by LoRee Peery
“You’re back.” Looking beyond her initial trepidation, she studied the large male wolf.
Intrigued by his awesome gold eyes, she figured his prey froze when caught by his stare. Beth’s lack of fear made no sense. Then she remembered. While in the safe house, she’d read three books on wolves, and Internet material that belonged to a student who was sheltered at the same time. Thus began her enchantment with the species.
She’d seen pictures of wolves in various colors: black, white, gray. Nothing compared to seeing this fellow’s shades of gray, hint of tan, streaks of charcoal and black, and white underbelly.
The wolf cried out to her on such an emotional level, she made a mental note to buy a journal. She wanted to record the way his presence quickened her pulse, along with the alertness of all her senses. He appeared as curious about her as she was about him. He deserved an honorable name, but at his unwavering gaze, Beth fought the temptation to laugh at his comical expression.
She needed something to bring a smile to her face. Her relatives accused her of taking herself too seriously.
Beth managed to choke down the last bite of deli turkey and Swiss under the wolf’s watchful glare, wondering again where in the world he had come from. And why her curiosity overrode her fear.
Fear. The wolf exhibited no fear of her. She wondered what he would be afraid of. She answered her own question. Hunters, or vehicles. Surely, the wolf was too clever and elusive to place itself in danger from humans.
“So what do we do about this guy, this Mr. Game-and-Parks man?” A chuckle burbled. Beth believed the wolf had raised an eyebrow. “Would you look at me? Talking to a wolf as though you know what I’m all about.”
They were alone out here, after all, except for birds and insects and spring coming to life. A robin bursting into song intruded on the moment. The wolf blinked an eye and twitched an ear.
She tossed the double-crusted corner of her sandwich his direction. The scrap landed a couple inches from one front paw. The wolf sniffed the air, still watching her, and gave one tail swish. Then faster than she could blink, scarfed up the bread.
Beth couldn’t hold it back. Laughter gurgled in full eruption. She marveled at the way he moved without making a sound. Had he been watching her work on recent days? He probably knew about her long before she was aware of him. He seemed more at ease with her than she was with him.
What could he want from her? Company, or a simple hand out?
The wolf cupped his ears then flattened them. Before she could register what he may have heard, or decide if she should speak again, there was no time to be afraid or try to approach the wolf.
A trunk of a man stepped into the clearing.
The man growled in greeting.
The wolf jumped straight up as though his four legs were attached to springs and circled in the air before bounding off.
Beth screeched at the combination of sudden movements and the man’s unexpected appearance, confused that a noise she associated with the wild beast had come from the big man.
Then she couldn’t make another peep as she tried to take in the visage that haunted her.
Tree trunks framed his broad shoulders, and a trick of shaded light created an outline as though he was stepping through a doorway.
Everything stalled, except her hammering heart.
How did he get out early? How had he found her?
She froze.
No. Impossible.
She felt the blood leave her face and imagined her color as white as Kansas limestone. She trembled, yet somehow her body remained rigid.
Beth found herself right back where she’d been when she lived with her ex-husband. She couldn’t control her erratic senses, let alone retaliate.
Or escape.
The wide-shouldered guy turned the direction the wolf had retreated, as if ready to follow.
She tried with all her might not to freak when she caught sight of the worn leather jacket. The back of that distressed leather caused a frenzied impulse to run. It was him!
Beth choked. She refused to heed the light-headedness. A scream died in her throat. Trapped and helpless, she finally gasped. Simple survival response overrode conscious thought.
At the sound of her whooshing exhalation, the huge man pivoted to look at her.
And her worst nightmare came to life. She superimposed Barton’s face onto this stranger’s.
Emotions took over. She couldn’t formulate a straight thought. Her mind fought against thinking his name, fought for clarity.
No. Take hold of your imagination.
She went on full alert, concentrated on details. This man’s shape and looks, so like Barton’s, eventually took on a distinction that confirmed the stranger wasn’t who she thought him to be.
Not blond. No scar on his left cheek. Not her ex-husband.
This man’s hair was a rich brown, and his eyes were lighter brown mixed in with some gray and a touch of cinnamon. No matter. She didn’t care for big men who used their size to intimidate and manipulate. At first glance, she wanted nothing to do with the brute.
She inhaled, drew her shoulders up, and wrapped protective arms across the front of her body. Distant memory reminded her blows could hurt.
Beth let out the breath, hoping she put on a brave front. This guy put her on guard, when the wolf hadn’t.
Still fighting to hold herself together, she raised her chin. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” She hoped the slight tremor in her voice didn’t make him think she was weak.
“We met last night, remember?” He swept his arm in a wide arc. “Are you really staying here? The place looks like it needs a match.”
She recognized the voice from the previous night. Some of his words sounded funny. He wasn’t from Nebraska. “I am. And I told you last night, I’m fixing up the cabin.”
“Seems I’ve startled you twice, now. I apologize, ma’am.” The man whipped out a small notebook. “Could you spell your name for me, Ms. Phillips, just so I get it right?”
