What the hell was wrong with me?
I didn’t know this woman. But for that second, she was an outsider. An unfiltered, unbiased ear. A blank slate to absorb my anger and rid me of them just like she’d shot the thoughts right from my mind.
“I came here for solitude. To be alone. Away from people. For the last time, I don’t need your help.” The end roared a little, like I was an animal that belonged in the forest.
She put her hands up. “Fine.” Her head shook slightly, wisps of white hair grazing her cheeks. “Then don’t go walking in the woods alone. It’s always hunting season, and I’m hunting.”
“Oh yeah? It’s the middle of winter, what could you be hunting for?” I scoffed, though I was absolutely sure she had a better idea of hunting season and available game than I did.
Her eyes narrowed and she quipped, “Well, I was hunting deer, but I could just as easily be hunting jerks.”
Touché.
“Well, then I’ll get out of your way,” I said through clenched teeth.
Her eyes flashed with bright sparks. “Before you become my prey.”
My body jolted, but not with the kind of threat she implied. No, instead, it decided to picture a different kind of prey—one that was hunted by her smart mouth, ethereal beauty, and soft curves hidden under the layers of padding.
“At least then you’d put me out of my misery,” I rasped, the words coming from somewhere deep and raw inside of me.
Her lips tightened, and she fumed. “Don’t tempt me, Jerk.”
Later I could admire her wit, but right now, my lip curled and set free a low growl before I turned and stalked back toward my cabin.
She stomped off back toward her hunting hut, her string of cold curses hanging like fog in the air. My jaw clenched. I was a jerk.
Maybe it was the arrow. Maybe it was seeing her—arguing with her. But Winna, with all her unorthodox and hazardous wild-woman ways, had evaporated much of the rage I’d come to the woods with.
That was the paradox of Winna Madden.
She made me forget, which was exactly what I’d come here to do. But at the same time, forgetting came with a price I wasn’t sure I was willing to pay—a price of truth and vulnerability.
And the rising tax of desire.
Ryan Finan was a jerk.
It was as clear—and he was as cold—as ice.
I’d rented my cabin to a rude city slicker, and I was not happy about it.
I wasn’t sure—and wasn’t sure I cared—if it was entirely inappropriate for me to keep an eye on the man renting my property, but, for better or for worse, I did.
The thing was, most people came to nature for one of two things: to hunt or to find themselves. But Ryan, he hadn’t come here for either. Not with the turmoil in his eyes and the harshness of his demeanor. He wasn’t looking to find anything; he was trying to lose himself, and that worried me.
Especially when he came prepared with more alcohol than food.
I took Chewie for our morning walks on the path behind both our cabins, making sure there was still smoke coming out of the chimney from his fire and letting my chipper pup remind my tenant that morning had come around. While I hunted, I may or may not have used the scope on my compound bow to make a full sweep of the area—including the window-lined cabin.
Just to make sure he was alive.
Though it didn’t go unnoticed that I hadn’t gotten a better visual of my decidedly too-handsome neighbor than I had the day I’d accidentally offered to jerk his meat.
I hadn’t seen anything because he didn’t do anything except stay inside the cabin.
No food. No nature. No nothing until his angry forest walk.
But fine. If he wanted to be left alone, I could do that. Absolutely.
With a grunt, I finished peeling the skin from the deer I’d shot about an hour after Ryan and I had stormed off in opposite directions, dislike creating a chasm between us.
Disclaimer: My deadly accuracy with the arrow earlier this morning had nothing to do with the frustration making my skin quake for release.
My knife clattered onto the small table at my side as I stared at the hanging carcass, my bloodied hands planted on my butchering pants as I panted heavily.
Such. A. Jerk.
“Yoo-hoo.” Kurt poked his head into the butchering room of Hurd’s where all my dirty work was done. “Everything okay in here?”
“Yeah, why?” I winced, immediately realizing that was a dead giveaway to my frustration.
All my uncles were like second fathers to me, but especially Kurt. After my dad passed, they’d taken it on themselves to finish raising me until Bert finally succumbed to lung cancer and Marshall to a heart attack. That left just Kurt and me. And the wilderness.
“Well, because the deer’s already dead there, Winna, no need to kill it twice.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes, grabbing my two buckets for the good and best cuts of the meat.
“It’s the tenant, isn’t it?”
My gaze snapped up. Grabbing the handle of my knife, I spun it into my grip, earning myself a raised eyebrow.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled, his belly shaking. “Need me to take care of him? We’ve got lots of woods back there. They’ll never find the body.”
My shoulders finally relaxed a little as I laughed. For the men who’d raised me, that was their solution to everything.
“Not necessary,” I said, making a few expert slices to remove the front legs from the body. “And the ground’s too hard.”
With a sigh, Kurt strolled into the room and hoisted himself onto the stool on the other side of the table. “Alright, well then let’s hear it, Winna. There’s only one reason we come into this room.”
My head cocked to the side.
“To spill guts.” He grinned.
“Gross,” I said, even as my bloodied hands began to carve the neck meat and brisket. Taking a deep breath, the measured and familiar strokes of the knife relaxed me. “I was just trying to be a good neighbor, but all I keep leaving are worse and worse impressions.”
I’d made a bad first impression and an awkward second. His opinion of me might have rallied through the week since I kept my distance and dropped off fresh firewood, but after this morning, I’d (literally) shot my chance at a great third impression in the foot. Or close enough to it.
“First, to make up for the… incident… here, I gave him beer and fresh jerky.” Best to leave out the part about how Ryan had only been wearing a towel at that point. “I cut him some firewood, so he wouldn’t have to buy any. But none of those things really went over well…” I trailed off, taking a moment to focus on removing the rest of the flank and tossing it into my good bucket.
“Well, he’s not from around here, Winna. He’s city folk and they’re just different. Busier, I guess. Not too worried about the simple things.” I appreciated my uncle’s calm assurance, but that wasn’t it.
I remained silent for a few seconds, cutting two long slits on either side so I could remove the back straps.
“Today, he was walking in the woods, and I picked him up in my scope—he was walking through where I’ve been trying to get that buck,” I said, the explanation tacked on at the end. “I think it was the first time he’s left the cabin, and he was clearly upset.”