink. While she didn’t have water coming into the cabin, she had a sink that drained with a cooler set up filled with water that she’d carted in from town. She filled the teakettle and placed it on top of the potbelly stove. Then she produced mugs with green tea bags.
“Have a seat.” She gestured to the table where she set the mugs down. “And tell me why you’re here.”
He frowned, sitting on one of the rickety chairs her dad had found in the depths of his garage. They were mismatched, one black, the other blue, both faded and worn with the wood showing through the paint in places. She had plans for them. The table had been another find, this one at Dare’s sister’s place, the Mystic Heart, made from recycled barn wood and finished to a natural pine shine. It was beautiful and fit the aesthetics of the cabin’s decor perfectly.
“You know why I’m here,” he said.
“Actually, I have no idea why you’re here.” She took a seat opposite him, waiting him out.
“Why didn’t you ask for my help moving?” He indicated the cabin. “You’ve done some amazing work getting this place habitable. Last time I was here, the cabin wasn’t fit for vermin.”
She shuddered. “Apparently, it was perfect for them. I found a nest of lemmings happily content. Not so much now, though I wouldn’t put past them to try to move back in.”
He choked out a laugh. “I bet you did. I’m surprised you didn’t find more than that. You might need a cat. This place has been empty for years. Why are you living here?”
“I needed my own place. I’m sure you can understand that. You and Ryder were working on converting the barn before you graduated high school.” They’d moved into it right after.
“Well, living with four sisters will do that to you.”
“Your sisters have nothing on Bailey and Harper. Those two are constantly at each other’s throats. It’s like living in a war zone. I had to get out of there.”
“So it wasn’t because you needed your own place so that you could—” He suddenly broke off and his face reddened.
“So I could have privacy to sleep with whomever I wanted?” She finished for him. “That did play into it, yes.”
“Morgan—” he growled, but the teakettle whistled, interrupting him.
She stood, using the corner of her shawl to pick up the hot handle and brought the kettle to the table. She didn’t say anything until she’d filled their mugs and set the kettle down on a ceramic trivet, one she’d picked up from the Arctic Tern in Fairbanks, made by the famous potter Raven Harte. Another reason she wanted to be introduced to Lynx and his family.
“Listen, Dare—” she began, but he reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
“No, you listen. I’ve given what you asked of me a lot of thought, and I have something to run by you.”
She narrowed her eyes and looked at him, wondering what he was up to. It was hard to think with his warm, rough hand holding hers. Her whole arm tingled from his simple touch, and she was interested when he didn’t continue right away but instead just stared at their hands. She wondered if his arm tingled too? Then he surprised her further, by linking their fingers together.
The sweetness of the action had a lump appearing in her throat and she tried to swallow it down.
He leaned farther forward, capturing her eyes. “If we are going to do this, we need to do it right. I don’t want you to regret your first time.”
Her heart leaped at his words. Was he saying he was actually willing to sleep with her? She sat there silent, not able to speak.
“I want us to date first,” he said.
“D-date?” she sputtered. “Why?”
“Believe it or not, sex between a man and a woman means a lot to the man too. I don’t want my time with you to mean nothing. I need to know you—not just physically, but emotionally and mentally as well.”
“Excuse me?”
“Taking the time to know each other makes the sex that much more pleasurable.”
“But I don’t need that. I don’t want feelings to come into it.”
Dare released her hand and sat back in his chair, studying her. “Who hurt you, Morgan?”
She felt the blood drain from her face, and she was thankful for the dim lighting in the cabin, praying he didn’t notice.
His mouth tightened into a hard line, obviously noticing. Damn it.
“Who was he? What did he do? Is he the reason you want to get rid of your virginity so badly?”
How had he guessed?
She jumped up from her chair, needing distance between them. The last thing she wanted was for Dare to know his hockey buddy found her undesirable. Would he look at her with pity, wonder what was wrong with her? She did that enough on her own. The cabin was so small there was no space to be had. She hurried into the laughable living area, and in her rush to put some much-needed breathing room between them, tripped over the yoga mat she’d forgotten was there.
