by Edith DuBois
“All right, fair enough. But do you think you would at least try it? To see if it could work for us?”
As she had lain against him, his body heat soaked all the way through her, moving deep through her body, through her ribs and her stomach and her heart. She felt like the caterpillar in her cocoon, all soft and liquid and delicate. She sighed against his bare chest, feeling deliciously drowsy. “We can try,” she heard herself promising.
He kissed the top of her head. “Go to sleep then,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”
Chapter Five
Franklin wiped the sweat from his face with an old bandanna one of the Greenwoods had left on the wooden banister of their front porch. He had to admit that the place felt a little spooky without the brothers around and more than half the animal cages empty, but it felt damn good to stand naked in the brisk morning air. He had just finished an early morning run in bear form from his house to the lake and had stopped at the preservation center to shift back, grab some clothes, and check on all the animals while the brothers were gone.
A pale lavender sky lent the lake’s waters a smoky hue, but the sun had already begun to peek over the spiny tops of the forest. A breeze from the lake washed over his body, stirring the hair between his legs and tickling his balls. The blood still coursed fast through his veins from his run, and the tickling sensation brought his shaft straight up until it pressed toward his belly.
A vision of Michelle, naked and panting his name as he plowed into her, flashed through his mind.
“Shit, that’s not helping,” he said aloud. He walked into the lake until it came to his thighs. Chills rippled up his flesh, and without giving himself time to think, he dove in. The shock of coolness on his hot skin washed over him and helped, only minimally, to dampen his ardor.
When he finished his swim, he quickly put on his clothes. After checking the animals and the general well-being of the preservation center, he started walking back toward Main Street. By the time he got to Savage Hunger, it would be about seven, just in time for a fresh batch of Phil’s honey almond muffins. His stomach growled thinking about them.
He didn’t want to think about Michelle, but as he walked toward town, it was all he could do. She’d agreed to go to dinner with him, and not that he was an expert on women, but she seemed pleased with the idea.
Then at the last second, without giving him a reason, she’d canceled. Part of him wanted say, “fuck it,” and just forget about her, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Because the other part of him, the most basic part, wanted to hunt her down, grab her by the shoulders, shake her until her teeth rattled, and then plunge his cock so deep in her cunt that she’d never think about doing that to him again.
Elias had tried to bring up Michelle at Catdaddy’s, but Franklin was never one of those “let’s chit chat over beer and discuss our feelings” kind of guys. Plus, puking on his older brother’s shoes had sort of put a stop to the small talk. Working in a different office and working different schedules made it all too easy to avoid his brothers, and they had been acting strange over the last week.
They’d been shooting him funny looks and dropping weird hints about Michelle, like they were trying to get him to admit something. On the one hand, he tried his damndest to ignore thoughts of Michelle.
On the other hand, he’d never felt so strongly about a woman, and Bo’s words kept moving through his mind. Make damn sure, he’d said.
Well, he intended to do just that. The next time he saw her, he’d—
As he passed Treaty Lane, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, disrupting his thoughts. When he looked down the road toward the north, he saw a lone figure approaching. Squinting his eyes, he could barely make out the telltale black swish of hair. As she neared, his suspicions were confirmed, and in a few short moments, she looked up and saw him waiting for her.
He noticed the small hitch in her step as she realized who waited for her, but she kept coming.
“Morning, Miss Andrews,” he said, more stiffly than he’d intended, but hell, he couldn’t control himself around her.
“Good morning,” she answered, her voice low and sweet from disuse so early in the morning.
“On your way into town?”
“Yes, and you?”
He nodded. “Savage Hunger.”
“Me, too.” She smiled at him, a little nervous he could see. “Aunt Agnes doesn’t ‘believe’ in coffee. I don’t know how that’s possible, but apparently in some parallel universe it is.”
“Marina doesn’t drink coffee, either?” he asked, wanting to confirm that she was totally alone, but he noticed her features tighten for a moment, and then she forced herself to relax.
“If she doesn’t have to, she won’t get out of bed before noon.”
“Ah, so then it’s a little early for pesky younger siblings.”
She shot him a sideways glance and smiled, showing a hint of teeth. “Only for some, it would seem.”
Buoyed by her warmth toward him, he asked, “Michelle?”
“Mmhmm?”
He watched a pair of cardinals chase each other along the old wooden fence that ran along the edge of Main Street. The brown-feathered female darted here and there, always out of reach from her bright-red mate, chirping and teasing as the two birds moved along. “What happened on Friday?”
She sighed. “Pesky younger sibling issues.”
When it didn’t seem like she would say anything more, he asked, “What about them?” Again, his voice came out more sharply than he intended.
Suddenly, she stopped, turning to face him. “She can be difficult, and I know it might not make a lot of sense to people, but she is my sister, and I have to…” She waved her hand, searching, groping for the words. “I need to take care of her. She needs someone…” She looked at him helplessly and then shrugged. “I just couldn’t go.”
