When she came to the candy display, she loaded up. Now that Jake was discarding her work, watching him skinny-dip would bring more pain than pleasure, so that nightly pleasure would go the way of the dodo bird. In order to compensate, she’d need a lot more chocolate.
Chapter 2
Delivering the wolf carving to Ted had been tougher than Jake had expected, almost like giving up a family member. In a way, he had been. But as much as the carving resembled his father, he didn’t think of Benjamin Hunter when he looked at it. He thought about Rachel.
The mantel looked a little empty now, but he’d get used to that. Her note from three summers ago still lay there, and he walked over and picked it up, intending to throw it away. Unfolding it, he read it one last time.
Maybe he wouldn’t throw it away just yet. He glanced at his bookcase on the far side of his living room. The books were a hodgepodge of paperback mysteries, sci-fi, and his collection of Alaskan trail guides. None were expensive except for the glossy full-color hardback titled
Crossing to the bookcase, he pulled out the book and opened it to the section devoted to Rachel Miller, wood-carver. He tucked the note there, closed the book, and returned it to the shelf. Someday he’d get rid of the book, too, but it had a really nice picture of Rachel next to illustrations of her work. You didn’t just chuck a book like that. Anyway, he didn’t look at it much.
At least the carving was out of here, and in three days he’d be on a plane bound for San Francisco to meet with Giselle Landry, a prominent Were who supported his cause but continued to serve on the Worldwide Organization of Werewolves board. He hoped to talk her into resigning and joining WARM. Plus she was an attractive female Were, and he needed to spend more time with his own kind instead of pining for a human he couldn’t have.
Whether his meeting with Giselle worked out well or not, it would be a welcome relief to come home from that trip and not be greeted by the carving on the mantel. Or so he tried to convince himself. At the moment he missed seeing it there.
Ted had acted reluctant to take the piece. After it was too late, Jake figured out that Ted probably would tell Rachel. She’d likely be insulted that her first customer had given away her valuable work, but he couldn’t put her hurt feelings ahead of banishing his obsession with her. Ditching her carving was a necessary first step.
Knowing Ted, he’d turn around and give the piece to Rachel if she asked, and maybe that was what should happen. It was her first wolf, so she ought to have it for sentimental reasons. One thing was for sure—he couldn’t keep it any longer.
If ridding himself of the carving didn’t work, then he’d put his place up for sale. He didn’t want to do that. Polecat suited him, although getting out of here to travel for WARM was a challenge, especially in the winter.
Ironically, Rachel had solved that problem for him. She’d lobbied for better Internet service in the area, and last fall she’d succeeded. Jake’s remote location combined with his new political cause meant he needed to become adept at navigating the Web, and he had. Face-to-face contact was important during this first year of the campaign, but soon he’d be able to manage WARM almost exclusively online.
That meant more time for his business and more time to enjoy his cabin and its proximity to the lake. He liked that idea, assuming he could get over his fixation on Rachel. If he couldn’t . . . well, then, he’d put permanent distance between them by moving to some other small Alaskan town.
In the meantime, he’d continue with his nightly swims, which helped dampen his lust. Walking out on his deck, he began stripping off his clothes. Then he paused when a movement off to the far right of Rachel’s cabin caught his eye. Leaving his shirt unbuttoned, he walked back inside and grabbed his binoculars.
He swore softly when he got a good look at what had caught his attention. A good-sized grizzly meandered along, headed toward Rachel’s place. Uh-oh. A cub trailed behind. Mama and baby bear. Not good. He knew from close observation that Rachel liked to roam back and forth between her cabin and her shop while she worked. A mother bear with a cub could be extremely touchy.
He cursed himself for not having Rachel’s phone number, although with her power saw running, she probably wouldn’t hear the ring. He could drive around to her place, but navigating that winding road would take too long.
He knew the fastest route very well. Running full out, he could make it to Rachel’s cabin in less than ten minutes. In wolf form he could communicate telepathically with the bear and assure her that Rachel was no threat to her cub. It might help avert a potential disaster.
Ripping off his clothes, he stretched out on the wooden floor of his cabin and willed himself into his shift. Contrary to what most humans believed, he didn’t need a full moon to do it. He could shift on demand. Also contrary to human belief, a Were’s bite couldn’t turn a human into a werewolf. A werewolf was born, not made.
But Jake couldn’t imagine humans giving up their cherished ideas about menacing werewolves, even when confronted by shape-shifters who were members of the Fortune 500 and wore Armani to the office. Revealing their presence in society would cause panic at the very least. Personally he thought bloody battles would follow as fear replaced reason on both sides.
His transformation complete, he rose from the floor and shook himself from head to tail. Jake Hunter, wilderness guide, had been replaced by a midnight black wolf with green eyes, a Were that many claimed was the spitting image of his father. But Jake’s nose was squared off, a trait he’d inherited from the Wallace side. He was proud of that nose.
Before opening the slider and walking onto the deck, he checked the surrounding area. Deserted. He nudged the door open with his nose. His parents had urged him to install a werewolf-friendly door with paw-sensitive commands on a keypad, but he’d resisted.
Unlike the mansion his folks had owned in Idaho, this was a simple cabin by the lake, one he might sell someday. So instead of an elaborate electronic keypad, he’d put in a top-of-the-line sliding door that moved effortlessly with a simple nose bump.
Locking it wasn’t necessary. Polecat had a zero crime rate, and no wild animal would push its way into a cabin that smelled like a dangerous predator. Besides, his door solution wouldn’t arouse curiosity in any human who might buy the place eventually. He was out in a flash and slid the door closed. One quick bound took him to the path leading around the lake.
He kept to the shadows and stayed alert to any noise or movement that would betray the presence of humans, either on foot or riding trail bikes. With luck he could handle the bear without attracting any attention. If the grizzly had moved off in a different direction, he’d hang around a while to make sure Rachel was safe. Then tomorrow he’d notify Ted that he’d spotted a bear and cub near her place. Ted would let her know to be careful.
As he neared her workshop, he picked up the tang of fresh-cut wood wafting from the open window, along with the almond scent he associated with Rachel. Unfortunately, the musky odor of bear grew stronger by the second, too. Mama and baby had continued on the same trajectory, bringing them closer to Rachel’s cabin with each lumbering step.
Maybe he could head them off before . . . nope. Too late. The cub rounded the corner of the cabin and ambled across the well-worn path that ran along the lake between Rachel’s back door and her workshop. Its mother was about to follow when Rachel came out of her shop carrying a cardboard cylinder in the crook of her arm.
Chances were it contained plans for an installation of her work, but Jake thought it looked way too much like a rifle. He hoped the bear wouldn’t think so, too. Rachel was talking on her cell phone. Ordinarily she was very observant, but for whatever reason, she was too engrossed in the conversation to notice her surroundings.
Jake held his breath. Maybe, just maybe, she’d keep walking, oblivious, and the mother bear would let her pass by. She was halfway between her workshop and her cabin when that hope died.
A warning growl from the mother bear caused Rachel to glance up. The cub shuffled its feet, and Rachel’s gaze slowly swung to the other side of the path. The color drained from her face. Anyone who’d lived in the backwoods of Alaska understood the danger of standing between a mother and her cub.
