Desert Blood (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 2) by Anna Lowe Read Free Book Online Page A

when Buddy died, he’d always been there for her.
    “The absolute best.”
    Cody’s eyes danced. “Better than Lassie?”
    She laughed. He’d chosen the right moment to lighten things up. She was much too tense. “Way better.”
    “Better than Rin-Tin-Tin?”
    “A totally different class.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “What about Benji? Benji could solve crimes, you know.” His eyes sparkled at some inside joke.
    She shook her head, unimpressed. “Buddy didn’t need to solve crimes; he was so good at keeping trouble away.”
    “Big dog.” Cody shook his head skeptically.
    “I like big dogs.”
    His head tilted to one side. “How big?”
    “Big.” What was this, some kind of Freudian analysis? She moved from the kitchenette, holding out the bowl of strawberries, willing her hand not to shake. “Dessert?”
    Cody grinned, and she immediately felt her face heat in a flush.
    Never trust any man!
the fearful voice cried. But this time, the voice came from a distance, as if it had been grabbed by the scruff of its neck and was being escorted out the back door, fading away into the night.
Don’t trust anyone…
    Cody snagged a strawberry and continued his inspection, tilting the photo of Heather and Cathy to the light. The two of them in uniform, hockey sticks crossed. “Field hockey, huh?”
    She forced a light tone even as her gut clenched at the memory of Cathy. “I played in college.”
    “Let me guess. Defense.”
    Heather frowned. Did she really come across that way? Wary, on guard? She shook her head. “Midfield.” The ones who covered the most miles. Like she’d done her whole life.
    “You look dangerous with that stick.”
    “You better believe it.” She faked a chuckle. “It’s still in my car, actually. I never get around to taking it out.” She left out the rest—how it filled some of the emptiness of the backseat with Buddy gone. Buddy, with his long ears, flopping in the breeze.
    “I’ll make sure to be good.” He looked at Heather like she was the next photograph to study, and then snagged another berry.
    Pulse spiking, she ducked around him and slid the patio door open with a screech. Normally, she kept herself locked up at night, but some irrepressible urge called to her. Mesquite from the neighbor’s barbecue wafted in along with the nutmeg-vanilla flavor of the night-scented flower. It was the scent of a vast space. The scent of possibility.
    “Scorpio’s up,” Cody said, a whisper at her shoulder. His scent joined the others. Distinctly Cody, it was like the beach at midnight: warm and inviting. But danger wasn’t far off, not with this man. She could feel the coiled power in him. Around him, almost. Like a force field. Maybe if she stood close enough, it would protect her, too.
    That, or it would kill her with one electrifying jolt.
    She had the distinct feeling he was sniffing her. One in ten hairs on the back of her neck stood; the other nine cheered. She wouldn’t mind sniffing him back. Inhaling, actually, right at the crook of his neck.
    A hand reached around her and teased the pile of strawberries before selecting one. It moved right past her ear and turned into a luscious sound even as the scent of it made her mouth water. She could picture his lips closing around the strawberry, fingers tugging the stem free. Oh, to dance with this man again. To lose her fears in those arms. The physical beckoned, not just as a thrill but as a gateway to more. But how, how to proceed?
    The couple of men Heather had slept with had all started as friends. A one-thing-led-to-another-and-then-we-were-naked kind of thing. She’d never slept with a stranger; never let things get wild after too many drinks or a few heated looks. Cody was not quite a stranger, but not quite a friend. Yet the desert kept whispering his name to her, again and again.
    She closed her eyes and listened. A faraway voice had joined the whisper. Voices? No, yips—the sound of coyotes, howling in the distance.