Sweet Wild of Mine

by Laurel Kerr

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Nan protested.

  Magnus laughed, the sound as barren and harsh as the sea cliffs he described in his writings. “Did you ever meet a Gray?”

  Nan nodded. “I saw your great-grandfather from a distance once. I was visiting some friends on Bjaray and saw him plowing his field with horses.”

  “Aye, and I bet he didn’t wave, but turned his b-b-b-back.”

  Nan gave a reluctant nod. “But he was busy.”

  “A Gray is always b-b-busy,” Magnus said, and June detected a thread of bitterness in his voice.

  “Did you know your great-grandpappy?” June asked.

  Magnus shook his head. “Nay. He was in the grave years before I was born. Grays don’t live long.”

  “Is your daddy still alive?” June asked.

  Magnus’s eyes instantly became as shuttered as a house before a hurricane. He rose to his feet. “It’s time for Sorcha to p-p-p-put her head down for a wee kip.”

  Magnus stooped to pick up the little bear who’d been busy inching over the floor and trying to pull herself up and over the enrichment toys Bowie had left littered about the room. Magnus had told June it was good for the cub to try clambering over different surfaces. In the wild, the cub would’ve been preparing to survive on the ice floe with her mama by now.

  Magnus picked up the bear, cuddling her close to his chest. He leaned his head near Sorcha’s as if sharing secrets. June listened closely, and she detected the faintest strains of “Dream Angus,” an old Scottish lullaby her nan had sung to her years ago. Unexpectedly, tears stung June’s eyes. Normally, old memories typically brought joy. This time, though, she couldn’t escape the feeling it would soon be her caring for Nan instead.

  Magnus placed the cub next to the capybara. The little bear instantly snuggled against the massive rodent’s furry heat. She yawned and rested her chin on the capybara’s haunch. The rodent nuzzled the cub before snuggling into the nest of blankets. Within moments, both animals fell asleep.

  Magnus carefully stepped away from the two. With his attention on Sorcha and Sylvia, June took the opportunity to study him. She had not lied several days ago when she’d called Magnus a complicated man. For all his bluster and claims to be a rotter, he’d rushed to her grandmother’s side when she’d needed help. June had a feeling Magnus would have talked about Tammay even without their deal. He’d wanted to distract her nan from her fear, and he’d done so admirably.

  Magnus wasn’t like the men who normally captivated June. Yet something pulled her to him. And, June thought, as she watched the huge rodent cuddle a baby bear, if prey could comfort predator, perhaps it wouldn’t be too farfetched for two polar-opposite humans to decide to explore an attraction.

  Chapter 5

  “You want me to do what?” Magnus asked, staring at June in disbelieving horror. Surely, he had not heard the barmy woman correctly.

  June nodded, her pink lips spread into a wide smile as if she hadn’t just insulted him. She had come to help him, Bowie, and Katie get an enclosure ready for Sorcha. Since polar bears required rather complex exhibits to stay stimulated, they had decided to start early. June Winters, with her designer blouses and high-heeled shoes, didn’t seem the type to move dirt to install a large pool. She’d shown up looking like a fresh-scrubbed farm girl ready to pose for a travel magazine cover with tight jeans, pink wellies with chickens on them, and a formfitting plaid jacket. To Magnus’s surprise, though, she turned out to be surprisingly handy with a spade. Unfortunately, she seemed equally easy with her advice.

  “I swear it will improve your vlog’s viewership,” June drawled.

  “It is not your concern,” Magnus snapped. Baws. He’d only asked the lass for help two days ago, and he certainly hadn’t requested grooming tips.

  He swung his gaze toward Katie and Bowie for assistance. Both of them wore old Carhartt jackets and sensible jeans. Their muck boots, as Bowie called them, were plain green with no fancy patterns. These were people who Magnus understood.

  Katie gave him a commiserating half smile as she lifted one shoulder in a helpless shrug. “June’s a natural makeover artist. She can’t help herself.”

