Page 31 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

His green eyes flashed with irritation. “What the hell didIdo?”

“You attacked a client!” I hadn’t intended to yell, but there it was.

He matched my impatience with a feral-sounding growl. “A client who put hishandon yourass.”

“So?”

Reese jerked his head. “Are you saying youlikedit?”

“Of course not. But men do shit like that all the time. They have since I was thirteen. Ask any woman, and nine out of ten will tell you the same.”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?”

“No.” I rose to my feet and placed my hands on my desk, leaning toward him. “I’m saying, that was not your problem. It was my problem to deal with how I saw fit. I don’t need your help.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw, and he repeated my words back to me. “You don’t need my help.”

I straightened and squared my shoulders. “No.”

“I didn’t seeyouknocking Charlie out.”

“Because I was thinking ofyourbusiness.” This time I put my hands on my hips, which should have signaled a significant escalation in hostilities.

But Reese didn’t back down. “I don’t want a business that caters to assholes.”

“Then kick him out. You don’t assault him and give him leverage to cause trouble for the resort.”

He folded his muscular arms. “So you’re going to be the martyr for that cause?”

I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes locked on him.

Eventually, I let it out and asked, “What’s going on here?”

Reese let his arms drop to his sides, and he rocked back on his heels. “What do you mean?”

I threw my arms wide in exasperation. “You. Me. We barely speak, and now we’re arguing about whether you should punch out your clientele if they disrespect me.”

“Christ.” He glared at the floor. “I just wanted to come in here and give you a fucking sprinkle donut.” Then he stalked out of my office.

I listened to Reese’s footsteps disappearing down the hall.

Well, fine. If he was going somewhere to blow off steam, so could I.

I took a peevish bite of the donut and headed outside. The cool morning air did, in fact, help. But I had plenty of pent-up energy to burn.

I stomped past the equipment barn, the hay wagons, then on past the stables. Behind the building, a log-lined path filled with wood chips led into the woods.

I paused for only a second at the trailhead. The warning poster from town was still fresh in my mind, but Sam had seemed certain any mountain lion would have migrated eastward by now.

So on I hiked. Very quickly the forest canopy blocked out the sun, making the already cool May morning seem even colder. I was glad I’d worn my dark green sweater—it was the warmest one I owned—though I wished I’d brought a down vest to wear over it.

Birds called to me from above as the path led up an incline. At the top, it connected with a wide dirt road. I followed it, glancing once or twice over my shoulder for the potential for cars.

Growing up in the city, it was an instinctive thing to do, but no one else was traveling my way. I assumed the road behind me led to the back side of the resort, then to town. It made me curious as to what lay ahead, and I didn’t walk long before I had my answer.

The road ended at what must have once been an old homestead nestled deep in the trees. I could see the remnants of a stone foundation, and while the house was long gone, the faded red barn had miraculously survived.

Its tall, wide door was slid all the way open, and a swallow flew out, dive-bombing my head. Vines grew over and around the corner of the building, but the roof seemed to be intact and there was what looked like a working generator by its back corner.

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