“Twenty isn’t all that grown up,” Casey said gruffly, and he moved a tendril of hair away from her eyes. She looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat. Those dark eyes were entrancing, and she should look away, break this moment, but she didn’t want to. She’d been so afraid to let her secret out for fear of being judged for it, that to have this man understand... But he was being too lenient on her.
“What were you doing at twenty?” she asked softly.
“I was a cattleman.”
“See?” she murmured. “Quite grown-up.”
“I sure thought so,” he said with a rueful smile. “I’d imagine you did, too. But I wasn’t. I was outspoken and I thought I knew it all... But no, I wasn’t grown-up, and I would live to be proved wrong on a whole lot.”
“Me, too,” she said, and another finger of cold wind worked its way between them. She shivered, and Casey tugged her just a little bit closer, so close that his lips hovered over hers. He wrapped his arms around her securely, and his eyes locked on hers.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he murmured back.
“I thought I was the bad guy...”
“I forgot,” he said ruefully, and his gaze flickered upward, just for a moment, and then he froze, the moment evaporating around them. He slowly pulled his arms from her waist, and those dark, direct eyes were locked on something behind her.
“What?” she breathed, whipping around, and she saw a wolf several paces ahead of them on a rise, crouched down and teeth bared. The animal was huge—so much bigger than she’d imagined them to be. This was no “dog,” but a feral beast who was looking at them as its next meal. Her heart hammered hard in her throat, and she sent up a wordless, panicked prayer for help.
Casey’s eyes never left the wolf, and he didn’t even seem to hurry as he pulled the gun from the strap that held it on his shoulder and reached into a pocket, coming out with two red-tipped shells. He cracked the shotgun open and dropped the shells into place.
“Don’t move, Ember,” he murmured, his voice low and quiet. “Don’t...move...”
Casey snapped the gun closed, aiming it over Ember’s shoulder—directly at the wolf. Ember was trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stared at the massive, shaggy predator. Its fur hung heavy and patchy, still thin from a long, cold winter. This wolf was hungry, and for a split second, Casey felt the entire forest slow down to a crawl.
The wind shifted a tendril of Ember’s hair as if in slow motion, and Casey felt the barrel of the gun snap together into the loaded position in his palm. His muscles knew the movements, so he didn’t even need to think about them.
He locked eyes with the wolf, watching as its golden gaze narrowed almost imperceptibly. Then the wolf’s shoulder twitched.
“Drop—” Casey ordered, his voice hollow, and Ember obediently crouched down just as Casey pulled the trigger. There was a deafening bang and the wolf dropped where it stood, the huge, shaggy beast slumping to the ground.
Casey let out a pent-up breath, then quickly surveyed the trees around them. He had another shell in that gun, and if there were more wolves—
Ember tried to stagger to her feet, but she pitched to the side on her way up, her hands going to her ears protectively. That was why he’d told her to duck—he could have made the shot past her, but the sound of the gunshot right by her ear would have deafened her. Casey raced out a hand to catch her and managed only to graze the soft material of her jacket before she stumbled away.
He let her go. Casey’s eyes were scanning the woods, the river, the trees—looking for more hungry eyes and shaggy gray coats. Because where there was one wolf, there were always more.
“Ember—” he barked, and as he spun in her direction, he saw her walking unsteadily toward the creek. Then she lost her footing and plunged into the icy water. Casey darted forward and caught her outstretched arm as she sank down with a cry.
He grabbed her under one arm and hauled her back onto dry land, but as she came out, she cried out again and nearly collapsed as her weight hit one foot. She’d hurt herself—that was plain as day, and his heart pounded in his ears even as he spun back around to keep up his surveillance.
“Let’s get back to the truck,” he snapped. He didn’t mean to sound as harsh as his voice came out. He did care about the fear written all over her face, and the gasp of pain as he dragged her forward, forcing her to keep walking, even though her knee buckled underneath her. But they didn’t have time to linger. The wolves spotted weakness and it piqued their instinct to attack. They needed to get back to a vehicle fast.
Ember tried to limp after him, but she wasn’t going to be fast enough. There was a blur of gray across the river, and another one beyond that. He had one shell loaded, and it wasn’t going to be enough to take on a pack of hungry wolves.
“God protect us!” he whispered aloud, then swept an arm underneath Ember’s legs and whipped her up into his strong grasp.
Staggering forward, he hurried through the marshy undergrowth up to firmer ground, but as he ran he could hear the howls of wolves behind them. They only had seconds—if that!—and he knew it. Running away only encouraged these predators.
His breath was like fire in his chest as he dashed as fast as he could run up the rocky incline toward the trucks. He could make out the blaze of their paint through the trees—so close, yet so far, and then as if by instinct alone, he dropped Ember to the ground,
