Sweet Wild of Mine

by Laurel Kerr

  June swallowed at the joy rising up. She felt so alive with happiness it almost hurt. “I love you, Magnus.”

  “I love you too, and I didn’t think I was capable of that emotion.”

  She stepped forward and brushed her hand against his cheek. “Magnus, you’ve always had a deep capacity for affection. I brought it to the surface, that’s all.”

  Just then, she heard the crunch of gravel on the path. Bowie appeared with Hank, Lulubelle, and Savannah. The girl camels had wreaths of flowers on their woolly heads and silly grins on their faces. Hank wore an equally absurd smile and a saddle on his back. Wordlessly, Bowie handed Magnus the lead rope. He gave a bob of his head, then turned and disappeared the way he’d come.

  June raised an eyebrow as a giddy ball of excitement began to form inside her. “Magnus, what do you have up the sleeve of your Prince Charlie jacket?”

  “Would you like to take a ride on Hank and see?” Magnus asked.

  “This is beginning to sound like quite an adventure,” June said as she let Magnus help her onto the massive camel.

  “June, my life has been an adventure since the moment you walked up to me in the Prairie Dog Café.”

  June paused in settling onto Hank’s hump. “What kind of an adventure? That statement can go either way, darlin’.”

  Magnus chuckled. “The kind that’s pure magic.”

  Satisfied with the response, June made herself as comfortable as she could. It wasn’t easy considering the male camel’s height, broad body, and swaying gait. Horseback riding was definitely easier, but without the pizazz, and June did love pizazz.

  Magnus led their small caravan through the zoo. When they wound past the grizzly’s exhibit, he paused. “See, Frida, I told you I’d bring her by.”

  Frida lumbered over to the edge of the moat and sniffed the air. “I’m here,” June called, knowing the elderly bear couldn’t spot her from this distance. Frida gave a grunt that sounded almost like approval. Then, without any fanfare, she turned and walked directly over to her favorite rock. With a sigh, she rested her chin on its edge and promptly fell asleep.

  Magnus chuckled. “I suppose she thinks her work is complete.”

  “What work?” June asked.

  Magnus responded with a broad grin. “Wooing you, lass.”

  Before she could respond to that interesting statement, Magnus pulled on Hank’s lead and brought them past Sorcha’s new exhibit. June looked for the little cub, but she didn’t spot her among the rocks or in her pool. “Isn’t Sorcha out?”

  “She’s back in the nursery. She has a surprise for you.”

  “What kind of surprise?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Why, aren’t you full of mystery today,” June observed as they reached the maintenance facility. Bowie and Abby came out. The tween was trying hard to stay solemn, but a giggle escaped her lips. She clasped her hand over her mouth, but she couldn’t mask the joy that had overtaken her pixie-like features. Her father did a better job of staying stoic as he gave Magnus an indecipherable signal, but his gray eyes sparkled just as much as his daughter’s. Excitement zipped through June as Magnus helped her dismount. Leaving Bowie and Abby outside with the camels, they headed straight for the nursery. When they reached the door, Magnus gave her a little nudge.

  “You go first.”

  Curious, her heart beating like a snare drum at a military tattoo, June pushed on the handle and peered inside. Sorcha glanced up from the toy she’d been tussling. The polar bear lay on her back, her paws in the air as she tossed the stuffed animal. She paused, her bright eyes focusing on them. When the cub spotted Magnus behind June, she scrambled and dashed over. Although she’d put on weight and muscle, she still remained a baby. Making happy sounds, she pawed at Magnus’s thick boots.

  That’s when June saw it.

  A huge bow hung around Sorcha’s neck with a jewelry box nestled in its center. Although June had been half expecting it, the sight of the velvet container triggered a rush of joy. Bringing her hands to her mouth, June watched as Magnus got down on one knee. Carefully removing the ribbon from Sorcha, he opened the box.

  “Will you m-m-marry me, lass?”