Dare had her in his arms, before she hit the floor.
“Careful, there,” he said softly, his big, strong arms wrapping around her, pressing their bodies close together. Their eyes met, and she felt like the world suddenly spun faster on its axis, causing her to feel suddenly dizzy.
He reached up and smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You are so beautiful, Morgan. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to turn you down the other night, when all I want to do is toss you on my bed and have my way with you?”
Hard was right. What pressed against her belly was definitely interest. “Why didn’t you then?”
“You deserve so much more than a quick spin in the sheets.” His fingers caressed the side of her face and then traced the outline of her lips, his eyes darkening with desire. “So much more.”
Then he kissed her. Gently at first, exploring, trying to keep it light until she grabbed ahold of his hips. He groaned, and the kiss turned dark and dangerous. He nipped her lower lip and when she gasped, he entered her mouth with his tongue, finding hers and taking it on a dance so decadent she would have willingly agreed to anything he asked.
Holy cow, the man could kiss.
He cupped the back of her neck, bending her over his arm and holding her in place for him to dive deeper. Heat pooled low in her belly. The kiss went long, longer than any other kiss she’d ever received, creating all sorts of sensations to manifest themselves. Sensations she’d never felt before. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, all she could do was feel.
And she wanted more. So much more of him. No one had made her feel like this. Like she was wanted, desired. In turn, she wanted to know what pleased him, what made him shout out in pleasure.
He tore his mouth from hers, his lips kissing, nibbling down her neck to over her collarbone. He stripped her of the shawl, his hands caressing her shoulders, and then down her arms.
How were her arms suddenly an erogenous zone?
“Who was he, Morgan?” Dare asked huskily.
And just like that, it was like someone dipped her in an icy lake. She stiffened in his hold and pushed weakly at his chest. “No one. There is no one.”
He met her eyes, his piercing, not believing her. She felt like one of her dad’s taxidermy animals being nailed to the wall.
“Why are you refusing to tell me?” he asked.
“Because you know him, all right.”
Shit, shit, shit!
Why had she admitted that? She pushed harder at his chest until he released her, and then moved closer to the bed. Thinking better of it, she changed directions. The only problem was, Dare blocked her path.
She really had nowhere to go.
; “Who is he and what the hell did he do to you?” he asked. It wasn’t really a question, but more of a demand.
She felt like she’d been arrested and was now being interrogated. She’d already slipped up once, but if Dare knew it was Bart who had set her on this path, she feared Bart wouldn’t be long for these woods. Besides, how did she admit to him of all people how wounded she’d felt when Bart turned her down, even laughed at her at her virginal state for a woman of her age? Like she was long in the tooth, an old maid sitting on the shelf. No way could she admit to Dare, of all people, how that had made her feel.
“I’m not going to tell you, so stop asking.” There take that. He couldn’t force water from a stone, and damn it, she was the stone, even though her knees weakened to jelly as he continued to stare at her.
Stay strong, Morgan. He doesn’t need to know, and you don’t have to tell. So there.
Childish as it sounded, she was holding her tongue. By the looks of him, lives depended on it.
“Fine,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “But I will get to the bottom of this. Until then, you are going to date me.”
“I’m what?”
“You heard me. Friday night, dinner, you and me. Be ready at seven.”
“I will not.” She planted her hands on her hips.
How dare he?
“You will.”
“Will not.”
“You will if you don’t want your dad to know what you asked me to do.”
“You’re blackmailing me?” she squeaked.
“Yes, I am, and if I see you out with anyone from your list or not, your dad and Gabi will hear about it from me faster than lightning. Got it?”
“You can’t do that.”
“The hell I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you from yourself.”
“Dare!”
“Don’t dare me. You will lose.” And with that, he slammed out of her cabin door.
Wild Streak (Alaska Wild Nights Book 6) Page 5
