Page 19 of Unwilling Wolf

Burke nodded and pulled his hat lower to keep the dust being kicked up from the cows out of his eyes. “Pretty lady, named Marrianna. Met her young, married young, thought we had our whole lives ahead of us.”

“Did she know you were a werewolf?” Garret asked.

“She cleaned up the aftermath after I was bitten, and she saw my first Change. She dealt with my temper for a little while before she couldn’t do it anymore.” Burke glanced over at him, and his eyes were so bright gold. His wolf must’ve been ramped up thinking on old memories. “I wished I would’ve learned to control it better before she was done. She sure hated me by the end.”

“Do you have regrets?” Garret asked.

“About getting married? Nah. Those were the best years of my life. I had a partner. It was me and her against the world. Now it’s just me and you ugly sons-a-bitches against the world and I don’t get to squeeze no titties. Haw!” Burke said, kicking his horse into a run to go after some cattle that were cutting toward the trees.

Garret watched him ride off, deep in thought. He’d thought about Eliza too damn much over the last two days. He wasn’t sleeping well, his animal was ramped up and hell if he knew why. He had this urge to leave and ride back and check on her, then catch up when he could. Didn’t make any damn sense.

It wasn’t some love match, or a mate his animal had chosen. She was mouthy and fragile and didn’t even know how to ride a horse properly. What use was she to him out in this life?

But…

Her lips sure had been soft against his when he’d kissed her, and truth be told, the possessive part of him loved hearing that she’d never kissed another man before him.

That would mean she hadn’t laid with another man either, and that part…that part…that part made him think about her differently.

The animal in him thought she would be fun to teach.

Problem was, he was a werewolf and she was a soft little human, and he couldn’t be himself with soft little humans.

He would always have to be careful, and by nature, he wasn’t a careful man.

The vision of her perky cleavage in that bright-red wedding dress had him adjusting his cock and shaking his head. He wouldn’t ever admit it out loud to her, but he liked that she was a spitfire who could handle his moodiness. He even liked that she had a mouth on her. Made him think she would be a little stick of dynamite in his bed.

And therein lied the dangerous game.

It wasn’t safe for little soft humans to get the attention of an animal like him.

Chapter Five

Lenny woke her early the next day, no doubt trying to train Eliza’s internal clock to recognize dawn as its new waking hour. Good luck with that. She valued sleep in the mornings and on this one, more than any other, her body ached for more. Every muscle hurt and her hands throbbed from numerous cuts and blisters.

Lenny made a mystery salve that soothed them a little, but the pain returned with the slightest motion. Until the simplest task had become excruciating, she’d never truly appreciated how much one used their hands.

Stiffly, she stoked the fire and laid a healthy portion of bacon into an iron skillet. When the fragrant strips of meat were steaming on a pair of dented metal plates, she cooked shredded potatoes and beans in the grease and admired the two small mountains of food she’d made. Maybe she could fend for herself after all.

The more she moved, the better her aching muscles felt. The minute she stopped for a rest, however, they constricted and begged to remain perfectly still. Like a snake on a cold day, growing slower with the bite of the chill.

Her motivation was Garret. She didn’t know whether she wanted to impress him or prove him wrong, but either motivation would cause improvement, and for her, improvement was victory.

Remembering the ingredients to the new breakfast she’d made that morning proved confusing. She ripped three pieces of paper from her beloved journal and, in great detail, wrote instructions for the meals. In hopes that Garret would never find them, she hid them in the bottom of a kitchen drawer.

While she’d been writing, Lenny had studied her with an amused expression. Eliza would learn to help with the ranch to the best of her ability, but she would do so on her own terms. She wasn’t about to change the fundamentals of what made her Eliza for anyone, man or woman.

With a feverish appetite, she devoured the hot meal. After cleaning up and wrestling her thick hair into a bun, she set out to do chores. When the animals had been fed, Lenny pointed to the saddles and brought the horses in from the corral. It took three painful heaves to sling the saddle over Buck’s burly back, but at least she remembered about tightening the cinch this time.

Another imaginary trail through the wilderness, following Lenny on her painted pony, and she was beginning to welcome the established daily routine. This ride led in a wide loop around the northernmost parcel of Shaw land and ended in front of the house.

With the horses tied contentedly to a post out front, she lifted her skirts and hefted a rifle more comfortably than yesterday. Riddled with potholes, the hike to the crude gun range proved dangerous to her heeled, leather-encased ankles, but Lenny seemed patient enough and waited as she picked her way through the rugged terrain.

Today, Lenny insisted that she must work on firing the rifle from a greater distance.

After she was comfortable with the weapon and a pretty decent shot, the dark-haired beauty instructed her with a longer, heavier rifle, which required better aim and a steadier arm to hit the targets. It would take time, but given enough practice, she might be a decent markswoman. What would she ever need the skill for, though?

Lenny took her rabbit hunting. Lenny wore comfortable looking pants and a loose-fitting, dark cotton shirt, and her soft moccasins quieted her footsteps while they stalked their quarry. Drat the blasted things, Eliza’s full skirts were not in any way stealthy or quiet. They rustled and swished like the rapids of some angry river.

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