Love of the Wild (4 page)

Jim shivered with rage. How dare the man doubt him? “
Little
? Since I was hanging high up, shouldn’t it have seemed smaller from a distance? ’Cause it was huge. Not tiny.”

Dak turned to Jim, his expression once again neutral and blank. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Faulkner, for bringing me my much-needed supplies. Good day.”

Then he opened the door, stepped into the cabin, and closed the door behind him. In effect, he had ended the conversation. And Jim was no closer to getting answers or getting closer to the man who made him feel young and horny again.

But damned if Jim was going to let this man dismiss him so casually.

Hopping mad, Jim rushed toward the cabin.

But since he wasn’t looking, his foot caught on a tree root. A part of the root popped up from the ground in a loop. Jim felt the pain twist through his ankle, and then he saw the ground getting closer. A sharp, white light flashed across his senses as his forehead made contact with a rock. Then the pain vanished, and so did his consciousness.

For the third time in two days, Jim passed out.

“O
H
,
WHAT
the…?” Jim groaned as he began to awaken.

He’d been floating in darkness without a care, without thoughts, emotions, or dreams of any kind. But now heaviness returned to his body, weighing him down under the force of gravity and reality. Tendrils of pain caressed his awareness and clawed at him underneath his skin. A dull ache throbbed in his head and another seemed to echo in his left leg.

“Don’t try to move. Your ankle is twisted, and you have a bad bump on your head. I just got the bleeding to stop ten minutes ago. Rest now.” Jim recognized Dak’s voice, calm and low, devoid of derision for a change.

“What happened?” His distorted, fragmented memories provided enough flashbacks for embarrassment to swamp his mind. Dak was the one person in the world Jim wouldn’t have wanted to show any weakness in front of. But he was disoriented, and Dak was his sole source of information.

“You tripped and hurt your ankle and head.” Dak spoke matter-of-factly, as if he didn’t care one bit. Jim swallowed down his continuing disappointment—and tried to damp down the renewed half-hard state of his dick, which vibrated at the sound of Dak’s voice. Damn, why did this man’s voice do this to him every single time? It wasn’t fair.

“I was bleeding…?” That didn’t sound promising at all. In reflex, his hand rose up to find the closed gash and to feel how serious it might be.

A strong but gentle hand pushed his down. “Hush. I’ve cleaned the wound and patched it up. You’ll be all right. Just rest now.”

Jim let his arm fall back on the bed. For that was where he found himself again. In Dak’s bed. Only the situation still wasn’t what he would have wished for. Or at least what his body craved. Why did his senses and body yearn for a man who couldn’t stand him for some reason?

He smelled smoke from the fireplace, the same pungent hot drink that he’d had when he’d been here last, and Dak’s natural musky odor—oh, so delicious. “So, you had to rescue me again. God, you must be getting bored by now.” Jim wasn’t sure if his tone showed his bitterness or his self-deprecation. Either way, he felt low and deflated.

Dak said nothing at first, and Jim thought the man had let the remark slide. He wasn’t sure if that relieved or upset him.

Finally Dak spoke, his tone hushed. “Some men need a keeper.”

That remark had Jim wishing he could sit up without vomiting and rush out of the cabin without limping or falling. He bristled bitterly. “Gee, thanks.”

“It wasn’t a recrimination. Just an observation.”

Jim snorted sardonically. “Yeah, right. You’re living out here in the boondocks with not another person around for miles, but still you’re a master of observational psychology when it comes to human behavior. Amazing ability to be able to do all that from a distance. Who’d a thunk it?”

Annoyed with himself for showing weakness in front of Dak, Jim started to get up.

A strong hand pressed him back down firmly, the weight unyielding.

Jim tried to swat the hand away, but he overestimated his own strength, and his hand fell on his face, stinging his nose. “Son of a…!”

A long-suffering sigh reached his ears, followed by steady fingers lifting Jim’s hand from his face. “I know you don’t want to be here, Mr. Faulkner. But this is the situation for now. You must rest. The sooner you do, the sooner you can leave.”

“Wow, the second most you’ve ever said to me. I’m honored.”

Jim longed to turn around, to hide his shame and irritation at being so rattled by a man who didn’t even know him, and vice versa. Why was he letting Dak get to him so? Once Jim was done with his assignment here, he’d never return. He’d never have to see Dak again.

