Page 16 of Curvy Girl and the Mountain Man Wolf
"I've never had venison before," she says, letting me off the hook. "It's really good."
"Thank you."
We finish the meal, and Lois stands to clear the dishes. "Let me do this," she insists when I start to protest. "You cooked. It's only fair."
I relent, moving to add wood to the fire while Lily returns to her book. Is this real life? A child reading by the fire, a woman washing dishes in the kitchen, me tending the hearth. Like a family in some bygone era, before technology and modern life complicated everything.
Except we're not a family. They're strangers, temporary visitors who will be gone in a few days. And I'm not the man of the house, but something else entirely: a creature playing at being human, wearing the skin of civilization like an ill-fitting coat.
The scent of soap and warm water mingles with Lois's natural fragrance as she washes the dishes. My wolf stirs at the combination, finding it pleasing in a primal way I can't entirely suppress. A female, caring for the den. My den.
I force the thought away, focusing instead on the practical aspects of the situation. The weather report from the radio this morning suggested the county plows would reach the outer roads by tomorrow evening or the following morning. Once the road is cleared, I can help them get to their car, maybe jumpstart it or fix whatever caused it to break down. If that's not possible, I can drive them to Cedar Falls in my truck. Either way, they'll be gone soon.
The thought should bring relief. Instead, it creates a hollow sensation in my chest.
"All done," Lois announces, drying her hands on a towel. "What time does it get completely dark up here?"
"This time of year? Around six," I reply. "Why?"
"Just trying to get my bearings. In Denver, with all the city lights, true darkness never really falls."
"It's different here," I say, unnecessarily. "When night comes, it's complete."
"I noticed that last night," she says, moving to stand near the fire. "It's... intense. Beautiful, but a little frightening too."
"Most beautiful things are," I say before I can stop myself.
Her eyes meet mine, something flashing in their depths that makes my wolf surge forward again, pressing against the cage of my control. I look away first, cursing myself for the lapse.
"Mommy, can I take a bath?" Lily asks, closing her book. "I'm all sticky from hiking."
Lois seems grateful for the interruption. "Of course, sweetie. Let me help you."
Being alone with Lois is more dangerous than I anticipated, not because of any threat she poses, but because of how she makes me feel. How she makes my wolf feel. Connected. Seen. Things I haven't allowed myself to experience in nearly a decade.
I move to the window, watching as darkness claims the forest. Snow reflects what little light remains, creating a luminous landscape of blue shadows and silver highlights. In the distance, the real wolf howls again. The sound is lonely, haunting, a call that may or may not be answered.
The bathroom door opens, and Lily emerges in what looks like clean pajamas, her hair damp and curling around her face. "Mr. Kane, your bathtub is really big," she informs me seriously. "Like a swimming pool."
I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "It's not quite that big."
"Bigger than our old one," she insists. "Mommy's going to take a bath too because she says her muscles hurt from climbing the mountain."
Lois appears behind her daughter, looking slightly embarrassed. "Thank you for letting us use so much hot water," she says. "I hope we're not depleting your supply."
"Solar heater with backup propane," I explain. "Use as much as you need."
"Still, we appreciate it." She hesitates, then adds, "I'm going to take a quick bath now, if that's okay. Could you...?"
"I'll keep an eye on Lily," I assure her, understanding the unspoken request.
Lois smiles and disappears into the bathroom. Lily looks up at me expectantly, clearly assuming I'll entertain her in her mother's absence.
"Want to see something?" I ask, surprising myself with the offer.
She nods eagerly, and I lead her to the window. "Watch the sky," I instruct, pointing to where the last colors of sunset are fading. "Keep watching that spot."
We stand in silence for a few minutes, Lily fidgeting slightly but maintaining her focus on the darkening sky. Then, as the last light disappears, the stars begin to emerge. Not gradually as they seem to in cities, but all at once, as if someone has thrown a switch, revealing the full glory of the night sky.
