There was no doubt that Chloe beat me in agility. My larger frame had more trouble squeezing under or through branches blocking the way, while she and the canine snaked through with ease. After battling one octopus of a tree, I looked up to find Chloe sitting with Keen on the next horizontal trunk, laughing at me. The light penetrated the forest to pick out copper highlights in Chloe’s brown hair, and her smile could conquer Rome.
My heart flipped over, and I had to pause and record the moment. I had my phone out of my pocket and had snapped the photo before she realized my intentions.
I walked to her and leaned over, turning the phone so she could see. But she stood up instead. Her warm lips caught me unprepared, as did her hand when it snaked behind my neck, pulling me closer. For a second, I gave in, pressing into her space, my heart leaping in my chest. Her hand released my neck and joined the other one sneaking up inside my tee shirt to stroke across my belly, then one dropped to the waistband of my sweats.
Whoa.
I pulled away from her. This felt too damned good. I might not like Dillon, but I refused to do to him what had been done to me.
She followed me and planted another kiss, her fingers roaming around to cup my butt.
Oookay, that’s enough.
I pulled my head out of her reach and grabbed her hands to remove them. Her brows lowered and her lower lip jutted into a pout. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked me.”
“I do. But so does a certain tall dark and, well—angry guy named Dillon.”
She shrugged. “Dillon doesn’t own me. We aren’t a couple, only friends.”
Okay, that so didn’t mesh with what I sensed from him. Could she be that blind?
“Have you asked him about that?”
Chloe looked annoyed. “You aren’t afraid of him, are you?”
That hit kinda hard, even for someone who didn’t have much of an ego. Has she seen the size of his fists? I swallowed. “That isn’t the point. What’s important is how he feels about you.”
“Dillon likes me. We’re here so he can deal with some things. Uncle Peter’s place is like a fresh start. We screw around, but we’re not serious.”
She is that blind.
I kept my tone light. “Maybe you should have a conversation with him. I like you, but I’m not getting in the middle of something.”
Expecting reluctant acknowledgment or perhaps a piss-off comment, it surprised me to get an assessing look, followed by a brilliant smile before she headed off at a brisk pace, Keen in hot pursuit.
Shaking my head, I went after them, working my way around the next tangle of branches. We ran in silence for a while until we came to another blockage that forced me to stop and clear brush. Chloe and Keen had squeezed through with smiles of triumph, and left me to it, so they were ahead of me when they suddenly stopped. Keen’s nose faced into the wind, and I swear Chloe’s pose mimicked the dog perfectly.
I disentangled myself from the amorous poplar and joined them. “What is it?”
Chloe frowned. “Can’t you smell it? Something died near here.”
I sniffed hard and caught the barest trace of a foul scent. Before I could grab my dog, she barked and headed into the bush, tail waving like a flag.
“Oh, God, if she finds it, she’ll roll, and it’s too cold to use the hose on her.”
Chloe pursued, and I followed, beating aside branches she slid past. I had nothing more in mind than the logistics of forcing a seventy-pound struggling dog into my bathtub when we crested a small rise and looked down on death.
This close, the smell hit me right off the hop—heavy, foul, turning my stomach. Below us lay the remains of a deer. Keen sniffed off to one side, and I saw the coyotes. Or what was left of them. They’d been torn apart. But this scene lacked the violence done to the bison. And the deer had obviously been partially eaten, likely both by the predator and scavengers.
Chloe crouched near the two dead canids, her hands tracing the tufts of fur. I kept a watchful eye on the live one that, so far, was more engaged in sniffing than rolling. How she could put her sensitive nose so close to that odor, I had no idea. I stared down at the bodies.
“Coyotes sometimes take deer,” I said. “But what killed the coyotes?”
Chloe stood. “Wolves kill coyotes. They compete for resources.” Her voice was curiously devoid of emotion.
Yeah, I guess I knew that. So this was the reason I’d not heard the coyotes lately. These guys wouldn’t have had a chance against the things I’d seen on the trail.
“How long do you think they’ve been here?”
“A few days.” Chloe rubbed her face. “The scavengers have been busy.”
“So maybe those wolves are here to stay, if they’re setting up a territory.” I thought about the location of Ted’s farm. “They’ve got a fair range. They took two bison about fifteen miles from here.”
Her head shot around to look at me. “Bison?”
“Yeah. One of my clients lost two bison bulls to them. Only they made a real mess, tore them to pieces, and only ate the livers, hearts, and brains.”
“The richest sources of nutrients,” she said matter of factly, and I looked hard at her, surprised she would know that. But her gaze skittered from mine, and her face had taken on a pinched, unhappy expression. “Are you sure it was wolves?”
“No. But they’re around, and they weren’t before.”
Keen had found a smelly bit of—something—and was circling it, nose to the ground, in typical pre-encrusting fashion.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I said, striding over and grabbing her collar. I led her away from the