  Bowie didn’t say anything. Instead, he studiously kept his attention focused on the tip of his shovel. He looked like he wanted to use it to dig a hole to escape the situation. Magnus could sympathize with the zookeeper. Greatly.

  “You wanted me to help you,” June pointed out. “I am only making a recommendation.”

  “I am not cutting off my bloody beard.”

  June sighed, looking like the very soul of patience itself. He growled. The lass had gone completely doolally.

  “I didn’t say to shave it off,” June said. “I mentioned a trim.”

  Then, before Magnus could duck away, the lass stood on her tiptoes and reached up to push his hair back. “You have very striking features, and it would make you more approachable if people could see your face. Isn’t this about connecting with your audience?”

  Get up, Assie Pattle. Stop blethering to the coos; you sound like a bampot. You’re late again, you dobber. Quit your stuttering, you nyaff. You don’t want people knowing that you’re a deeskit idjit, do you?

  His da’s voice sprang up like a sudden squall, threatening to blow Magnus down and drown him in memories. He reared away from June so suddenly that he startled her into taking a few stumbling steps backward. This was why he didn’t get close to people. He’d had a lifetime of his da telling him what to do and how to be.

  Laying his shovel slowly and deliberately on the red dirt, Magnus turned and stalked away. He would find another chore to do until the dafty hen left. Perhaps he’d work on the honey badger enclosure. The wee beasties kept escaping.

  Magnus had just passed the otters when he detected the tread of footsteps behind him. His body went as taut as a dinghy’s mooring rope at high tide. To his surprise, it was Katie’s voice he heard next.

  “Magnus, wait,” she called. Since the woman was carrying twins, he obeyed. She rushed over, puffing slightly. “You walk really fast.”

  Magnus gave a curt nod, hoping he didn’t appear too rude. He liked Katie well enough. Unlike June, she was friendly without being overly familiar.

  Shooting him one of her grins, Katie placed her hand behind her back and drew in a long breath before she began. “I’m sorry about June’s pushiness.”

  “She’s n-n-n-n-n-not your responsibility,” Magnus said.

  Katie’s expression turned rueful. “Well, I am the one who invited her today, and I am her best friend. She can be intense sometimes.”

  Magnus sent her his driest look. June possessed the force of a winter hurricane.

  “She means well,” Katie continued quickly. Unlike her friend, she didn’t drag out her words. “She really does. June is remarkably impervious to criticism, so she doesn’t always understand how her words might sound to someone else.”

  “I wish she’d leave me in peace.”

  Katie laughed, the sound as buoyant as her red curls. She reminded him of an Orcadian lass in that moment. “I think you’re the first man ever to say that.”

  That Magnus didn’t doubt. June had a face as pretty and rare as the Scottish primrose.

  “Aye,” Magnus agreed.

  A solemn honesty replaced Katie’s mirth. “She really is good at figuring out the best look for people. Back in college, she gave me a makeover. It might sound shallow, but I found confidence for the first time in years. I was bullied back in high school, and June helped me get past that. I owe a lot to her.”

  Magnus grunted. Katie was a bonny lass herself, but in a subtler, earthier way. June, however, was as bright and incandescent as the northern lights dancing across the sky…and just as unpredictable.

  “She did the same for our friend Josh. I swear he has more designer clothes than she does now,
but he was a classic geek when she met him. He credits her with helping him get the poise to run his own cybersecurity business. And don’t tell Bowie I said this, but Josh is smoking hot. He always looks like he’s ready for a GQ photo shoot.”

  “What if I d-d-d-d-don’t want to pose for GQ?” Magnus asked.

  Katie lifted one arm for a shrug. “Then that’s not the look for you, but I don’t think that’s what June is trying to do. She has a knack for helping you find your own style—something that suits you even if at first it surprises you. She can read people well…although she can’t always understand why people aren’t as naturally self-possessed as she is. It’s like she can divine everyone’s strengths, but not their vulnerabilities. In June’s opinion, people don’t have weaknesses, just character quirks that make them unique. I think that’s why people tend to like her so much.”