He grasped her hands between his and was surprised at how cold they were. “Okay,” he said, pulling her hands up to his chest and rubbing them to warm them.
“Okay?” she asked warily.
He nodded. “Although I can’t pretend it wouldn’t have been nice to know that on Friday.”
“Sorry,” she said, ducking her head with a sheepish grin.
“Well, you’re here now.”
“I am.” She met his eyes and smiled.
Warmth shot through him, and he smiled back. “Now, am I right in guessing you’ve never partaken of Phil’s honey almond muffins?”
“You would be correct.”
“Then you are in for a treat.” They began walking again, but Franklin didn’t let go of her hand. He told himself it was because he didn’t want her getting cold again
They chatted on the way into town, waving to the few folks who were out early on a Sunday morning. He felt an odd sense of pride growing with each person they passed. He liked walking with Michelle, and he liked people to see him walking with Michelle. It felt right.
When the first whiff of coffee and eggs and bacon and muffins greeted their nostrils, a loud grumbling noise came from the petite form next to his.
“Was that your stomach?” he asked, incredulous.
“I think I’ve got a wild bear living in here.”
He choked down his laughter at her offhand remark. As he held the door for her, Rita greeted them, chipper as usual, and then showed them to the Ashley booth in the farthest corner of the diner.
Michelle slid in and looked out the great glass panels behind her. “Wow.” She breathed the word. “This view. I can see morning light glimmering off the tips of the mountains. It’s like the ends of monstrous fiery swords forged from the bowels of the earth poking through the ground.”
“Quite the poet, are we?”
“And that’s pre-coffee,” she said, turning back to him with a sassy lift of her brow.
After Rita brought them a carafe of coffee and they had ordered their muffins, eggs, and bacon, Franklin looked at Michelle with
an appraising eye. “So I guess now it’s time to discuss how you plan on working off your debt.”
She finished sipping her coffee and then set the cup back on the table. “My debt?”
“Well, I’d say a canceled date and no reason until two days later requires some sort of repayment, wouldn’t you?”
“First, it was a day and a half, and second, it depends. What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Hmm…I don’t think that’s how debts work. I’m pretty sure the borrower doesn’t get to choose how she wants to pay back her lender.”
“And what is it exactly that I have taken from you?”
“Oh, my honor as a man….my manly pride…you know, that sort of thing.”
She scooted closer, whispering. “You might want to lower your voice. Small town like this? Rumors have been known to form on far less.”
He leaned down toward her, grinning. “I think my hand inching up your leg would wreak more havoc than a few uttered phrases.” Her eyes widened in shock as he grasped her leg, starting at her knee and niggling his hand up to the sweet softness of her inner thigh. She squeezed her legs tight together, her eyes scanning the diner nervously.
“Franklin, stop. Somebody will see.” She tried to wiggle away, but that made him want to hold on tighter, so he clamped his strong fingers around her flesh. She let out an eek of surprise.
“It seems my fiancé isn’t the only one with questionable table manners.” A prim British voice spoke from across the table, and Franklin and Michelle sprang apart from each other like guilty conspirators.
“Miss Ward,” Michelle said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“And you, but please call me Elena.” She smiled at Michelle. “And it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Ashley.” She smiled at Franklin, but her eyes had a hint of warning in them. He chuckled to himself, wondering to which fiancé she referred.
“And how are the hives doing after the harvest?”
“They’re doing well…getting ready to hunker down for the winter.”
“Do you think I could head out there sometime this week?” She held up the camera hanging from her neck in question. “The Savage Valley website is getting a makeover.”
“And you’re taking the photos?” he asked. She nodded. “Congratulations.”
“My first Savage Valley commission,” she answered, beaming.
“You’re a photographer?” Michelle asked. “I didn’t realize that.”
“I am indeed. If you ever need a portrait, let me know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. My sister is looking for a new photographer for her next album cover.”
“Oh, goody! I’ve never done album work before.” Elena Ward stayed at their table, chatting until Rita brought their muffins, but after she was gone, Franklin turned to Michelle.
“All right, I know what you can do to pay off your debt.”
“Oh?” She had a big bite of muffin in her mouth. Her cheeks were puffed out, and the word could barely get past the breakfast pastry.
“Come with me to the Savage Valley Hives. We’ll have a picnic.”
She swallowed her bite and opened her mouth to say something.
“With chicken salad sandwiches,” he said, cutting her off. “Because they’re my favorite.”
She opened her mouth.
“And…” He cut her off again. “Apples with peanut butter because they’re my favorite, too.”
She watched him for a long moment, waiting, and then opened her mouth.
“And cheese,” he said.
“Are you—”
“And orange juice.”
“Franklin—”
“And pickles.”
She glared at him. He grinned back.
“Have you—”
“And macaroni and cheese! And boiled eggs! And angel food cake! And tapas! And—”
Rolling her eyes, Michelle leaned toward him and pressed her lips against his. Yep. He was done speaking for the moment.
