Werewolf in the North Woods: A Wild About You Novel

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Lucky for you I can be trusted not to blab.”

  His gaze intensified. “Everything depends on that, Abby.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. She’d come this far, so she might as well see this through. “But in return for not blabbing, you have to take me on your Sasquatch hunt.”

  “Looks like I do.”

  “Then let’s get going.” She reached for the door handle. “We could make some progress this afternoon. Where should we meet?”

  “At Dooley’s General Store. I want to accept your grandfather’s offer of camping supplies so we can stay out there. That would increase the chance of finding the Sasquatch pair and decrease the chance that the Gentrys will know you’re with me.”

  “You don’t want them to know?”

  “I think it’s better if they don’t. They’d think I was fraternizing with the enemy by taking Earl’s granddaughter along on a Sasquatch hunt.”

  “Sure. Okay.” She squashed the uneasy feeling in her tummy. Better not to think about the fact that she’d just agreed to spend at least one night in the woods with a werewolf. “Small matter, but do you . . . ah . . . shift every night? I mean, it’s okay if you do. I’m totally cool with that. Don’t worry about me freaking out or anything, but it might be good for me to know what—”

  “I only shift when I choose to.”

  “Oh.” What a surreal discussion. “So that whole full moon thing is not an issue?”

  “Not anymore. We’ve—I’ve evolved to the point where the phase of the moon or time of day doesn’t matter.”

  “Good to know.” But she’d caught his little slip with the we part of that sentence. He wasn’t the only werewolf in the world.

  “So in other words, I’m in full control of my shift, so you don’t have to worry about . . .” He smiled. “Spontaneous fur.”

  “I do believe you just made a joke.” She lowered her voice. “A werewolf joke.”

  “You were looking a little tense.”

  “I think that’s perfectly understandable, under the circumstances, don’t you?”

  “Yes. In fact, I think you’re handling this amazingly well.”

  “Thank you. I do have one question.” A car with the sound system blaring drove past and she waited until the noise died down. “Let’s say we’re out in the woods, and you feel the need to shift. And then let’s say you bite me, either by accident or on purpose.”

  “I won’t, either by accident or on purpose.”

  “Pretend that you did, for the sake of argument. Would I become one of your kind?”

  “No. That’s a myth.”

  “Yes, but you’re a myth. If you’re real, then anything is possible, including the stories about bites turning the human into . . . you know. Those stories must be based on something.”

  “They’re based on fear and superstition.”

  “So if you don’t make new werewolves by biting people, then how do you become one?”

  “Born that way.”

  She knew a little something about genetics. If Roarke had been born a werewolf, then he had others in his family tree. And she suspected that the Gentrys did, too. It was a lot to assimilate. She took a shaky breath and told herself to stay calm.

  Roarke crossed his forearms over the steering wheel and glanced at her. “You don’t have to go with me. I can come back and tell you what I saw. Wouldn’t that be enough evidence for you to relay to your grandfather ?”

  She shook her head. “Not if I can be an eyewitness.” Obviously he’d picked up on her nervousness. “I was just trying to get an idea of what to expect.”

  “No biting.”

  Taking another deep breath, she studied him. “I believe you because your eyes didn’t flicker.”

  “What?”

  “When you were giving your talks and you insisted Bigfoot was an imaginary creature, your eyes flickered. I’ve learned at work that people do that when they’re falsifying a claim.”

  “Are you saying that I need some practice at lying?”

  “No, I’m saying that you might as well tell me the truth, because I’ll know when you don’t.”

  He met her gaze. “Fair enough. So how did you get here?”

  “In my grandfather’s old truck. It’s parked on the next level.”

  “If you’ll give me the keys, I’ll drive you there.”

  She unzipped her purse and took them out. “I suppose if you’d really wanted to harm me, this little ploy wouldn’t have mattered.” She handed him the keys.

  “No.” He took the keys, put them in the ignition, and started the car. “Confronting me today was a reckless thing to do.”