  June nodded, tears springing to her eyes. A few welled over as she dropped to her knees beside him. Unable to speak, she could only nod. They gathered each other close as Sorcha watched them curiously. Magnus kissed June, long and deep. When he broke away, he framed her face with his hands and stared down at her, his blue eyes bright.

  “You are home to me, lass. I’m finally ready to put down roots. Will you show me how?”

  She nodded her head, ignoring the tears trickling down her cheeks. Grasping his hand in hers, she squeezed tightly. “We’ll make sure to plant them good and deep because you’re home to me too, Magnus Gray.”

  For more Where the Wild Hearts Are,

  check out book one in the series

  Wild On My Mind

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  Author’s Note

  Although Orkney is a real island chain to the north of Scotland, Magnus’s home isle of Tammay and the nearby Bjaray are wholly from my imagination. With its treasure trove of Neolithic, Pictish, and Norse monuments, Orkney has long held my fascination. As I researched the isles, I fell more in love with their natural beauty. After I finished my first draft of Sweet Wild of Mine, I was fortunate to travel to both Mainland (the main island in the chain) and Papa Westray, one of Orkney’s northern most islands. I pictured Tammay and Bjaray as even farther north and to the east, almost between North Ronaldsay (another Orcadian island) and Fair Isle, which is considered part of the Shetland island chain. It is truly a magical place with breathtaking sea cliffs, verdant green hills, ancient stone structures, incredible wildlife, and welcoming locals. Orkney’s roots are both Norse and Scottish, making for a culture and language that is uniquely its own.

  Fluffy and Honey’s relationship was interesting and, at times, challenging to write, especially in the context of a romance novel. Given their acerbic temperaments, honey badgers are unsurprisingly very antisocial. In the wild, the adults rarely interact, except to mate. And, like many couplings in the animal kingdom, it isn’t exactly rose petals and mood music, especially for the female. Luckily for the purposes of the tale I was telling, there is evidence of captive honey badgers forming attachments to each other. The original Houdini honey badger (Stoffel of Moholoholo Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre in South Africa) had a girlfriend who aided and abetted in his escapes. Since both Honey and Fluffy have been around silly bipeds their entire lives, I thought it was very likely that they would bond with each other and discover that getting into mischief together was more fun than doing it alone.

  There is also conflicting information regarding the gestation period of honey badgers. Some sources say that females are pregnant for six months, while others state six to eight weeks. This is a significant variance. HoneyBadger.com speculates that this difference may depend on whether the honey badgers are living in colder or warmer climes. I chose the shorter time frame as it fit better with the plot.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to extend a special thank you to my editor, Deb Werksman, who saw the potential hiding in my original draft of the first book in the Where the Wild Hearts Are series. Her insightful recommendations helped guide me to create the vivid world of Sagebrush Zoo and its delightful animal residents.

  I also owe a huge thanks to my agent, Sarah Phair, who was the first person in the industry to believe in my writing and who worked hard to make sure this series would become a reality.

  The entire Sourcebooks Casablanca team has done such an amazing job in marketing Where the Wild Hearts Are. Each time, the art department perfectly captures the emotional heart of the book with their wonderful covers.

  Thank you also to my family, who has always supported me—from answering my endless questions about
my latest draft to challenging me with their constructive criticism.

  I also want to thank the people of Orkney for not minding all the inquiries made by an eager American tourist.

  Don’t miss the first book in the Where the Wild Hearts Are series by Laurel Kerr. Meet all of Sagebrush Zoo’s rambunctious characters and fall in love!

  The increasingly insistent squeaks broke through Katie Underwood’s intense concentration. Cocking her head to the side, she paused in her drawing. The chirping grew more and more demanding, the sound bouncing off the sandstone rocks surrounding her. At first, Katie thought a flock of birds was scolding her for invading their sanctuary, but she didn’t spot any flying overhead in the waning light.

  She started to turn back to her sketchbook, intent on taking advantage of the last rays before the sun dipped below the horizon, but something stopped her. The squeaking had the plaintive quality of an animal calling for help, and Katie had never been able to resist a wounded critter. Shoving her art supplies in her backpack, she followed the direction of the sound. Climbing a few feet above the ledge where she’d been sketching, she realized the cries originated from a cave that she remembered from childhood games with her four brothers.