She shook her head to clear the wild emotions. He remembered her name. She hadn’t asked him for his name last night. And it didn’t look like he was in uniform now, so was he for real?
Real was the size of the guy, now looming closer than any kind of comfort. Big enough for her to dislike him on sight. “I need to know you’re who you claim to be. So how about some identification?”
The lines around his eyes crinkled, as though he was trying not to grin.
She broke their connection to study the road beyond her drive. “Again, I’m asking who you are?”
She finally heard the Minnesota accent in the man’s voice.
It somehow softened his size, because she had the urge to smile. But that didn’t mean she’d let down her defenses.
“P-H-I-double-L. Beth Ann Phillips. Or Beth Todd. Or Beth Littlefield. But it’s Phillips, now.”
2
The names the woman prattled off rolled through Aiden’s head. She must have stories to tell. He’d check out all those names later.
“Let’s start over. I’m Holt. Aiden Holt. Nebraska Game and Parks Commission.” He lifted one side of his open jacket to reveal his nametag and uniform shirt.
“Show me more.”
“How do I know you are who you claim to be? Then again, so many names.” He had no control over the frown that puckered his brows, so pointedly he felt the skin pull as he slid out his driver’s license in order to humor her. “I’ll need to see your I.D., as well.”
He fought the urge to flash a grin instead of the authority behind his identity. He recognized her aggression as some kind of forced courage to compensate for her isolation and lack of physical stature.
What was she doing in this secluded corner of the woods? “That animal I scared off just now is the reason I’m here.”
“Do I look scared of a wolf? Like I need some overgrown lummox to rescue me from a magnificent, curious creature?”
The way she looked wasn’t t
o his liking at all. She brought out his urge to protect, not as a man in uniform, but as a man.
Her face called for a more intent look. Her gray-blue eyes were wide set. She wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup that he could tell. And she didn’t need any. Her lashes were thick, her skin flawless. And her short blonde hair stuck up at all angles, as messy as it had been tossed the night before.
He didn’t want to notice.
Aiden cleared his throat. “I’ll ask the questions. You do have permission to live here?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“It’s my job.”
“OK, you win. I do have permission. Just ask anyone at Faith Bible Church in town. The land belongs to the church. I’m camping here free for cleaning it out and doing some fix-up.”
He lowered his eyes so she couldn’t see that he had a hard time wrapping his head around that information. A woman with all those names indicated a colorful background.
What was she looking for when she made such obvious bad choices?
What could she really be doing in a cabin owned by a church?
“The canine that disappeared when I approached, is it yours?” He looked her in the eye. “A wolf or a feral dog, not belonging to you, well, you wouldn’t want to harbor an animal like that.”
“How could I be giving the animal shelter if this is only the second time I’ve seen it?”
“The department has had claims of wolf tracks and reports of strange howls around the river. There are dangers on both sides. Wolves are wild. Anything wild is unpredictable. Plus, wolves are a protected species. It stands to reason we don’t want neighboring farmers to start shooting at one when livestock goes missing.”
Beth gasped.
He softened his tone. “People are, by nature, afraid of wolves. And it’s part of my job to keep people and wildlife living in respectful harmony.”
“You didn’t grow up in Nebraska, did you, Mr. Holt?” She seemed more relaxed, like this whole thing was tickling her now.
“Not far from Duluth, Minnesota, Ms. Phillips. But I’m here to ask you the questions.” When he felt certain she wouldn’t toss her hammer at him, or again grab the nearest two-by-four, he approached.
“Coming from Minnesota, you should know something about wildlife, then,” she said with a sweep of the woods surrounding the clearing. “I believe the deer and wild turkey are populous enough to keep a wolf from bothering farmers’ livestock.”
“Not everyone from Minnesota is into fishing and hunting. Game and Parks needs to follow up on calls of a large wolf, or dog, heard and seen along the Platte River. Let the professionals who know about wolves decide this one’s future.” He narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t been feeding it, have you?”
“I haven’t had time to think about feeding it. Well, I did toss him a bread crust. Besides, I don’t make the kind of money to feed myself steak, let alone give steak to an animal. As I said, the area is populated by a variety of wildlife suitable for a wolf.”
“J’ever see the wolf on any neighbors’ property?” Aiden was pretty much finished, but her voice fascinated him. “Do you have time for a few more questions, now? Maybe we could go inside.”
Ms. Phillips snorted. And he liked the earthy sound.
“First, remember, I just met the wolf today. Second, no one besides me is going inside the cabin until I have the main room washed down with bleach. There’s nowhere to sit. I usually park it at the picnic table out here.”
Her eyes sparkled. She’d tossed back his use of first-and-second phraseology. He had the urge to scratch his head in wonder. No place to sit, but she had obviously spent the night in a place where he wouldn’t camp. Go figure.
He searched the area around the cabin. It was a severely rustic setting, fit more for a grizzled hunter than a spitfire of a blonde with spiked hair. But it appealed to him. The woman was obviously renovating, judging by the materials tossed in the huge dumpster. Her blue truck was empty except for the shiny toolbox resting behind the cab.
As they neared the weathered table, he met her gaze and motioned for her to take a seat.
