Page 334 of Steamy Ever After

“Were.”

“Huh?”

“Were endangered. Now, they’re a menace. The fact they were stalking you should be telling enough.”

He climbs the last few feet up the bank and approaches me. His long stride devours the distance between us. Cocking his head, he regards me for a long moment. His goggles glitter with the ambient glow of the snow all around us.

While I can’t see his eyes, his gaze falls on me, taking in the trembling of my hands, the shaking of my shoulders, and my general distress. The corners of his lips twitch. I can’t say if it’s from irritation or something else.

"What are you doing out here dressed like that?" He makes a vague gesture, sweeping from my head to my toes. His voice, deep and rumbly, is strangely seductive. It curls around me, twining around my body, settling in deep, where it does strange things to my insides.

He gives zero reaction he’s aware of the effect he has on me. Which is for the best.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to preserve precious body heat, as his stare lingers longer than socially acceptable. I stiffen my spine and roll my shoulders back.

“You think I'm out here by choice? I crashed my Jeep; ran into a ditch. I’m not out for a midnight stroll.” I roll my eyes. “This is the best I had.”

He places the butt of his rifle on the toe of his boot, and a low, throaty chuckle spreads from his chest, bursting forth into a deep, belly laugh.

“There’s nothing funny about this.”

“How many layers are you wearing?” He’s looking at me again. Scrap that; he’s peeling away the layers with the heat of his gaze. A gaze I can’t see because of his goggles.

“Why are you laughing at me?” I step back from the dead wolves, eager to place distance between me and the bodies. “You should’ve given a warning shot and run the wolves off.”

In death, the animals appear majestic. Peaceful. They don’t look nearly as ferocious as they did a few minutes ago.

"Warning shot? Why would I do that?”

“To scare them away. They would've run. You didn’t have to kill them.”

"What part of vermin do you not understand?" His frosty reply makes it sound like I’m an idiot.

My back bristles beneath the challenge. I don’t like anybody questioning my intelligence.

“They’re an endangered species.” My fingers curl in frustration within my makeshift gloves. The thin cotton of my socks does little to block the wind. Now that I’m standing still, the cold renews its attack, seeping through the thin cotton protecting my skin.

“You’re wrong. Wolves are vermin, breeding like there's no tomorrow. I saved your life and you’re worried about killing a few wolves?” He sounds genuinely incredulous.

One thing is obvious. He’s not happy I’m out here alone. Hell, I’m not happy being out here alone. This is not how I saw my return to Peace Springs going.

I know little about the debate surrounding wolf preservation efforts, except there are two sides to the story. Man nearly brought timber wolves to the edge of extinction, and reintroduction efforts are a topic for debate.

“I don’t see how that gives you license to kill them when you could’ve run them off.” I fist my hands and place them on my hips.

He laughs. “Obviously, you know nothing about wolves.” He grabs a wolf body and drags it to the side of the road. “This pack has been harrying the sheep and cattle all through winter. They’ve even taken out a few of Bert’s llamas.”

Llamas?

This is cattle country. Surely, he means cattle? Or maybe, I’m hearing things.

“It still doesn’t give you the right to kill them.” I stand my ground, not giving an inch as far as my argument goes.

He fixes me with a penetrating stare. It doesn’t look like the cold bothers him at all, whereas my core body temperature is dropping to dangerous levels. I tuck my hands under my armpits.

“For the record, Fish, Wildlife, and Parks gives me the right to kill these wolves. I can kill up to a hundred if I want.”

“A hundred?”

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