  As the truth of that sank in, she leaned back with a sigh. “Guess I’m lucky you decided to be nice about this, huh?”

  “Yes.” He checked the rearview mirror and backed out of the parking space. “Yes, you are.”

  Roarke texted Cameron that he was heading out into the woods and wouldn’t be back until he’d located the Sasquatch pair. Cameron’s return text was short and to the point. C that U do.

  After gathering up a change of clothes and some toiletry items, Roarke tossed them in a backpack and set out for the general store. He would have loved to drive the red Corvette, but he couldn’t risk parking it anywhere near the store, so he walked the two miles separating the Gentrys’ front gate from Earl’s place. The ever-present light rain settled on his shoulders, but he wore a waterproof jacket and an NYU ball cap, so he didn’t get very wet.

  The mechanical bird noise twittered when he opened the door, and Earl came to greet him, all smiles. “Abby’s in the back getting her stuff together. This is terrific, Roarke, just terrific. When Abby told me you wanted to mount an expedition to hunt for Bigfoot, I felt like dancing a jig, although I decided against it because I might fall down.”

  “That story of yours was very persuasive, Earl.”

  “But you had to take time to let it sink in.” Earl’s blue eyes were bright behind his glasses. “I understand that. I’m the same. Don’t like to jump on the bandwagon until I’ve had a chance to assimilate the information. I admire that kind of caution in a man.”

  “Maybe I’m just dense.” Roarke slipped off his backpack and left it by the front door.

  “I don’t think so.” Earl clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go pick out some camping gear. And before you even offer to pay, I want you to know the supplies are on the house.”

  “That’s not right.”

  “Of course it is. I feel as if I’m mounting an expedition, sort of like when Queen Isabella sent Christopher Columbus out to find the New World. She couldn’t go herself, but she provided the wherewithal. That’s my position right now, and the least I can do is finance this trip.”

  “But—”

  “I know that you can afford to pay me. Anybody who wears a watch as valuable as yours could probably buy the entire contents of my store without putting much of a dent in your checkbook.”

  “Earl, I—”

  “But your ability to pay is not the issue. You’re going out on a mission that could settle the Bigfoot question once and for all. You can’t imagine how much that effort means to me. Now let’s go look at tents.”

  Feeling guilty as hell because he didn’t deserve Earl’s goodwill, Roarke followed him to the shelves stacked with various types of tents. If Earl knew he was sending his granddaughter out in the woods with a werewolf, he wouldn’t be so eager to outfit this expedition.

  “I favor this one, myself.” Earl patted a box containing a one-person nylon tent that resembled the kind Roarke used himself on research trips.

  “I have one like that at home.”

  “Good. Then you’ll be used to it. You might as well take the same type for Abby. I doubt she’s been camping in a good long while, so she’s not familiar with the new models. She’ll like this one. It’s light enough that she can carry it and a sleeping bag.”

  Tents. Sleeping bags. Roarke had been trying not to think
of the night to come, when he and Abby would be alone in a secluded part of the forest. He had a special fondness for sex in a forest setting, and that, added to his growing fondness for Abby, could create a perfect storm of lust.

  The irony wasn’t lost on him. Several months ago he’d lectured his big brother, Aidan, for getting into a similar fix with Emma. Casual sex with a human was one thing, but when the chemistry was this strong, the Were community advised against sexual involvement.

  Of course, in Aidan’s case, Emma hadn’t known he was a werewolf when they first had sex. Abby already knew, so Roarke no longer had to worry about revealing that particular secret during pillow talk. But Abby’s knowledge was still very limited, and he needed to keep it that way, which meant staying out of her tent and her sleeping bag.

  “These sleeping bags are great, too.” Earl pulled a couple of small packages from a different shelf. “They roll up into practically nothing, but they’re warm as toast.”

