Penelope uncurled her legs and touched her bare feet to the floor, curling her toes in the plush rug before padding into the kitchen. It was after midnight, and supper was little more than a memory to her stomach.
She slipped on her sneakers, grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter and strolled out the back door. Sitting on the porch swing, she munched her snack.
The moon, not quite full, beamed in the sky, big and bright, bathing everything in a soft, silvery glow.
She stepped off the porch and her skin warmed as if sunshine had disguised itself in moonbeams. As long as the thin strip of dark clouds remained in the distance, there would be enough light to follow the walking trail without use of the flashlight.
Quiet in Atlanta where she’d lived was definitely different than the quiet here. She could actually hear her thoughts, with no interference from the static of urban living.
Even in the utter stillness, she didn’t feel frightened or alone. Cassie and her husband and daughter lived a mile up the mountain. Gavin Walker and his wife, Abby, lived in private quarters adjacent to the resort. And security officers routinely patrolled the property, although she hadn’t caught sight of them.
Her ears tuned to the chorus of crickets and the soft gurgling of the river. Tiny lights blinked among the dark trees in a hypnotic dance. Watching fireflies wasn’t on her mental list of the new experiences she wanted to explore, but it should’ve been because they were simply mesmerizing.
A loud rustling echoed in the woods. The possibility of an unintentional wildlife encounter hadn’t crossed her mind when she left the cabin.
A rustle of commotion erupted ahead. There was an ear-shattering squeal, followed by low animalistic growls.
Wolves!
Cassie had said the Co-op wolves weren’t dangerous. They had handlers and were confined to the sanctuary miles away, which meant the ones in the woods had come from somewhere else.
A flurry of movement divided in two directions, one headed straight for Penelope. She turned to run, tripped over a tree root and hit the ground with a startled cry.
Run! Her mind screamed; however, her body had other ideas. Her feet seemed stuck in quicksand and neither of her legs would move.
“Security?” she cried out, hoping one of the patrols would hear.
The bulk of the commotion moved away from where Nel had fallen, except for a loud thumping that steadily came closer until a large wolf emerged from the shadows.
Her chest locked in the last pant of air. Her shoulders rose and dropped with the effort to breathe, but nothing entered her lungs. Unable to scream, unable to run, she pulled herself into a turtle-shell posture, covering her head and neck with her arms.
Getting eaten by a wolf was definitely not on her list of things to try before she died. And she certainly was about to die, a horrible, painful death.
A caustic tear burned a trail down her cheek. She didn’t dare wipe it away, fearing the animal now hovering over her would chomp into her if she moved.
Warm puffs of breath grazed her hands, which were clasped over the back of her neck. Despite her arms helmeting her head, the animal nudged past Penelope’s defensive pose and found her ear. A cold, damp nose pressed against the shell.
Come on, sweet cheeks. Sit up and show me your pretty face.
“Tristan?” She peeked beneath her arms.
The wolf gently touched his paw to her shoulder. If the animal was going to eat her, he was taking his time sizing her up.
“Tristan,” she called again.
The woods remained silent. In her panic, she must’ve imagined his voice.
The wolf plopped his rump next to her. Head cocked to the side, his gaze mapped every inch of her body.
Back aching, knees throbbing and toes going numb, she needed to move and stretch before she lost all feeling in her limbs. Slowly, she unfurled from the defensive huddle and sat up.
The wolf didn’t move, growl or otherwise display any aggression.
He was nearly double the size she expected for a wolf, and his coat was a beautiful blend of light to dark golds and soft browns. In contrast, his pointed ears were richly dark except for the outer rims tipped in white.
“How unusual.” Without thinking, she reached to feel if his ears were as velvety as they looked.
The wolf didn’t shy away; in fact, he seemed not to notice until she actually touched him.
A spark of static electricity zapped her palm and the charge spread throughout her body. The wolf yelped and backed away.
“I didn’t mean to shock you.” She held up her hands. “I just wanted to rub your ears.”
The wolf gave her a funny look.
“Yeah, weird. Right?” Idiotic, actually. That animal was a wolf, not a Labrador. “All righty.” Penelope stood slowly to avoid startling him. “I’m going back to the cabin.” She hiked her thumb over her shoulder.
The wolf simply stared.
Mindful of her movements, she turned and plodded purposefully along the worn path. A quick look behind her confirmed the wolf followed. She stopped, he stopped. She started, so did he.
She climbed the porch steps; he sat at the edge of the trail.
Safe and locked inside the cabin, she grabbed her phone and took a picture from the kitchen door of the wolf watching her. A howl sounded in the distance. Her wolf cocked his ears, then threw back his head and answered the call. He needed to return to his pack and she needed to get to bed.
She gave a little finger wave, her nails tapping against the glass plane of the kitchen door. The wolf acknowledged with a nod, then bolted into the woods.
“Best decision ever.” Penelope congratulated herself on answering the ad that brought her here.
A gloriously naked man, a friendly wolf...her life was already more exciting than it had ever been. And she’d only been at Walker’s Run for two days.
Whatever else the summer held, she was ready.
The incessant tick of the large clock on Ruby’s living room wall thumped inside Tristan’s achy head. After spending the day volunteering at Youth Outreach, he would’ve rather crashed in his large plush bed for a few hours before going to work tonight. Not that he would’ve gotten much sleep. Whenever his mind quieted, Penelope filled his thoughts.
In spite of their unconventional introduction, he hadn’t expected to see Nel again. Bumping into her so soon after their first meeting had made it difficult for him to forget her. Excitement sparkled in her eyes and the sweetest smile plumped her cheeks, and the most unusual thrill had tickled his chest.
Tristan had felt it again, last night when he’d caught her scent in the woods. He, along with Henry “Cooter” Coots—the pack’s chief sentinel, and a few others were out trying to round up Cybil, a large, ornery potbellied pig who’d escaped from Mary-Jane McAllister’s farm.
Realizing Nel was nearby, he’d broken formation to get ahead of Cybil and cut her off before she encountered Nel. Cooter gave him hell later, but it had been worth it.
The ruckus Cybil created had frightened Nel. So had the sudden appearance of his wolf. Nel had called out for Tristan—the man—and the urgency to shift so that he could soothe her had caught him off-guard.
Wahyan