Wild Man (The Smith Brothers Book 2) Page 3

  He lowered me carefully, there was a rustle, and he pulled the covers over me. Then he straightened, and just stood there. I had my eyes closed but I knew he was looking down at me. I felt it. Something tickled my hair.

  He was touching it.

  I tried desperately to keep my breathing even.

  “Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

  Christ, what? The way he said it wasn’t necessarily good. I didn’t know what it was. There was a tone to his voice I’d never heard before during the many times we’d talked.

  He stood there for several more seconds, then blew out a rough breath, and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. I opened my eyes.

  This was definitely not his room. Not surprising, of course, but I couldn’t help being disappointed.

  I forced myself to stay calm. Tomorrow was a new day, and I just had to make sure I won him over. Show him that I was the same girl he’d been talking to all these months—and I was the same girl, just without a few of the required outdoor skills. But I was going to throw myself into everything we did, learn what I needed to, and I was going to love it.

  Tomorrow we were fishing.

  How hard could it be?

  4

  Beau

  The sun was up by the time I got back to the house. I’d gotten up early to go get Freya’s things from her truck. She’d been out cold—not surprising after her trek last night—so I’d left her a note. She must have still been asleep because there was no sign of her downstairs.

  I dumped her bags on the couch, all of them. There were four, one a bright pink suitcase with wheels. I stared down at her stuff and shook my head. She’d tried to drive out here in a fucking Honda Accord. What had she been thinking? I’d planned to winch what I assumed was a truck free of the ditch, but instead I’d called for it to be towed back to town.

  She should know this stuff, right?

  The woman had grown up on a ranch in the middle of nowhere before her family had packed up and moved to Denver. I didn’t get it. Why would she attempt that drive, and more to the point, how could she not know how goddamn dangerous it was to just set off walking like that last night?

  How could she have not known that there were bears, mountain lions, and even wolves out there on occasion? She was lucky to make it here alive.

  I’d been too stunned at finally seeing her, in the flesh, for that to fully sink in, but after seeing her car I was as confused as hell.

  And then there was the kiss. My gut tightened. I’d nearly thrown all my plans out the window. I’d spent too much of my life already chasing whatever felt good, not thinking, or planning, or weighing the pros and cons. Not caring about how my actions affected others.

  I’d left the mountain, desperate to get away. I’d left my twin brother, Hank, to take care of our grandfather, the property, and I hadn’t looked back—not until it was too late.

  Not until I got the call to say that my grandfather had died.

  I never got to say goodbye.

  I’d left Hank to go through that alone.

  I refused to be that person anymore. I’d been working my ass off to put the man I’d been behind me.

  I wanted stability, a family, to be there for my brother and his own family. I couldn’t find the right person to share all that with if I was blinded by lust, or by feelings and emotions that could skew a balanced, well-considered decision.

  I wanted Freya, no doubt, but I couldn’t give in to the throbbing ache behind my zipper. I had to think with the big head or I risked screwing this up, of making the wrong decision.

  “Morning.”

  I spun around at Freya’s sleep-husky voice, and my mouth fell open.

  Jesus. Christ. At the sight of her, my dick punched into my zipper and my breath rushed from my lungs.

  A small smile curled up the corner of her mouth as she made her way down the stairs. My gaze ate up every inch of her. Freya, here, in my house…finally.

  And I couldn’t touch her.

  Her cheeks were flushed from sleep, her gorgeous red hair tousled like a man’s hands had just been in it, and her lips—I swallowed—were soft and puffy. The woman looked like she’d been recently fucked. If this was how she looked when she woke every morning, I wasn’t going to survive the next couple of weeks.

  I dropped my gaze, trying to avoid her face, and instead got an eyeful of smooth, tan legs. I took the rest of her in, giving up the fight. Shit, she was wearing one of my old T-shirts, and it reached about mid-thigh. My cock started pulsing.

  She grabbed the hem and held it down, which caused the fabric to cling more to her large, round tits. “I hope you don’t mind. I found it in the drawers in my room. I didn’t want to sleep in my clothes.”

  I was nodding like a bobblehead. I could see the outline of her nipples, clear as day. Small and tight, and so damn suckable my mouth actually watered. “No…” I croaked. I cleared my throat. “No, use whatever you want.”

  She reached the bottom of the stars and came straight to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I stood there like a statue, afraid if I held her in return I’d lose control of my currently dwindling willpower and fuck her on the kitchen table.

  “It’s so good to finally be here with you,” she said against my chest.

  I angled my hips back, so she didn’t feel the raging erection I had going on and forced myself to pat her shoulder. “Yeah.” I quickly stepped back, dislodging her. “You hungry?”

  “My bags!” She ran over to check out her stuff, then spun back to me. “You got my things?”

  Her smile was huge, and the most exquisite thing I’d ever seen. “Yeah, early this morning. Didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful.”

  She blushed. “You tried to wake me?”

  “I just opened the door a crack, but you were passed out.”

  Her smile turned shy and I thought I might actually shoot a load in my pants.

  “I’m kind of a heavy sleeper. My roommate says I’d sleep through our apartment building falling down.” She crossed her arms under her chest, lifting those full breasts higher. The woman was killing me. “I’m also a wriggler.”