  Just then, Magnus heard June calling his name. Katie lowered her voice and said, “Go easy on her. The more June pushes, the more she cares about you.”

  Now that surprised Magnus. He doubted very much that the lass had any feelings for him. He was her latest pet project; that was all. Hadn’t Katie all but admitted June liked fixing people? And Magnus was perfectly happy with himself as he was.

  Katie leaned even closer. “I’m not sure if June even knows this, but I think she has a crush on you. I’ve never seen her like this with another guy. Give her a chance.”

  “Why are you t-t-t-t-telling m-m-m-me this?”

  “Because I think you like her too,” Katie replied with a surprisingly impish smile that he would expect to see on her stepdaughter, Abby. Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned on her heels and headed back the way she’d come. Before he could process Katie’s claims, she disappeared, and June barreled into view. God save him from American women. He’d thought deciphering the Orcadian lasses was difficult, but the Yanks were an even greater mystery despite their brazen straightforwardness.

  Magnus crossed his arms. “I like my beard the way it is.”

  June studied him, her green eyes penetrating. Magnus thought of what Katie had said about June detecting the strengths in people. He wondered for a moment what she saw in him.

  “No, you don’t,” June said finally.

  “Do not tell me what I wish or do not wish.”

  June’s eyes burned brightly, reminding him once more of the aurora borealis. “You use your facial hair to hide.”

  Magnus opened his mouth to deny it, but the truth smacked him with the force of a cow’s kick to the gut. Aw, goat’s baws. She was right.

  “You don’t wear your hair or beard like a Viking berserker because you like the look. You do it to tell people to fuck off. You want to appear tough and a little wild, so people will leave you alone. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

  Magnus glared at the lass. The fact she was right and was pointing out truths about himself annoyed him.

  “You want to sell books, right?”

  He nodded reluctantly, knowing conceding that point would cost him.

  “Well, the hermit vibe is no longer working for you, Magnus,” June told him matter-of-factly. “People want to get to know you, and they can’t with all that hair hiding your smile, and something tells me you’ve got a beautiful one.”

  Magnus snorted. “I have an ugly mush.”

  Confusion clouded June’s eyes. For once he’d succeeded in unsettling the lass instead of the other way around. “Mush?” she repeated.

  “Face. I think Americans call it a mug.”

  June cocked her head to the side, examining him. It felt as if she was trying to shave him using her eyes.

  Firmly, she shook her head. “No. No, you don’t. On a child’s face, your features would have been as harsh as lye soap, but you’ve grown into them just fine.”

  Heat suffused Magnus’s cheeks. He didn’t know how to respond to June. She managed to both flatter and insult him. Katie’s words rushed back to him, I think she has a crush on you. His flush flamed even hotter. There’d been women, aye, especially back in his roughneck days. Lasses who didn’t mind a woolly-bearded man like himself sharing their beds. But all they’d been to each other was a warm, willing body, looking for some comfort and release, nothing more. None of the women had fancied him as a person. He’d been as interchangeable to them as they to him. He supposed if he’d wanted, he could have found a good woman and settled down, even before he’d become a bestselling author. But not with a lass who looked like June Winters.

  “I’ll not go clean-shaven,” Magnus said.

  By her grin, she knew she’d already won. “A bit of scruff will be perfect on you. Women love a little mystery.”

  Magnus snorted. “I want to sell books, not sex.”

  “Honey, sex sells everything.”

  “You’re not going to let this be, are you?” Magnus asked.

  Her pink lips curled even more. “Nope.”

  He sighed. When Magnus thought about it, the lass did have the right of it. He hadn’t chosen his hairstyle because he particularly liked it. His facial hair had provided protection from wind and ice when he worked on the oil rig. It had been easier to maintain and less fuss. He’d noticed when he’d moved to Glasgow and then to London that it kept people from asking too many questions. A wild look demanded respect and instilled instinctual trepidation. But according to his editor and agent, he needed to appear charming, not menacing.

