Animal Behavior by Gabrielle Holly Read Free Book Online Page B

glanced over at Jezebel, who was lying on her side,
still panting.
    The man continued, “And finally, there are the earphones—sorry,
ear buds . Who in the hell comes out to one of the most beautiful spots
on the planet on one of the most perfect days imaginable—sun shining, breeze
blowing, birds chirping and river singing—then shoves those things in her ears
and blocks it all out just so she’ll know how to say “Where’s the can?” the
next time she goes to Puerto Vallarta?”
    Gwen thought briefly about correcting him. She was, in fact,
hoping to go to Ixtapa. Instead, she held her tongue and narrowed her eyes—daring
him to finish his thought.
    “I’ll tell you who—a spoiled little yuppie. Thinks she can
throw her imported water bottles into the recycling bin, pay four times too
much for something stamped organic, whip out her gold card and buy some
overpriced clothes off the Internet, then bam , she’s ready to take on
the great outdoors.”
    “First of all, I don’t think anyone’s used the word ‘yuppie’
since 1992 and secondly, I’m not some tourist. I spent every single summer here
when I was a kid and I used to know these woods like the back of my hand.” She
paused to point through a clump of pine trees, “My grandpa taught me how to
fish in that river over there.”
    The man jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the opposite
direction, “River’s that way.”
    “Whatever!”
    “If you would have been paying attention to your
surroundings instead having those things jammed in your ears you might have
heard the cougar and your dog wouldn’t be injured. Do you have any idea
how much worse this could have been?”
    She could feel the angry tears burning in her eyes. The man
looked away briefly and she couldn’t tell if it was out of pity, embarrassment
or disgust. He wrapped gauze over Jezebel’s neck wound, looping it between her
front legs. She whined when he lifted her shoulder. “Shh,” he soothed, and the
dog settled again.
    “Let’s get her back to my place. I’ll help you up,” the man
said, standing and holding out his hand.
    “I’ve got it,” Gwen hissed.
    He dropped his arm to his side. “Suit yourself.”
    He snatched up the leather bag and slung it over his
shoulder.
    “And another thing,” Gwen said to his back, mustering up her
best self-righteous tone, “I don’t appreciate you toting your gun around here.
This is private property, you know?”
    “Yes. You’re right. This is private property. My private property. I assume you’re John Chaney’s granddaughter.”
    She nodded.
    “Which would mean that your private property is about
three hundred yards that way.” He pointed to a spot over her left shoulder,
squeezing one eye shut as if he were aiming for a target. “And it’s a rifle, by
the way.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “It’s a rifle, not a gun, and if I hadn’t fired a warning
shot over that big kitty cat’s head your dog would have been shredded and you
probably wouldn’t be bitching at me now,” he said.
    “What are you—some kind of professional mountain man?”
    He smirked and reached up and ran his hand through his
copper-colored hair. “In a manner of speaking.”
    Gwen sized him up. He was tall, handsome, and he knew it.
She planted her hands, palms down, popped her feet underneath her hips and
stood quickly. A blinding white flash of pain raced from her left ankle to her
brain, and as quickly as she’d been up, she was back in the dirt. The adrenaline
had ebbed from her bloodstream, leaving her brain free to register both the
confrontation with the cougar and the pain from the resulting twisted ankle. A
wave of nausea rolled over her and she began to quake.
    “Let me have a look,” he said and crouched beside her. He
unlaced her boot and grasped the heel. “Deep breath,” he said and gently
removed it.
    Gwen sucked in air through her clenched teeth and wondered
if her foot had come off with the boot.
    “Sorry,” he whispered. He