He watched her as she kissed him. Her eyes were closed, her long dark lashes appearing stark against the skin of her cheek. Her lips didn’t move much over his, but they pressed against him with an eager insistence. A moment before breaking the kiss, she squeezed her eyes tight.
“I don’t have any plans today,” she said, “and I would love nothing more than to picnic with you.”
He opened his mouth to spout off some smug, “I knew you couldn’t resist me” comment, but she was too quick. She crammed a chunk of honey almond muffin between his lips.
“And chicken salad sounds wonderful.”
* * * *
“The trick is to stay still. Stay calm. The bees can sense your fear.”
She felt tiny feet and a furry body crawling across her shoulder. There was one on the back of her hand and one on her cheek. They weren’t too close to the hives, but close enough that a few curious bees would buzz around and land on them occasionally.
They’d ordered chicken salad from Savage Hunger, bought some apples and peanut butter from Savage Convenience, and then headed out toward his and his brothers’ house. Even though she’d seen it at the barbecue, the glass-and-wood naturalistic confection of a house still impressed her.
“It’s amazing, something like this existing out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“People in the middle of nowhere can like a beautiful house as much as people not in the middle of nowhere,” Franklin said, laughing as held open the front door to the house for her. “But if you really want to know about it, you should ask Thomas. He’ll talk your ears off.”
She felt her skin flush at the mention of Thomas. Even though she’d talked about it with him, she wasn’t about to bring up having a relationship with more than one of the brothers, not then at least.
They packed up their lunch in a small ice chest and then set out along a path that led from the house, over Savage Creek, and then deeper into the forest.
The hives were in a large clearing, and Michelle could count about two dozen wooden boxes, each with what looked like a little rooftop.
“This area is what we call the central hub,” Franklin said. “If you head east down that little dirt road there”—he pointed it out, and Michelle nodded—“you’ll run into Brown Trout Lake and the preservation center. They have a few hives there. And then about ten miles to the northwest is the Shoshone reservation. They have some hives, as well. We can’t keep them too close to each other, or else the colonies will compete against each other for nectar and pollen.”
“If I couldn’t see the bees flying so endlessly in and out of the hives, I’d say it was a little village for dolls. It looks like it.”
He chuckled. “Those are called Warré hives. They’re a relatively new development in beekeeping, but instead of adding levels and hives to the top of each one, we can put new hives on the bottom. It helps keep in heat and promotes the health of the bees.”
“Real interesting stuff.” She fought back a yawn.
“Oh, am I boring you?” he asked. Before letting her answer, though, he swept her up in his arms.
She squirmed and squealed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Put me down.”
“Shh. Don’t disturb the bees.”
Stilling her body, she continued to glare up at him. “Put me down. Now.” The words came out as a violent whisper.
He looked down at her with those black eyes, and she couldn’t read his expression. “Sorry,” he said. “No can do.”
“I will get you back for this.”
His lips tilted in a small smile as he took her away from the hives into the forest. He didn’t walk along any of the paths that he’d pointed out to her or on the one they’d come in on. His face was inscrutable, but his arms were solid and implacable around her body. She felt so small and breakable in them, and it made her uncomfortable.
She wanted to like the way it made her feel. She wished it would make her feel all delicate and feminine. She figured most women would, but sh
e hated being taken care of.
That was her responsibility. Besides, she was the one who always took care of everyone else, and he was putting her on edge by carrying her. “Can you please put me down?” she whispered when they had gone a little ways.
“Nope. Part of your debt repayment.”
“I don’t recall anything about you carrying me to god-knows-where when discussing my repayment options this morning.”
“It was in the bylaws.”
“Please, Franklin,” she said, making her voice intentionally breathy, hoping to disconcert him a little. “Please put me down. You shouldn’t have to carry me and the ice chest.”
He looked down at her, his black eyes burning with something powerful. “That tactic won’t work.”
A ripple moved through her body. Something in his voice, the way power cracked through his words, had her insides all a-tingle.
Squeezing her for a moment, he said in a low voice, “Now, I do have to say, you’re no feather—”
She smacked his chest.
“—but you feel like it in my arms.”
She frowned up at him, trying to hold on to her irritation. He was being much too charming, and his constant smile made her crazy. With need. With frustration. With so many warring emotions.
“And Michelle?”
She squirmed in his arms, uncomfortable and wishing he would put her back on the damn ground. “What?” she snapped.
“Try and relax.”
“Oh.” The breath seeped out of her lungs in a slow release, and in resignation, she let her muscles relax, let her body rest comfortably in his arms, and let the rise and fall of his chest against her body soothe some of her anxieties.
About half an hour later, he set her gently on the ground. “We’re here,” he said in a quiet voice.
Once she had regained her footing, she took a look around. He’d brought her to a small wooden bridge with a railing worn smooth by age and thousands of hands passing over it. On one side was a steep upward jut of stone.
“The base of the Mukua Mountain Range where it meets the Savage Valley Forest. And that’s an old set of tracks leading into the now-abandoned mines.”
