Page 16 of The Mountains Edge

“Where are the going?” Daisy asks as the town begins to walk back into the warmth of their own homes again.

“He will take then to a rescue farm until they are well enough to be released back,” I explain as I gather her now shaking body to mine. “Come on, we need to get you warm and dry again. Don't worry, I won't push you again until we talk about what almost happened."

"Or." She rises on tiptoes, bringing her mouth to my ear. "We could go back upstairs and finish what we started."

Thunder cracks overhead. The rain picks up.

"Not like this." I cup her face. "Not with wolves and storms and adrenaline."

"Then how?"

"Let me do this right," I murmur against her lips. "Tomorrow night. Dinner at my place."

She steals one more kiss before stepping back. "Tomorrow then."

I watch her walk away, hips swaying.

What the hell am I getting myself into? But for the first time in years, the ghosts are quiet.

And I love the quiet.

Chapter 10: Marcus

"You're making this worse," I tell Scout, who's rearranging my pillows for the fifth time. Luna's already cleaned her food bowl twice, both dogs more anxious than I am about tonight.

The cabin's spotless. My latest work visible in the shop. Daisy likes watching me carve, and she is my weakness.

Steaks are ready. Wine's breathing. I even changed the damn sheets, just in case.

A truck engine echoes up the drive.

Shit.

She's early.

Scout and Luna bolt for the door as headlights sweep the windows. I take one last look around, candles lit, fire stoked, nothing too obvious, and open the door.

My brain shorts out.

Daisy stands in the porch light wearing a little black dress that should be illegal in at least three states. Her hair's down, falling in waves past bare shoulders. She's traded her work boots for heels that make her legs go on forever.

"You're staring."

"You're early." My voice is rougher than intended. "And you look like you're freezing."

"Couldn't wait, and it's worth the cold to see your face now." She moves past me into the cabin, filling the space with her scent. The dogs circle her legs, tails wagging. "Nice place."

I follow her inside, watching her explore. She moves like she belongs here, trailing fingers over my bookshelves, examining carved pieces, studying photos.

"Your family?" She stops at one showing three generations of Steel men.

"Grandfather, father, me. Before the war."

Before the scars. Before everything changed.

She touches my younger face in the photo. "You're smiling."

"Used to do that sometimes."

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