  Dropping to her hands and knees, Katie peered inside the crevice, wishing she had a flashlight. The pearly glow of twilight barely reached the back of the small alcove. She would have crawled inside, but both cougars and wolves haunted this sandstone promontory. As much as Katie loved wild creatures, she did not wish to encounter a wounded predator in a tight space.

  Once her eyes finally adjusted to the gloom, Katie’s heart simply melted. Tucked into a corner lay three squirming cougar cubs. One of the disgruntled fluffs chose that exact moment to howl its displeasure. A tiny pink mouth, framed by delicate whiskers, opened wide as the kit mewed in frustration. Katie could just barely make out the black spots peppering its grayish-brown fur.

  She started to crawl forward and then stopped. Katie didn’t know what would happen if she got her scent on the little guys. Resting on her haunches, she debated her next step. The mother might return, but Katie couldn’t shake the feeling that the kits were either orphaned or abandoned. A neighboring rancher had recently been complaining about attacks on his livestock by pumas, which is what he called cougars or mountain lions, and he’d been known to shoot them in the past.

  Katie reached for her cell phone. No signal. She would need to climb down to the old homestead and use the landline. Before she left, Katie stared back into the crevice where the cubs clumsily toddled in search of milk. “Don’t worry, babies,” she promised. “I’ll be back with help.”

  * * *

  As Bowie Wilson made the sharp turn onto the old Hallister spread, the suspension of his ancient pickup groaned loudly. He had a hell of a time keeping the vehicle running. The zoo sorely needed a new truck, but funds were tight and getting worse. They’d barely staved off foreclosure this past winter, and attendance hadn’t picked up this spring. They were down to just a handful of volunteers and staff—a far cry from the animal park’s heyday.

  Pulling up to the old homestead, Bowie cut the engine and turned to wake his passenger, the former owner of the zoo. The eighty-year-old had fallen asleep on the twenty-minute drive to the ranch. Bowie had debated whether to bring Lou, since the older man generally headed to bed about now. But, unlike Bowie, Lou was a trained vet, and he could immediately start treatment on the cubs if they were seriously dehydrated or malnourished.

  As Bowie waited for Lou to descend from the pickup, the front door to the old ranch house banged open. A woman, backlit by the porch light, waved. Although Bowie couldn’t make out her features, he could easily spot the flash of her fiery-red hair. As she stepped out of the brightness and moved closer, the moonlight washed over her and gently illuminated her face. Her brown eyes widened at the sight of him.

  Bowie couldn’t quite read her emotion. Shock? Dismay? Recognition? Considering the size of their town, the latter was likely, but despite the fact that she seemed vaguely familiar, he couldn’t place her. And he was pretty certain he’d remember a woman like her: all curly auburn hair, curves in the right places, and expressive chocolate-brown eyes. She exuded an earthy sexiness that appealed to him, awakening sensations that had lain dormant for far too long. Between his responsibilities as a single dad with an eleven-year-old daughter and his duties at the zoo, Bowie hadn’t been with a woman in years.

  Unfortunately, he had no time to appreciate this one. At least not now. Not with abandoned cougar cubs to rescue.

  The woman focused her attention on Lou. “My parents are inside if you want to wait with them. It’s a pretty difficult climb to the cubs.”

  Lou thanked her and headed to the homestead. The woman waited until he had disappeared into the house before she whirled back to Bowie. She thrust a headlamp in his direction, smacking his chest in the process.

  “Here, take this. You’ll need it to see,” she bit out before she turned and strode gracefully toward the rock promontory silhouetted against the starry sky. Something about her gait reminded him of an Amazon warrior. An irate one. Although he’d spent most of his youth with adults angry at him—some with cause, some without—Bowie wasn’t accustomed to facing a hot blast of fury anymore. He lived a quiet life now, and he had no idea what he could’ve done to upset this particular woman. It would be his crappy luck that the one female who attracted him also instinctually hated his guts.