  Roarke eyed his backpack propped by the front door. “We’ll need some food, too—enough for a couple of days, anyway. I don’t think my backpack is going to be big enough.”

  Earl gestured toward a row of packs and frames hanging on the wall. “Take your pick.”

  “Do you have one I can borrow rather than taking one that’s new?”

  “Sure, I do, but—”

  “Then let’s do that. You may not get to go, but your backpack can.”

  Earl grinned. “I like that. Man, I wish I could tag along! Abby offered to call me from the trail, but from what hikers tell me, the reception’s no good out there.”

  “Probably not.” Roarke took his BlackBerry out and wondered if he should have left it back at the Gentrys.

  Just then Abby walked out with a medium-sized pack over her shoulder.

  He held up his BlackBerry. “Are you taking yours?”

  “I’m taking it, but I doubt it’ll get reception.” She hefted her backpack. “I just realized this pack might be too small for what I need to carry.”

  “No problem,” Earl said. “Roarke and I have that covered, don’t we, Roarke?” The old guy sounded like a kid with a new best friend. “I’m loaning him my big pack. I’ll have it out here in a jiffy. Abby, help Roarke pick out some food.”

  “Be glad to.” Abby walked toward him, bringing her delicious scent with her.

  She’d opted for a navy Lycra sweat suit. Its dark color was a stark contrast to her bright hair, which she’d pulled into a ponytail. But mostly Roarke noticed how the stretchy material hugged her body, making him aware of every tantalizing curve.

  “Grandpa Earl is so excited,” she said in a low voice. “Having someone with your background agree to go on this expedition is a dream come true for him. I wish he could go instead of me, but he’s just not up to it.”

  “I wish he could go, too.” For many reasons that he wasn’t going to share with her.

  “But of course that wouldn’t work, both because of his arthritis and because . . . he doesn’t know about . . . you know.” She moved closer and spoke in a soft whisper. “Are you bringing clothes?”

  The jolt of excitement that shot through him stirred him in places that needed to stay calm, very calm. What in hell was she implying with that question? “Yeah, I am.” His voice had taken on the husky tone of arousal and he couldn’t seem to do much about that. “Why?”

  She edged close enough that they were almost touching. “I figured out that you can probably search better in wolf form, so all this camping gear isn’t necessary for you, but I understand why you’re playing along.”

  Oh. She wasn’t thinking they’d run naked through the woods together. She was thinking he’d spend most of the next couple of days wearing his fur coat. “This will be a normal camping trip,” he said. “Or as normal as possible, considering what we’re looking for.”

  “But what about—”

  “Hey, you two!” Earl came out of the back carrying his pack. “Quit gabbing and get ready to go!”

  “The man’s right.” Roarke stepped away from Abby, which slightly reduced his urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her until they were both breathless.

  Getting on with the program should help. Once they left the store and were striding through the forest, each of them intent on their purpose for being there, he’d be better able to tuck away this inconvenient attraction.

  Then Abby leaned over to take something from one of the lower shelves and the action presented him with a perfect view of her round, firm bottom. He coughed to cover the groan that rose from his throat. What was it about this woman that affected him so?

  Yet he knew, and he didn’t want to know. From the first time he’d caught her scent, he’d understood on some level that he was in trouble. He would not complicate his life the way his brother had by falling for a human female. But that was exactly what his body was telling him to do.

  Chapter 7

  Abby was more familiar with the trails than Roarke, although it had been a while since she’d hiked them. Still, she offered to lead the way for the first couple of hours. Out of pride she kept up a good pace, which didn’t leave her much energy for conversation.

  Roarke didn’t seem inclined to talk, either, so they moved along in silence through the misty rain. Toward the end of the second hour, she was forced to admit that she was woefully out of shape. Her legs hurt and an ache had developed between her shoulder blades from carrying the pack, although hers was half the size of Roarke’s. If he hadn’t volunteered to take more than his share, she’d have been toast.

  About the time she was questioning whether she’d made a mistake in coming on this trip, Roarke suggested a food break.

