Page 104 of Ice Devil

Since arriving at Beck’s house—correction, his brother’s house—other than bantering at first then him chastising me for needing a man to kill a small bug, he’d said almost nothing. In fact, he’d grunted more than enunciated any actual words.

That’s how pissed he remained.

He’d made dinner including chicken on the grill that had been surprisingly edible. No, that wasn’t fair. He was an amazing cook. Another surprise.

Just like seeing his wolf.

After yawning, I stretched, only to realize a deep ache had settled into my bones. I had to remind myself I’d basically been in a car accident. I was also itching all over, including under the single bandage I had on my leg from a long but not deep gash. The tape alone was enough to make me want to scratch my face off. Instead of looking like some monster, I ripped off the bandage instead.

I’d certainly have a nasty bruise by the end of the day. Wasn’t that called a badge of honor? I wasn’t certain from what because I’d had an angel looking over my shoulder. Well, an angel in devil’s clothing. Or was that a wolf in sheep’s clothing?

I planted my feet on the floor after moving to a sitting position. The window was cracked open to allow in the fresh air and various scents of the forest.

However, the fragrance that lingered in the room was his. Every room in the house smelled like him. Why was it that we couldn’t even hold a decent conversation without snarking at each other? I was just as guilty.

I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the man. Somehow, some way, I had to make him listen to me if only for five minutes. That’s all I needed. Then if he still wanted to hate me, I would leave as soon as the very gruff, angry doctor said it was okay.

Stiff as a board, I made it to the kitchen, noticing a pot of coffee and a mug sitting in front of the coffeemaker. A clean cup. With a little note.

Creamer in the fridge, sugar in the cabinet above. I don’t keep frilly sugars so plain is all you get.

The note was so like him, but as I traced my finger across the cursive letters, I was able to smile. At least he’d thought of me. After pouring a cup, no frilly sugar needed, I moved through the house, ensuring I didn’t touch anything as demanded.

Ford had manly tastes, camel leather furniture surrounding a stone fireplace and a recliner in the corner that had seen better days. Everything has a rustic appeal. From what I knew about Ford and Beck’s other family members, I had a feeling the home captured Beck’s tastes as well.

What I noticed in my trek through the house was that he wasn’t in it. Did he hate me so much that he’d decided to run away from me? I checked the front window. No, his truck was still parked in the same place. Maybe he feared I’d steal him blind.

With a bitter laugh, I headed to the back door, wondering if he’d gone outside. As soon as I stepped out, I was offered an incredible view of a mountain range that appeared so close, I could almost reach out and touch the peaks. They lifted majestically toward the bright blue sky where billowy white clouds floated by.

The weather was nothing like the day before, but I was still able to gather a scent of the forest after a rain. I used to adore storms. Now I wasn’t so certain I’d be able to any longer.

I shielded my eyes from the glare while scanning the back of the property. Still no sign of him. Obviously, he’d taken a walk to stay as far away from me as possible. I leaned over the railing, enjoying the beautiful morning and a delicious cup of coffee.

A few seconds later, a sound caught my attention. Music. Maybe coming from neighbors. No, the closest house was about a mile away. Maybe it was possible the sound carried with the light breeze.

Guitar music. How beautiful. I stood where I was, enjoying whoever the artist was until I realized I wasn’t listening to satellite radio or some other sound stream. Whoever was playing the guitar was doing so in real time.

What were the odds Beck was also a musician?

After a couple of minutes, I grew so curious I did the unthinkable, walking into his bedroom. In the corner was a guitar stand. My goodness. He was playing music.

Maybe he’d kill me then leave me in the wild for animals, but I had to get closer.

I’d need shoes to do that. The only problem was I had one pair and they were definitely not designed to walk through the forest.

They’d need to do.

Just before I went to change, I noticed a pair of his boots near the closet door. What the heck. He wasn’t wearing them. Hmmm… Call me a brat, but I was eager to annoy him. That was one way of getting him to talk to me.

I quickly threw on some clothes. I’d packed quickly, now second guessing what I’d shoved into the single suitcase. The tee shirt and shorts would have to do with my choices being so limited.

While I had to double knot the boots and pray they didn’t fall off, I was ready, fearful he’d stopped playing. I needed the sound to guide me through the trees.

He hadn’t.

As soon as I headed into the forest, all I could think about was how the town was surrounded on all sides by woods. A perfect place for wolves to run freely, getting their freak on.

Maybe the mild concussion was a little deeper than I’d thought. With my thoughts rambling all over the place, I was beginning to wonder if the doctor hadn’t been a quack.