Page 5 of Curvy Girl and the Mountain Man Wolf
I shake my head. "No phone. Radio for emergencies." I nod toward the ham radio set up on a shelf near my desk. "But it won't help with your interview."
Lois's face falls, and I can smell her disappointment mixed with something sharper. Fear, but not of me this time. Fear of something else.
"We'll be stuck here for days?" Lily asks, her eyes wide. The question isn't directed at her mother, but at me, and I find myself answering.
"Yes," I tell her honestly. "The county plows won't get to these roads until they've cleared the main highways."
"Like camping!" Lily says, her fear apparently forgotten in the face of this new adventure. "But inside!"
Lois forces a smile for her daughter. "That's right, sweetie. An indoor camping trip."
But I can smell her anxiety, can see it in the tightness around her eyes. She's trapped in a remote cabin with a strange man, her daughter's safety in the hands of someone she just met. She should be afraid.
"You can have the bedroom," I say abruptly. "I'll sleep out here."
"Oh, we couldn't—" Lois begins.
"You can and you will," I cut her off. "It's warmer in there, and there's a door you can close."
I don't add that the door also locks. I don't need to. I can see the relief in her eyes when she realizes what I'm offering. Not just a warm place to sleep, but a barrier between her child and the unknown threat I represent.
"Thank you," she says simply.
I nod and turn away, busying myself with clearing the dishes. I still can’t believe this is happening. Me… Washing bowls while a woman and child sit by my fire, their scents mingling with the wood smoke and pine that usually dominate my home.
"Do you have any books?" Lily asks suddenly. "Mommy always reads to me before bed."
"Lily," Lois says, a warning in her voice. "I'm sure Kane doesn't—"
"I have books," I interrupt, surprising myself. I move to the shelves built into the wall beside the fireplace. "What do you like?"
Lily eyes the shelves with interest. "Do you have any with animals?"
I scan the shelves, then pull down a worn copy of "The Call of the Wild." It's one of my favorites—the story of a domesticated dog who returns to his wild nature. I've always felt a kinship with Buck, though in my case, the journey was reversed. I was wild first, forced into civilization, then allowed to return to my true nature.
"This has a dog in it," I say, handing it to Lois. "It might be a bit advanced for her, but..."
Lois takes the book, her fingers brushing mine again. This time I'm prepared for the jolt of electricity, though it still takes everything in me not to react visibly.
"Thank you," she says, looking at the cover. "I can simplify it as I read."
She settles back on the couch with Lily tucked against her side, opening the book. I should move away, give them privacy, but something about the scene holds me in place. The firelight playing on Lois's hair, turning it to living flame. The easy affection between mother and daughter. The soft cadence of Lois's voice as she begins to read.
"Buck did not read the newspapers..."
I force myself to turn away, to give them the illusion of privacy in the small cabin. I move to the window, looking out at the swirling snow, listening to Lois's voice as she weaves the tale of Buck's journey. My wolf settles, content for the moment just to have her near, to hear her voice.
This is temporary, I remind myself. They'll be gone as soon as the roads clear. Two, three days at most. I've survived worse. Much worse.
But as I glance back at Lois, her head bent over the book, her lips forming words that have lived in my solitude for years, I'm not so sure. Because for the first time since I came to this mountain, my wolf feels something other than restless anger or wary vigilance.
He feels like he's at home.
And that's the most dangerous feeling of all.
Chapter 3 - Lois
The cabin creaks in the wind, but the sound isn't frightening anymore. Not with the fire crackling in the hearth and Lily's warm weight against my side, her breathing deep and even. She fell asleep halfway through the story, worn out by our ordeal, but I kept reading aloud, my voice filling the small space.