  “Sounds good.” Thank God. Grandpa Earl had packed turkey sandwiches once he’d realized neither of them had eaten lunch, and she was carrying them. That would eliminate one thing from her pack. It might not make a huge difference, but she’d take any lightening of the load, no matter how small.

  She didn’t plan to let Roarke know that, though. After blackmailing him to take her along, she couldn’t very well complain that she couldn’t handle the hike. Unfortunately for her, the trail had been relatively level up to this point, but soon it would grow steeper.

  Glancing around, she noticed a somewhat dry spot under a large fir. “Let’s go over there.”

  Roarke followed her under the tree and slid his pack from his shoulders. The rugged look of his tan windbreaker and worn jeans had banished the nerdy professor entirely. In his place stood a guy who would make any woman’s heart beat faster. Abby had tried to be nonchalant about the transformation, but damn, he was serious eye candy. She could imagine that if he walked into a classroom looking like this, his female students would be too distracted to learn anything.

  Fishing inside his backpack, he pulled out a small tarp before spreading it on the ground. “I think you have the sandwiches.”

  “Yep.” She lowered her pack to the ground and clenched her jaw to keep from sighing in relief.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Great!” She unzipped her pack and pulled out the sandwiches. “How are you doing?” She handed him a sandwich before taking a seat on the tarp.

  “Okay, but I’m used to this. I’m out in the field a lot with my work. Earl didn’t think you’d been hiking or camping lately, so I wondered if the pack is bothering you.”

  “Not at all.”

  He smiled. “Your eyes just flickered.”

  “A bug flew in my face.”

  “It’s too rainy for bugs. Is your back getting sore?”

  She decided to admit to the crick between her shoulder blades but not the ache in her legs. “A little.”

  “I can take some of your stuff in my pack.”

  “No way. You’re already loaded, starting with Grandpa Earl’s camera.” She ticked off the other items. “Sleeping bag, tent, the mini camp stove, fuel canisters, cookware, and all the food except for our sandwiches. Once we eat these, I won’t be carrying
anything except my clothes, my sleeping bag, and my tent.”

  “Which is a lot if you’re not used to it.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He looked as if he wanted to argue the point.

  “Seriously, Roarke. Don’t baby me.”

  He gave a slow nod. “All right.” Respect flashed in his gaze before he turned his attention to his sandwich. Unwrapping it, he took a bite. “Mmm.” He chewed and swallowed. “Food always tastes better out in the woods.” He took another bite.

  “It does.” Or it would, if she had the energy and inclination to lift her sandwich. Instead she found herself dreamily focused on his beautiful mouth.

  The line of his upper lip dipped into a classic Cupid’s bow that she longed to trace with her finger . . . or better yet, her tongue. After that she’d explore the small crease in the middle of his full lower lip. Yesterday’s kiss had been too brief. Roarke’s mouth invited a woman to taste it slowly, savoring every part of the experience.

  “Are you going to eat that?”

  She blinked and hoped to hell he hadn’t caught her gawking at him. Then she realized he was focused on the sandwich still in her lap. “Yes.”

  She dutifully started eating. She needed to keep up her strength and it gave her something to do with her mouth since she obviously wouldn’t be kissing Roarke anytime soon.

  He appeared to be all business so far on this trip, which was as it should be. They each had a one-person tent and sleeping bag. Judging from the way her body felt after only a couple hours of hiking, she’d be in no condition to do more than crawl in and conk out, so the solo sleeping arrangements were just as well.

  Roarke picked up his stainless-steel water bottle and took a drink. “One good thing, we don’t have to carry water on this trip. I love being able to refill my bottle from a stream. Water bottles get really heavy.”

  “That’s probably why I’ve fallen out of the habit of taking long hikes.” That was her excuse for being so out of shape, and she was sticking to it. “In the desert you have to take so much water that it weighs you down.”

  “But you like it there?”