Lionel nodded.
“I really appreciate this. Are you sure I can’t pay you extra?”
“I’m sure.” He glanced at a shelving unit that held various pieces of wood waiting to become Rachel Miller originals. He pointed to a gnarled piece of cedar about two feet long. “If you’d be willing to let me have that, I’d consider us even.”
She happened to love that particular piece and had looked forward to carving it. But she was desperate for Lionel’s tracking skills and she was also thrilled at this first indication that he’d taken her suggestion about working on his own carvings. “It’s yours.”
“Really? I was sort of kidding. That’s a beautiful hunk of wood. You don’t have to give it to me. I’m sure you could make something amazing out of it.”
Sliding off her work stool, she walked over to the shelf and picked up the cedar. “I’ll bet you could, too. I only have one condition. Let me see it when you’re finished.” Using both hands, she held it out.
Instead of taking it, he stepped back. “Never mind. That was a dumb impulse on my part. I’m not ready for wood that beautiful.”
“Lionel, you are ready, or you wouldn’t have asked for it. Don’t wimp out on me.”
He eyed the wood. “I’ll probably screw it up.”
“That’s not the best attitude for beginning a new project. Try again.”
“You’re really putting me on the spot, Miss M.”
“I mean to.” She continued to gaze at him. “Daring to be an artist takes guts. You’ve only been here during the glory days, but I went through a lot of self-doubt before I arrived where I am now. I still have self-doubt.”
“You? That’s ridiculous.”
“Probably, but it’s true. So man up, Lionel. Take this piece of wood, put your heart and soul into carving it, and then show me the results. Because that’s what artists do. They put their heart and soul out there for everyone to see.”
Lionel swallowed. “Okay.” Moving toward her, he took the piece of wood. “Don’t expect miracles, okay?”
“I always expect miracles.” She smiled at him. “And so should you. See you tonight.”
• • •
When Rachel didn’t come in to check on Jake all afternoon, he wondered what was up. She’d made a pest of herself in the morning and then had left him completely alone in the afternoon. But he hadn’t been able to trust her absence enough to try a double shift. It had turned out to be a very long day.
Toward the end of it he desperately needed to relieve himself. He wondered how she planned to handle that. If she tried the fishing line again, he’d be ready for it, but she probably realized that. So how could she expect to let him out and get him back in the house?
Around six he heard her come in the cabin, but she didn’t open the bedroom door. He paced by his quilt while he waited to see what would happen next. She had to let him out. And then what?
He was also hungry, but not as famished as he had been in the morning. If she tried to bribe him with food again, he wouldn’t be as susceptible. The ding of a microwave made him curious. Was she nuking her dinner, his dinner, or both?
The overriding concern, though, was the pressure on his bladder. She had to know he was in dire straits. Once she opened that back door, their time together would be over. Surely she knew that, too.
He scented her approach to the bedroom, both because he was attuned to her aroma and because his nose told him she carried a bowl of raw hamburger. Sadly, he was more eager to see her than to eat the hamburger. That indicated how enmeshed he’d become.
Halting his pacing, he faced the door. Considering the microwave ding he’d heard earlier, she must have used it to defrost some ground round from the freezer. Damn, he was turning into a regular Sherlock Holmes.
He appreciated the thought of the raw hamburger, but he looked forward to shifting back to human form. These days he preferred his meals cooked and well seasoned. He longed for a few side dishes and a bottle of good red wine.
She wouldn’t know that, of course. She viewed him as a wild animal that caught its prey on the run. Werewolves hadn’t done that for centuries. Despite his surname, Jake had never hunted anything, and the concept made him shudder.
As a carnivore, he required daily helpings of meat. As a thinking carnivore, he understood that somebody had to provide the fine cuts of sirloin that he enjoyed. But he preferred not to dwell on what he considered an unsavory process.
“I’ve brought your dinner.” She left the bedroom door open as she crossed the room and put the bowl in front of him.
He had to pee, but he wasn’t about to turn down the possibility of food. She didn’t seem to be using the hamburger as a trick to get him back inside this time, and he was grateful for that. He began gulping down the ground meat.
Halfway through, he paused. She could have buried a knockout pill in the hamburger and he’d never know. He glanced up. Did you hide a pill in this meat?
“It’s okay, wolf. You can eat it. No tricks.” She crouched down so they were eye to eye. “I’m going to let you go.”
His heart thumped faster. Freedom!
“You understood that, didn’t you? I have a feeling if scientists ever examined your brain, they’d discover you’re a super-intelligent wolf.”
If any scientist examined his brain and reported the findings, they’d risk ruining their reputation. Everyone knew werewolves were mythical creatures. He pitied the poor scientist who dared to claim that they weren’t.
“I’m letting you out because there’s no way I can keep you any longer. We both know you have to go outside and take care of some necessary business. I figured out a way to fool you this morning, but that won’t work again, will it?”
He lowered his head and kept eating, but he trembled with excitement at the prospect of escaping at last. From the corner of his eye he evaluated the light coming through her bedroom window. Too much light, but he couldn’t be particular. If she opened that back door, then he would take off.
“I’m still worried about you. I doubt you’d let me examine your wounds, and besides, I’d have a tough time seeing anything with all that fur in the way. They don’t seem to be bleeding anymore, though, and maybe you’ll be okay. I hope so.”
He was touched by the genuine concern in her voice. As much as he wanted—no, needed—to leave, he would miss her. He’d been an intimate part of her life for nearly twenty-four hours, and she’d proven to be every bit as wonderful as he’d imagined.
Too bad. He’d have to be content with his memories. He took some satisfaction in knowing that she was likely to remember this interlude for a long time. It wasn’t every day that a woman brought a wolf into her bedroom. And she didn’t know the half of it.
He supposed that eventually she’d find a man to love, and she’d tell him about the brave wolf that had defended her from a mother grizzly. Jake didn’t like thinking about her with someone else, but there could be no other outcome. He would end up with someone else, too, maybe even Giselle Landry.
“So I want you to be really careful after you leave here,” she said. “I wish you’d stay until it’s a little darker, but I know you won’t. It’s just that you’re black, and if someone sees you . . . I worry that they’ll . . . well, maybe they’ll be awestruck the way I was when I saw you years ago and they’ll leave you alone.”
It wasn’t me you saw. It was my father.
“It was you, so don’t try to convince me it wasn’t.”
His head came up and he looked into her eyes. Had she just replied to his telepathic thought?
“I will say, though, that I haven’t been carving your nose quite right. I thought it was a little longer and sharper than that.”