He felt stupid saying it. And yet it felt true.
“Of course,” she said, “because of that, we skied straight into the bison and the snowmobiles.”
“Yeah,” he said, “but you also skied straight into me. Just in time for me to tackle you out of the way of a snowmobile and bruise your butt.”
“You telling me you’re a wolf shifter after all?” She had her head tilted to one side now, a little smile on her face, a little tease in those wild eyes, and she wasn’t looking nearly as much like a PTA mom. “You’re my white wolf, and you’re here to take care of me?”
Whoa.
“Maybe I am,” he said. “Life is strange and wonderful.” He swallowed another mouthful of liquid fire and let himself feel all of it.
The buzz. The high. The risk.
The thrill.
10
That’s a No, Then
This was why you didn’t drink Tennessee whiskey.
How had she made it through that dinner? By the time she was walking down the corridor again with Dyma, letting her daughter open the door this time, she wasn’t sure what had just happened, and she definitely wasn’t sure she’d responded in the right way to any of it.
Although what was the right way? The way she’d been doing things hadn’t worked so great, that was for sure.
At least she hadn’t risked humiliation before.
She hadn’t risked anything else either, though.
Face it. She had no idea what the right way was.
So, no. She normally didn’t drink too much, and definitely not where anybody could see her. She didn’t flirt, either. Mark had sure been right about that. She didn’t dress like this, or let a man touch her hand and smile into her eyes, a man she’d never even met before. A stranger. She didn’t let herself imagine heading down the corridor and right through a bedroom door with that stranger, hands and mouths all over the place and clothes hitting the floor, because that wouldn’t lead anywhere but the Heartbreak Hotel. And she sure didn’t do all that in front of her daughter.
She’d spent the whole dinner swinging between two completely different emotions. Sensations. Whatever. One of them being the look in Kris’s eyes, the brush of his hand against hers, the feel of his hard-muscled calf against her toe when she crossed her legs.
Who crossed their legs at the dinner table? That wasn’t her, either. Or maybe it was, because if you got those kinds of tingles? You ended up crossing your legs.
She was her daughter’s role model. That was the other emotion, because she was watching Dyma react in exactly that same way to Owen, seeing his eyes light up in appreciation, hearing his easy laugh. Dyma had teased him about being a rancher, then asked him about baby calves, and then, of course, had said, “Although I’m planning on becoming a vegetarian.”
“Oh, yeah?” Owen had answered. With a smile, considering that Dyma was eating a hamburger at the time.
“Just taking my chance while I’ve still got it,” she said. “Also, this is grass-fed, even though that’s totally not enough. How can you see what happens in feedlots and raise cattle? And, OK, even with grass-fed—what about slaughterhouses? And how they’re transported in those horrible trucks, and all the hormones and antibiotics? How can you let them suffer like that?” She looked at her hamburger and made a face. “And I’m such a hypocrite. I can’t believe I’m eating this. Seriously, I can’t. We watched Food, Inc. in my AP Bio class last month, and I got sick. How can I pretend to care about animals and still be part of letting that happen to them?” She set her hamburger down, put a hand on Owen’s huge forearm, and said, “How can we do this? Seriously. How can we?”
“I can’t, I guess,” he said. “Must be why my ranch is Global Animal Partnership certified.”
She grabbed his arm tighter. “Really? You’re kidding. Not that I know what that is.”
He said. “You could look it up. I bet you’re great at research.”
Jennifer wanted to tell him, Stop saying things like that. She’s already halfway infatuated with you. She wasn’t going to say “in love.” This wasn’t “in love.” This was, Oh, my god, he’s hot. I can’t believe this is happening. She knew, because she felt the same way.
She at least had an excuse. She was a little drunk. Dyma, though? Dyma was just being Dyma. Was there anything more dangerous to a mother’s peace of mind than a girl like this, with too much confidence in her brains and not nearly enough knowledge of what the world could do?
Dyma wasn’t checking for her mom’s reaction, no surprise. She was all about Owen. She asked, “Are you just telling me that? Messing with me?” Proving she had some caution, at least.
“No,” Owen said. “I’m not.”
Dyma said, “OK, first, I have absolutely no idea what it means, but I’m assuming it’s some kind of humane thing. Why? I mean, how did you decide to do it? And how can you be a rancher? You’re barely older than me. Oh, wait. You mean you work on a ranch, except you can’t, because you wouldn’t make much money doing that, and these rooms are three hundred bucks a night. Look around. We’re the youngest people here who aren’t somebody’s kids. Well, I’m somebody’s kid, but never mind. So is it that your family has a ranch?”
“No,” he said. “Or yes and no.” Fortunately, he was still looking amused. Although, unfortunately, he was also looking at Dyma like he wanted to pick her up and put her in his lap, and not in a what-a-cute-kid way. More in a this-girl-is-too-adorable-and-I-want-to-kiss-her-bad way. Jennifer was very familiar with that look. Dyma was right, that probably was one reason she’d stayed with Mark. If anything, Mark found Dyma a little annoying. Which, come to think of it, wasn’t all that great. Why had she settled for that?
(She checked Kris. No I-need-to-kiss-this-girl look. He wasn’t annoyed, either. He was just amused. Good.)
Dyma asked, “What does ‘yes and no’ mean? Also, does it work? I mean, is it profitable enough? I thought the whole reason for factory farming was that you can’t afford to do it the other way, especially if you’re not corporate and don’t have economies of scale.”
Owen asked, “What order do you want me to answer those in?”
“Any order,” she said. “Oh—do you have pictures?”
“Of what?”
“Of the ranch. Ranches always sound like they’d be amazing. ‘Ranch’ is a great word. Romantic. Argentina, cowboys on the pampas with the snow-capped Andes in the background, all that. But I doubt they’re actually like that. Have I ever been to a ranch?” She considered that, and Owen let her. “No, I have not. I’ve only seen them in the movies. I believe the houses have generally been made of logs, and there’s been a corral somewhere. Also a bunkhouse. So there you go.”
“Well,” Owen said, “the first answer is that my mom and dad and my brother and his wife work the ranch with me, but I own it, yeah.”
Jennifer’s eyes were narrowing. This sounded like such a line of—well, bull. A bit like, “Well, yeah, my mom and dad live in this house too, but it’s actually mine.”