  I chuckled, but it came out sounding kind of pained. She was a wriggler all right. “Yeah, I noticed.” The woman had been on her stomach, blankets almost all kicked off, legs spread wide…

  I needed to get away from her for a few minutes to get my shit together.

  She covered her face with her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  I shook my head. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. You looked cute.” And fuckable, so goddamn fuckable.

  She snorted. “Nice of you to say so, but I’m pretty sure that’s a big fat lie.”

  “I haven’t lied to you yet, and I’m not planning on it now.” I watched as her smile slipped a little and she looked back down at her bags.

  “I guess I better get these upstairs.” She grabbed a bag and headed up.

  I picked up the rest and followed, wondering what it was I’d just witnessed and if it was something I needed to worry about.

  I walked into the room after her. “There’s some oatmeal downstairs when you’re ready,” I said and put the bags down by the door.

  She blinked over at me. “Oatmeal?”

  “Yeah, I have it every morning.”

  Her eyes moved over my body, and, Christ, did I feel it, like she’d run her hands from my shoulders down to my waist…lower. She bit her lip and, fuck me, squeezed her thighs together. Was she feeling the physical connection between us like I was?

  Was she aching and wet for me just then?

  She let out a shaky little breath. “Those pictures you sent me…the size of you…” Her gaze moved over my shoulders, my biceps. “All the physical work you do…I envisioned you having a full cooked breakfast every morning.”

  My fingers curled and uncurled at my sides. Those abundant curves of hers were making me crazy, and the air, it seemed to crackle around us. It took everything in me no
t to close the gap between us, throw her on the bed, tear my shirt from her body, and fuck her into the mattress.

  “We always lived frugally growing up. My grandfather made us eat it every morning. I thought I hated it, until I didn’t have to have it anymore.” I took a step back for both our sakes and moved out into the hall. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

  She nodded and her hair shimmied from side to side. “We’re fishing today, right?”

  “Yep, see you downstairs,” I choked past the lust hammering every single part of me, and pulled the door closed.

  I headed downstairs, dished her up a bowl of oatmeal then headed outside to the barn to get my fishing gear together. It took a little longer than I’d planned. Hank had borrowed some of it the week before and had put it back in the wrong place.

  I finally found everything, loaded it in my pack with the rest of the gear we needed, and headed back inside. I walked into the kitchen and jerked to a stop.

  Freya stood at the sink washing her bowl, and…Jesus.

  She turned to me and smiled. “All set!”

  I had to bite back a laugh. She was wearing one of those fishing vests with all the pockets, hooks and shit all over it, and a matching khaki brimmed hat. She was also wearing waders that were way too big. She looked dorky and, Christ, cute. “I can see now why you have so many bags.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “You think I have too many bags?”

  I grinned to put her at ease, and also because I couldn’t help it. She looked goddamned adorable. “I’m a guy, what do I know? I travel light.”

  Her smile came back. “I like to be prepared,” she said and trudged toward me. “Right, let’s do this.”

  Two hours later we were standing in the river fishing, or I was. Freya, on the other hand, was trying to unsnag her line for the twentieth time. It had only taken ten seconds, if that, to work out that Freya had never fished a day in her life.

  “You want some help?” I called over to her.

  She spun to face me. “Ow!” She’d snagged her sleeve on one of the hooks hanging off her ridiculous vest. “Goddamn it.”

  “A while since you last fished?” I called out, testing to see if she’d come clean.

  “Um…yeah. I guess I’m a little rusty,” she said, shoving back her hat, which had dropped over her eyes.

  I needed to put her out of her misery, despite how entertaining this was. I could see she wasn’t enjoying herself. Why the hell would she tell me she could fish when she so clearly couldn’t?

  What else has she lied about?

  I shoved the thought from my head. So, she’d told a little white lie to impress me. I got it. I was sure I’d exaggerated things about myself to seem more appealing, or what I thought she’d find more appealing, during our conversations.

  I could teach her to fish; it wasn’t a big deal. Hank had taught Birdie a whole lot of stuff when she moved to his place. We often fished together now. I wanted that. I wanted the woman I was with to enjoy the same kinds of things I did, to fit into my family.

  So what if this was one strike against Freya? It really wasn’t a big deal. This was easily remedied, right?

  I glanced over at her, her beautiful face flushed, teeth clenched in frustration, and all I could think about doing was kissing her again. “You ready to head back?” I called out.

  Her head snapped toward me. “Yes! Um, I mean, sure, if you’re ready?”

  I turned away, so she didn’t see my smile.

  After reeling in my line, I decided I’d better help her out of the water since she’d almost fallen over twice, and we packed up our gear and headed out. There was a pretty spot where we could eat the picnic lunch I’d packed. We’d only been walking for about ten minutes when she started to fall behind. That’s when I noticed she was limping.

  How could I forget? “Your feet are still sore from your boots?”

  She winced. “Yeah, a little.”

  Going by the pain etched on her face it was a hell of a lot more than a little. I stopped, pulled off the pack. “You think you can carry this?” I asked. It wasn’t too heavy, thankfully.