  “What do you have in mind, lass?” Magnus asked. He had no bloody idea what hairstyle would look best. His da had always said it was no use spending money to go to the barber on Tammay. He’d cut Magnus’s hair, and Magnus had trimmed his da’s. When Magnus had worked as a roughneck, he’d worn it at the length that allowed him to cut it himself. He’d never seen a reason to change that until June’s prodding.

  But the expression on the lass’s face made Magnus further doubt his decision to change his looks…even if the delight in June’s bonny green eyes did trigger an unusual thrill deep inside him.

  * * *

  Two days later, June realized she’d been wrong. Under all his shaggy hair, Magnus wasn’t merely striking. No. He was even more devastatingly compelling than she’d suspected. The stylist she’d recommended in the nearby city had done wonders. Although Magnus still sported a full beard, it had been shaped and trimmed to highlight his rugged features, instead of obscuring them. The stylist had left enough of Magnus’s unruly curls to balance out the harsh planes of his face, giving a charming twist to his new look.

  Pausing in the middle of the zoo’s path, June pressed her hand against her heart. “Don’t you look like a long, tall glass of cool water.”

  Magnus blinked. His blue eyes seemed electric now that they no longer had to fight against all that hair. June felt a pang in her heart that sent desire spiraling through her body like a firecracker lighting up the July sky. My, my, but the man had a powerful effect on her senses.

  “Is that a compliment or an insult, lass?”

  “Compliment, at least from where my mama grew up. Ooo, your readers are going to looove your videos now!”

  Magnus scowled. With his beard trimmed, he looked even fiercer. To June’s surprise, a shiver slid through her, but it wasn’t from fear. Goodness, her mind must be going as soft as taffy if she found his brooding nature attractive. Yet something deep and feminine inside her just thrilled at the sight of him in all his surliness.

  “We should get started.” Magnus ended the conversation as he pushed open the door to the maintenance facility. June followed, admiring the man’s backside. She’d never paid attention to it before, which was a little surprising considering how many times he’d walked away from her. And, good heavenly days, did the man have a fine posterior! He might not be like her typical lovers, but June was starting to think she was more than ready for a change.

  When Magnus entered the nursery, Sorcha fr
oze, her black eyes studying him in confusion. She was obviously having difficulties reconciling his familiar scent with his new appearance. With a happy trill, she finally accepted him without his mass of hair. As quickly as her unsteady legs would allow, she slithered and crawled around her playpen, squeaking the whole time with utter joy. In response, Magnus’s face broke into a welcoming grin as he crouched down to greet the little cub and Sylvia. June’s heart went as soft and gooey as a melted chocolate bar.

  “I think someone has a little crush on you,” June observed.

  Now that Magnus’s beard was trimmed, his fair Scottish complexion did little to hide the fierce blush creeping over his skin. “Aye,” he said, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through June, “that’s what I hear.”

  June glanced at Magnus, not quite understanding his response. The heat in his blue eyes seared her. Her throat thickened as her body went pliant with molten desire. A mere look had never managed to kindle this much lust. Her lips parted, and Magnus’s scorching gaze focused there. The fire flickering in his cobalt irises matched the one blazing inside her. He stood up slowly, and June’s body went taut with anticipation. Her heart pumped faster, sending the flames higher. If he didn’t kiss her soon, she’d burn up like dry tinder in autumn.

  Magnus’s lips dipped close to hers, and she could feel the puff of his breath. Despite the warmth roaring through her, she shivered. His large hand reached up, cupping the back of her head in a tender grasp. She inhaled, practically tasting his kiss.

  Then, just as Magnus’s mouth began to brush against hers, a loud squeak ricocheted through the room. It was as effective as a fire hose. Magnus sprang back, and to June’s surprise, a look of alarm flashed across his face. He hadn’t wanted to kiss her, she realized with a shock as stinging and as unpleasant as a real one from an electrical outlet.

  Magnus’s face went blank and then softened as he glanced down at the floor. Still in a fog, June followed the direction of his eyes. With beseeching black eyes, little Sorcha playfully tried to bat his leg through her playpen. She clearly wanted to cuddle.