Beth Phillips yanked her tool belt to the side and unhooked it all in a coordinated move. She snagged a bottle of water, and then leaned a hip against the table top. She looked like she was ready for flight. “You never did say where you parked.”
“At the turn-off. I wanted to hike through the woods. And before I return, I’ll want to see your I.D.”
“So you like the woods, after all.” That seemed to amuse her somehow. “I’ll show you my license. Have you personally seen any of those tracks you’re looking for?”
“Not yet. I hope to get a better look at that critter, make sure it really is a wolf. If it is, and it appears to be, I’ll notify the proper department. I’m just filling in. Furbearing animals aren’t really my thing. Turtles and snakes are my expertise. But I can attempt to keep the wolf from getting shot at. Or run over by a car.”
****
Run over by a car.
Beth dropped her water bottle. “It wasn’t a dog!”
Aiden Holt jerked his head back and frowned. “What?”
“That caused my accident. Last May, when I first returned to Platteville, I swerved to miss what I thought was a huge dog. But it must have been the wolf.”
Aiden flipped back through his notes. “The timing fits with a call reported in Dodge County. A farmer’s wife said she saw a wolf. No tracks were found then, so the wolf sighting was never filed as accurate. Tell me about your accident.”
“I was approaching that sharp turn going into town. A huge dog streaked out in front of my car.” How had the animal survived all these months?
“Remember anything else? You say it hasn’t been around since?”
It didn’t take much to recall last May’s threat to Beth’s life. The smell of gasoline had permeated the enclosed space when Eric Todd, her first ex-husband, and a far better man than her current ex sitting in jail, had come to her rescue.
Could be, she blocked out what caused the car accident because she was ashamed of her behavior when she saw Eric again. He’d been in the wrong spot, first one on the scene to save her life.
“Hold still,” Eric had ordered while she hung suspended, upside-down.
Eric had no reason to verbalize how he would have rather been anywhere else that day. His distaste was like a third person in her small front seat. But he was a firefighter, so he struggled to get the safety restraint to release. It was jammed, and no amount of pressure would make the buckle comply. Her early model car had inadequate airbags.
She’d attempted to make light of the situation so he wouldn’t know how scared she was. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Eric had ignored her and retrieved his utility knife to saw through the safety belt. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her through the passenger window.
Once out of the car, Beth squirmed and tried to wiggle away from him. But her wobbly legs made her thankful for his support as they scrambled out of the ditch to the shoulder of the road.
Instead of turning into the blanket the EMTs offered, she threw herself at Eric. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “Still my hero.” She’d been in shock then, with running off the road and the threat of fire. Now she had no memory of how Eric reacted.
“You were far away for a moment. What happened?”
Aiden’s question jerked her back to her cabin in the woods. Spring birds rustled in the brush and a gentle breeze danced across her check. She blinked away the intrusive reminder of past behavior.
As she remembered, now in front of Aiden, mortification heated her cheeks. She frowned at the big man’s leather jacket. “Why don’t you wear a uniform?”
Aiden opened one side of the leather jacket. “I’ve got a patch on my uniform shirt. My gun, and my badge. I know I should have tossed away this jacket years ago, but I keep holding onto it. Now, back to this critter.”
“I never saw him again. Until
now.” Beth would never refer to the wolf as a critter. He was a curious, intelligent, intriguing animal. He deserved a dignified name.
Dignified. Like Aiden Holt’s name.
As if she was interested enough to take notice.
****
What in the world had this woman so spooked? She was taken with the animal, so something in her head? Despite his wonder, Aiden found her intriguing. Even though it was a dratted wolf that brought them together. If Beth lived around Lincoln he might consider getting to know her better.
Then again, if Beth lived in the city, he wouldn’t have been called here to Platteville to “man-up,” as his father would say. Wolves were his father’s favorite mammals, and Aiden’s most dreaded. He shook off his thoughts.
“Before I take off looking for tracks, I have yet to see your I.D. And any proof you’re supposed to be here.”
“Sure. My bag’s inside.”
Aiden tracked her confident stride to the cabin. He recalled studying her face as she recounted the accident. She’d stared off into a copse, with shoulders slumped and hands hanging between her knees. Her brow was creased, tears glistened in her eyes, and something ugly had tightened her mouth. Then her countenance brightened when she bounced back to the present.
Beth was only in the house a couple minutes, but it was long enough for Aiden to wonder why in the world a pile of unmatched shoes were stacked next to this run-down cabin in the woods.
She retraced her steps to the picnic bench, digging through a shiny, iridescent blue purse. It struck him how out of place the uptown bag looked in the rough environment. Maybe Ms. Phillips was hiding a fancy lady behind her carpentry clothes after all.
“Finally. My license is always handy, but I had to dig all the way to the bottom for the other proof you think you need.”
Aiden accepted the driver’s license and did a double take. The woman in the picture had flowing white-blond hair cut off by the head shot. He gazed at the Beth in front of him. Yep, a messy natural blonde with a scrubbed face. He had trouble trying to merge that wholesomeness with the heavily made-up image in his hand. The eyes matched and that was about it.