  When the woman reached the base of the rock formation, she bounded up the lower boulders with the surefootedness of a mountain goat. Even if she had taken an immediate dislike to him, Bowie found his eyes following her lithe shape in the dim light. She moved with a combination of fluidity and unbound energy that made him wonder what she’d be like in bed.

  Forcing those unprofessional thoughts from his mind, he concentrated on finding footholds. It wasn’t easy keeping pace. His reluctant guide clambered up the cliff almost as quickly as she walked. Bowie figured she must know the land pretty well, since only moonlight illuminated the landscape, and she hadn’t turned on her headlamp.

  “I guess you’ve climbed here before,” he said.

  She nodded, but she still didn’t seem too happy. “Yes. My mom’s folks, the Hallisters, lived out here, so I grew up playing on these rocks with my brothers. My parents moved out here after my dad’s retirement.”

  That could explain why she looked vaguely familiar, but not her anger toward him. Perhaps he’d seen her around as a kid when she’d visited her relatives. She looked close to Bowie’s age, and in his early teens, he’d worked on a ranch nearby. That was until he’d broken his leg and the rancher, who’d been his foster parent, had thrown him right back into the system. Bowie had never known a real home before Lou and his late wife, Gretchen, had taken him in after yet another guardian had kicked him out on his eighteenth birthday when the reimbursement checks stopped.

  Deciding to try one more time to befriend the woman, Bowie asked, “So did you come to Sagebrush Flats a lot as a kid?”

  She gave a snort of patent disgust. Even though the climb had just become more difficult, the woman picked up speed. Confused as hell, Bowie had no choice but to follow her up the cliff.

  * * *

  If the lives of baby cougars hadn’t hung in balance, Katie would have left Bowie Wilson stranded on the rocks until morning. After all, he’d done a lot worse to her back in high school. And despite all his horrible pranks, he’d apparently forgotten that she had ever existed.

  That angered Katie more than anything. With all that Bowie had made her endure, she deserved at least a sliver of room in his memory. Even after high school graduation, she would wake up in her dorm, dreaming of her old classmates laughing at her. Because of Bowie.

  Oh, she knew Bowie was the mastermind behind all the awful tricks. His high school girlfriend, Sawyer Johnson, might have taunted Katie since elementary sc
hool, but it had never amounted to more than snide and not very clever remarks before Sawyer had started dating Bowie. Sure, some of Sawyer’s comments had hurt, but they hadn’t scarred and certainly hadn’t caused the all-consuming humiliation that Bowie’s pranks had.

  And what horrible thing had Katie done to Bowie to warrant such malicious attention?

  She’d had the temerity to form an innocent, schoolgirl crush on him. That was all.

  Katie had never even acted on her feelings. She doubted that Bowie would ever have noticed her if Sawyer hadn’t pointed out Katie’s secret infatuation. Through the years, Katie had never been able to figure out exactly why Bowie had decided to target her so viciously. Sawyer had never liked Katie, and Bowie might have just enjoyed making other people suffer. Either way, she’d become his favorite mark. And it had all started in the worst way possible.

  Bowie had duped Katie into believing that he returned her feelings. For two weeks, Katie had lived in euphoric bliss, oblivious to the fact that Bowie was dating Sawyer. In retrospect, Katie should have realized that the cute bad boy would have had no interest in the nerdy girl. However, teen TV shows told a different story, and she’d stupidly believed the fantasy they peddled.

  Which was how Bowie had managed to trick Katie into kissing a pig in the janitor’s closet. Even worse, Sawyer had filmed the entire horrifying episode and slipped a clip of Katie puckering up to the hog into the student-run morning announcement program that ran on the televisions anchored at the front of each homeroom. For the rest of her high school career, she’d become known as “Katie the Pig-Kisser.” That is, if they weren’t calling her the oh-so-creative “Katie Underwear,” a name Sawyer had coined in the first grade.