Mooning over the man, as pleasurable as it was, wouldn’t get anything done. And like it or not, there was plenty that needed doing. When they’d moved to the city so long ago, they’d brought what they could fit in Grandma’s car and left the rest. Grandma had assured her that they would come back for their things, but they never had. Now she had to sift through decades-old stuff, figure out how to get what she wanted to keep shipped to her apartment in the city, then donate the rest.
Starting in the spare room that had, at one time, been the one her uncle had called his, she dragged boxes to one side. Hopefully nothing had taken residence to scare her when she pulled the flaps to open them. She shuddered at the thought.
Knickknacks and items she didn’t even remember were going into the donate pile. Same with the old kitchen wares. She didn’t have room in her tiny apartment to fit anything other than what she needed. After a couple of hours of steady work, she’d gone through the boxes and stacked them in neat piles. Donate. Toss. Keep. The biggest pile was the one to donate, with the keep pile being the smallest. No big surprise there. Had the things left behind been essential, they would have taken them with them. Maybe Bonnie would know if one of the churches was planning a fundraiser soon.
She thought about going into Grandma’s room next, but that didn’t seem right. Her grandparents had been very private and it had always been off limits. Even though their room was a little larger than her tiny one and faced the lake, Maple still chose to sleep in her childhood bedroom. There was still more than enough for her to do without having to venture in there yet. Grabbing one of the boxes piled high in her own closet, she headed back to the spare room. No sooner had she set the box down, a soft scratching sound had her nearly jumping out of her skin. For half a second, she thought maybe there was something inside the box, but the sound had been too loud and had come from the kitchen area.
It sounded almost like an animal wanting to get in. With her heart pounding, she tried to think of where she’d left the rifle. With Jaxon there, she hadn’t even thought to take it anywhere with her. The scratching came again, followed by a deep, rumbly growl, then the rattle of the doorknob. What the hell?
Did bears growl like that? And worse, could they open doors? She knew they were resourceful when need be. With her knees shaking, she eased down the hallway toward the kitchen, ready to bolt into her bedroom again if the door burst open. Bears didn’t eat people, did they? Maybe it was the fear freezing her brain, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember. Clutching the broom she’d left leaning against the wall in a grip to rival Hercules himself, she made her way to the door. She couldn’t see anything through the windowpane. Maybe it decided breaking into her little cabin wasn’t worth the effort after all.
She spotted her rifle only ten feet away off to the left of the porch, leaning against the wall of the cabin. Maple scanned the empty yard. She never should have left the rifle out there to begin with. Had she had it in the cabin, she wouldn’t have been so damned freaked out by a little scratching and growling. As much as she wanted to get to it, she wasn’t an idiot. Maple crossed the room and peered out the window. Nothing was in the side yard, either.
Taking a deep breath, she went to the door again, glad to have locked it when she’d gone into the bathroom to freshen up earlier. She looked out again, and finding nothing out of place, she opened the door. She pulled her hair to one side as the warm breeze blew it around her face. If she was going to make a run for the rifle, she wanted to see what she was doing.
She took a tentative step, then another, listening for anything out of the ordinary. By the time she reached the spot where the gun was, she started breathing a little easier.
A wicked snarl to her right had her freezing in her tracks as the fingers of her right hand closed around the barrel.
In an instant, a huge tawny brown wolf leaped toward her, his jaws open and pointy canines bared. The growl rumbling from its chest had her backpedaling as fast as she could, but her foot caught on a tree root. She landed hard on her ass. Still gripping the barrel of the rifle, she swung as the beast reached her. The animal’s pained yelp sounded moments after the crack of the rifle smacking against its skull. It took a few steps back, then shook its head. It snarled as Maple fumbled around, trying to get a decent grip on it. She didn’t want to kill the animal, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let it eat her.
The wolf took a step closer, then froze. Its ears perked as it looked off to the side, where Jaxon’s truck was still parked, then bolted into the forest.
Eleven
Jaxon was half a mile from Maple’s cabin when the first round of niggling unease washed over him. Needing to reassure himself that the ones responsible for the vandalism on her car were nowhere near the cabin, he’d had Emmet drop him off where her car had previously been so he could take to the woods around Maple’s home.
His lips curled back in a silent snarl as the first whiff of the other male’s scent drifted
