Page 4 of Lone Wolf in Lights
“I’m putting together a craft group at the bar,” Willow began. “It’s specifically for women who’ve survived trauma. A place where they can come together, create something beautiful with their hands, and find support in each other’s stories.”
Walt’s eyes softened, the lines on his face deepening in understanding.
Beginning to feel more confident, she continued, “We’ll be making ornaments, garlands, wreaths—things we can sell at the Christmas market. All the proceeds will go to Haley’s Place, the local women’s shelter.” She took a big deep breath and then added, “And we’re looking for donations.”
“How wonderful,” Walt said warmly, reaching behind him to an empty box. He turned away and began pulling items from the shelves of a mix of art and Christmas supplies. “Consider these a donation to your cause.” He offered her the box.
“Thank you so much,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her. “This... This means more than you know.”
“Anything to help get your group up and running,” Walt replied, his smile creasing the corners of his eyes. He reached into the pocket of his apron, producing a well-worn notebook, then opened up a black leathered book on the counter and began writing with names and numbers. Tearing off a sheet, he handed it to her. “Here are the contacts for the other hardware store owners not too far from us. They’re good folks—they’ll want to support you.”
Willow accepted the list, her gaze scanning over the handwritten details. She felt a thread of connection tugging at her, binding her to this community, which was slowly feeling more and more like home. “This is wonderful. Thank you, Walt,” she whispered again, her throat tight. “Truly, it means the world to me—and to the women who will come to craft night.”
Walt waved off her thanks with a modest chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s Timber Falls’s way. We look out for each other here.”
Late in the afternoon after a long day at the ranch, and seated in a booth at The Naked Moose, Eli’s gaze lingered on Willow as she gracefully moved through the busy bar. Despite the challenges the bar faced in its early days with the locals not pleased by the lack of small town in the bar, the place now buzzed with lively conversation and laughter during the dinner rush.
On the other side of the table, Gunner tapped his fingers along the surface, in sync with an unheard rhythm, most likely a new song he was working on. Gunner hadn’t mentioned it, but Eli knew he was determined to make new music that would wow his record label. Meanwhile, Jaxon finished off his last chicken wing, leisurely observing the crowd with a nonchalant air that Eli couldn’t help but admire.
Willow, with her curly strawberry blonde hair flowing down her back and her warm green eyes fixed on her customers, was like a vibrant spark in the cozy atmosphere.
She focused on everyone else. He couldn’t take his goddamn eyes off her. He hadn’t been able to from the moment they’d met.
The cowboys in the bar all tipped their hats in her direction. What was once a hesitant community now warmly embraced the trio of best friends who had turned The Naked Moose into a local gem.
From his spot, Eli couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. As the cold grip of winter took hold of Timber Falls, he attempted to suppress the feelings he felt for her. But even with his efforts, that flame still burned fiercely.
He gripped his beer bottle tightly, trying to ground himself against the memories threatening to consume him—memories of a kiss that burned too hot and bright, threatening to break through the walls he had carefully constructed around his own damaged heart.
Shifting uncomfortably, he caused the worn leather of the booth to creak under his weight. It wasn’t just the whiskey that kept him coming back night after night; it was something inexplicable that drew him to her—a pull he desperately fought against. He reminded himself that a man haunted by demons had no right to dream of a woman so sweet, especially not someone like Willow whose own past was built on strength forged through pain. But the memory of their lips meeting months ago still burned in his mind, a sensation he tried to push away but couldn’t.
As a retired bull rider, he was more familiar with defeat and dirt than a soft, sweet woman. Yet, she stood there, her laughter ringing out above the noise of the bar, and all he could feel was...need. To bring her close, to see that smile aimed at him, to feel her warming the coldest parts of his heart. It all swirled inside of him, awakening emotions that he had long suppressed under layers of guilt and remorse.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, tearing his eyes away from her. He needed to get a grip, to maintain the distance she’d asked for after that kiss. But even as he commanded his thoughts to obey, they rebelled, tracing the curve of Willow’s smile, the light in her eyes when she looked at him, the softness of her skin against his...
Stop,he growled silently in his mind.
Gunner slapped a hand on the table, drawing Eli’s gaze. Gunner’s tousled blond hair caught the dim light of the bar, his blue eyes narrowed. “You’re scowling at the table. What’s eating you?”
Eli hesitated, his throat tightening around words he had buried deep. But these were his friends, the closest thing to family he had left, and if there was anyone he could trust with the chaos of his mind, it was Gunner and Jaxon.
Before he could muster a response, Jaxon chuckled. “He’s got that lovesick puppy look. Willow’s got you good, huh?”
“It’s not about Willow,” Eli lied breezily, not ready to go there yet, focusing on the other problem. He ran a hand through his hair. “Tomorrow is the anniversary.”
Gunner’s voice dropped. “Miranda’s?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. The murder of his baby sister.
Jaxon’s eyes softened. “You need us to go with you?”
To the cemeterywas left off. Eli shook his head. “Nah, I’m all right. Just on my mind.”
Right then, the air shifted, and Willow closed in on the table, her presence full of light as she carried another round of beers. Her smile, warm and unguarded, seemed to reach down in his chest. She slid the frosty bottle toward Eli, and as he reached out to take it, their fingers brushed—a fleeting touch that sparked between them.
A blush spread across her cheeks. Eli felt the sensation echo down his spine, the simple contact igniting sizzling longing within him.
“Looks like you could use another,” she said.
