The area, even cleared of the charred ruins of the barn, still held a lingering scent of smoke. At least the fire had cleansed the spot of the overwhelming odors of blood, sweat, and pain. The rest of the crew described them as testament to the horrors of Magnum’s cruelty. The land had been scoured and a fresh layer of dirt laid before the construction of the hall started. Wood shavings, sweat, and the myriad personal scents of the crew crisscrossed the ground.
He raised his head, taking a few steps away from the construction area to draw cleaner air into his lungs. There. Cranberries and vanilla. The scent tickled the back of his mind. He’d caught traces of it a time or two around the house. It tugged on some old memories he couldn’t quite place.
There was no movement in the thick undergrowth, and, after a couple of minutes’ study, he shrugged, making his way back to the worksite to pack away his equipment. Caleb waited by their truck, his gray eyes, the Burrows eyes, shining with excitement. Sander hurried to finish, not wanting to keep his nephew away from his mate and child any longer than necessary.
Tracking down the owner of the intriguing scent could wait for another day.
Silver Moon (Hot Moon Rising #6) Page 13
