Page 30 of Wild Claim

“You had three servings.”

“Yeah, well...” He scrubbed a hand down his beard before gesturing vaguely toward the horizon. “I blame you and your mysterious kitchen witchery.”

“Mysterious? It’s literally butter and brown sugar.”

He gave me a sideways look and moved into my space. “You sure about that?”

My pulse quickened beneath his gaze. This man could undress me with so much as a look if he wanted to, and often, he did. “You’re ridiculous,” I said softly and tried to sound like I meant it.

“Maybe.” His broad hand found its way to my waist, tugging me closer. “But you love me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.” My voice faltered as I spoke. A poor attempt at sass ruined by how breathy it came out.

His thumb brushed over my hip through the fabric. Casual, but suddenly I couldn’t feel the cold anymore at all.

“Lucky me,” he muttered, his mouth finding mine in a slow, tender kiss.

For a moment, we stayed like that. His warmth wrapping around mine as our breaths mingled visibly in little clouds against winter’s sharp bite. It was a kind of closeness I’d never known before Rory came into my life. A bond so strong, words were unnecessary.

“Do you ever think about... how this all happened?” I said.

“This?”

“This,” I said again, gesturing to everything around us. The farmhouse bathed in warm light from within, the snowy fields stretching out beyond us like a dreamscape. “How everything turned out for us. Was it really luck?”

“Luck? Nah, that’s giving the universe too much credit.”

“Oh?”

“It was also stubbornness and kindness.” He reached out, fingers brushing a wayward strand of hair from my face. The touch sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the chill. “And you refusing to give up on me. The luck came in when I finally realized how lucky I am.”

My heart did a little flip. It was still getting used to this new Rory—the Rory who could speak his feelings aloud. Without another word, he took my hand and placed it on his shoulder, then slid his arm around my waist. We swayed slowly, as if an invisible orchestra played a waltz just for us. The wooden planks of the porch creaked softly beneath our feet, and the cool air tingled on my cheeks.

His body was warm against mine, and I rested my head on his chest, closing my eyes. “I thought you hated dancing?”

“I still do, but I’m willing to make exceptions.”

Suddenly, Rory twirled me outward. I spun, expecting to be pulled back into his arms, but when I turned—he’d vanished.

A loud gobble pierced the night. I glanced down to find a turkey preening at my feet, tail feathers fanned out in full display. I burst out laughing, my sides hurting from the sudden joy of it. He flapped his wings and bobbed his head, doing a little turkey dance, and I thought I might die from the cuteness. “You absolute lunatic! Shifting in the middle of a dance? Really?”

The turkey cocked its head, fixing me with a beady stare that was pure Rory. He strutted a circle around me, chest puffed out proudly.

“Okay, okay, very impressive,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes. “But if you think this gets you out of finishing that dance, you’ve got another thing coming, mister.”

He gobbled and nuzzled against me. Still laughing, I stroked his feathers and thought back to the day I’d spoken to him as if he were just another rescue pet, only to cry when I realized he’dshielded me from Gladys’ insults. Even as a turkey, Rory had an unmistakable presence—a soul that shone through.

“I give up, you win. You’re the most badass, majestic turkey I’ve ever seen. Happy?”

Rory shifted back, stark naked and not at all timid about it. “Badass and majestic is fair enough. I’ll take it.”

I rolled my eyes, tossing him his discarded flannel and jeans. “Put some clothes on before you freeze those giblets off.”

He caught them one-handed. “What, you’re not enjoying the view?”

“I’d enjoy it more if you weren’t turning blue.”

“Admit it, sweetheart.” He pulled on his clothes. “You loved my dramatic entrance.”

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