  “Yes,” she said, without even knowing what I planned to do.

  I frowned at that. Did she think she had to agree with everything I said, or I wouldn’t like her? This whole thing was so damn complicated. I shut those thoughts down and slid the bag on her back, then I turned around and crouched low. “Climb on.”

  “What?” she said a little louder.

  “I’m going to carry you before you do more damage to your feet.”

  She took a step back. “You can’t do that. I’m too heavy—”

  “I can. Now, get on, Freya,” I said.

  I heard her blow out a breath. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep.”

  “What if you throw your back out?”

  “I won’t.”

  Finally, after muttering something, she did what I asked. As soon as her arms were around my neck, I started walking again.

  “I can’t believe you’re carrying me,” she said. “God, I’m sorry. You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “Nope, and you don’t need to be sorry,” I said. “You’re also not heavy.”

  “I am,” she said.

  I shook my head. “You’re really not.”

  “I am.”

  “Christ, Freya, I’m not one for empty words. I only say something if I mean it, and I’m telling you, you are not too heavy, okay?”

  She was quiet a beat. “Okay.”

  Jesus, I sounded like a surly bastard, but I was walking through the forest with the star of every dirty thought and fantasy I’d had for the last six months wrapped around me, her tits pressed against my back, and an erection so fucking huge the head of my cock was rubbing against the waistband of my pants. It was a mix of pleasure and pain, and it wasn’t helping my mood one fucking bit.

  I racked my brain for something to say to break the silence. “You have any pets growing up?”

  She relaxed a little more against me. “No. My parents—or more my mother—didn’t want animal hair on her furniture, so no pets for me.”

  My brows lifted. “Nothing? Not even a dog?”

  “Nope,” she said. “I made up for it when I moved into my own apartment.”

  “What did you get?”

  “Bruce. My hamster.”

  A grin spread across my face. “Bruce?”

  Her breath tickled my hair at the nape of my neck when she chuckled. “Yes, Bruce. What about you? I bet you had a dog.”

  My smile slipped a little. “Yeah. A German shepherd.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Shep.” It was amazing how just the mention of my dog made a whole lot of memories, ones I’d rather not think about, come flooding back. Why the hell had I chosen pets of all things?

  “Did your dad get him for you?” she asked.

  “My mother.” I’d told Freya how my mom left us, Hank and me and our dad, when we were just kids, so her pause didn’t surprise me. She knew I didn’t like to talk about that time.

  “What happened to him?” she finally asked.

  I cleared my throat. “I left him with Hank and my grandfather when I left. Shep went everywhere with me, but he wouldn’t leave that day, wanted to stick close to Gramps. I know it sounds stupid, but I think he knew Gramps was sick. He stuck by our grandfather’s side, right up until the end.”

  Freya’s arms tightened around my neck. “Animals are incredibly perceptive.”

  “Yeah.” It was all I could manage, my throat suddenly tight.

  “I know you feel guilt over what happened, over not being there for him, but—”

  “What about Bruce?” I said, not so subtly changing the subject.

  I couldn’t talk about that, not with Freya, not with anyone. I’d told her a little during one of our calls, on the last anniversary of his death. I’d had one too many whiskeys and it had loosened my tongue. I didn’t want to delve any deeper into that
time in my life. I couldn’t.

  “Bruce?” I felt her suck in a sharp breath. “He died, a couple of weeks ago actually. While I was away on a business trip.”

  Her voice sounded shaky, like she was fighting tears.

  I hitched her higher in my back. “Freya?”

  “I know he was just a hamster, but…” She cleared her throat. “So, is it much farther to this mysterious spot?”

  Well, that had been a monumental failure. So much for lightening the mood. Christ. “Not far.”

  We finally reached the spot I’d picked for our picnic, and I was hoping to get things back on track since, so far, today had not gone quite as planned. I’d just pulled out one sandwich and handed it to Freya when the first drop of rain hit my face.

  Without any more warning the sky just opened up.

  That was the end of our picnic, and by the time we reached the house we were both drenched.

  “I’ll quickly get changed and make us lunch since your picnic was ruined,” Freya said and rushed upstairs.

  I went up to have a quick shower and change as well. Christ, could this day get any worse?

  Apparently, the answer was yes, because before I could get back downstairs, the whole place was full of smoke and the alarms were wailing in the kitchen and living room. My future flashed before my eyes as I rushed downstairs, of all my plans, the years of hard work and sacrifice to build this place, going up in flames.

  I rushed into the kitchen.

  Freya stood in front of a tray with two unidentifiable black lumps smoking in the middle of it, waving a dish towel around.

  “What the fuck?” I yelled.

  She jumped and spun around. “I put buns in to warm, and…I don’t know…I must have left them in too long.”

  “You think?”

  She bit her lip and turned away as I took the dish towel from her, grabbed the tray, and carried it outside so it would stop filling my house with smoke.

  Then I stomped back inside.

  Freya was gone.

  I assumed she went to clean up in the bathroom or whatever, but as the minutes ticked by, I started to worry. I headed upstairs and called her name. Nothing. She wasn’t in her room and she wasn’t in the bathroom.