In fact, he didn’t have to see Dak now. Jim kept his eyes closed tight, praying for sleep so he could forget the man entirely.

A tender brush of fingers shifted some strands of hair from his forehead. Shivering, Jim was utterly confused. And his prick rose up so hot and hard he could have cut glass with the damn thing.

“I have to tell you, I’m getting some mixed signals here…,” Jim muttered, refusing to open his eyes, not wanting to see whatever it was that awaited in Dak’s eyes. Those hazel eyes, like fires burning bright, illuminating the darkness surrounding Jim’s existence. Of all the people in the whole freaking world, why did he have to have the hots for
this
guy?

The fingers lifted, leaving Jim bereft and angry again.

“Rest now.” A chair creaked, so Dak must have stood up. A faint shuffling sound of feet moving, and then another creak as the cabin door opened. “I’ll be back soon. Jim.” Then the door closed.

Breathless, Jim lay in place, his heart beating way too fast for his comfort. Dak had called him Jim. He’d called him by his first name, and it had sounded intimate.

Infuriated by his own hopeful ruminations, Jim shook his head violently on the pillow and shoved the thoughts down to the bottom of his mind. No point in wishing for things that would never happen. Despite the soft touch a moment before, Dak had made it clear he despised townies like Jim. The snobbish scorn burned holes through Jim’s self-confidence
and
self-control. He longed to snap back, but the man kept saving him, so he couldn’t.

Focusing on his breathing and nothing else, Jim relaxed his body, letting it go heavy, ignoring the temporary stabs of pain, and attempting to rest.

When he suddenly felt a cool, wet towel press gently against his forehead, he started

“Easy,” Dak said soothingly. “You’ve slept some more. An hour or so. You’re still safe and all right. I’m just checking on the wound.”

Jim let the man clean his wound, the one he couldn’t see. Each feathery touch sent both pain and relief through him. “Where’d you go?” He had his suspicions. “Daniel?”

“I don’t have a phone, and the town is too far away on foot. I would’ve had to leave you alone for too long.”

Jim frowned, eyes still shut tight. “The truck’s just down the—”

“I can’t drive. Never learned.”

That silenced Jim. He’d never known anyone who didn’t know how to drive, even if they didn’t actually own a car. It seemed like such a civilized skill to know. Especially essential for someone who lived so far away from other people. “Oh.” He felt his cheeks flame, not able to tell if it was embarrassment or some other emotion.

“I could hike to the ranger’s station up the mountainside. It’s only an hour’s climb away. They have a radio. If you want me to get Daniel, that is.” Dak’s tone held an edge, a curious tension Jim couldn’t understand. It couldn’t be jealousy. Didn’t the man want him gone?

“You said I’d be all right soon,” Jim said, half asking.

“The dizziness will pass, unless you have a concussion. But I think it’s just a bump. And your ankle will be fine by tomorrow.”

“Then I can drive myself back to town,” Jim finished the sentence himself.

“Right.” Dak’s tone still sounded hard, and Jim was more confused by the minute.

Jim thought it might be a good idea to change the subject for a while. “I don’t suppose you have anything to eat. I’m a little hungry.”

Dak’s chair creaked as he moved. “I have rabbit stew cooking. I have some bread and cheese and fresh tomatoes too. It’s simple food. Made it myself.” The man must have done it all while Jim was out for the count. “Will that do?”

Jim nodded, and though his eyes were closed, his head spun briefly before settling again. “Yeah. To be honest, that sounds wonderful.” Jim smelled the cooking meat, the smoke from the fire, and several other delicious food aromas. The supplies must have included fresh fruit, vegetables, and bread, he surmised. His stomach grumbled. “Sorry.”

“The food will be done soon. Here, let me help you up.”

Big, powerful arms wound around his lower back and beneath his shoulders. Then Jim was lifted upward with ease and pushed gently against the wooden headboard.

It was then that Jim had to open his eyes.

Dak’s face was so close to his, a mere inch or two separated them. Jim saw that his smooth, dark skin held the golden luster of someone who spent much time outdoors and lived and ate right. His muscles bulged from hard physical labor: chopping wood, hunting, and so on. Once more Jim was struck by how utterly breathtaking Dak was: a prime specimen of manhood. His long black hair smelled like smoke and pines and sunshine, and Jim found himself inhaling deeply.

The sound made Dak regard him sharply, his brow furrowing.

Jim’s breath hitched. His body hummed at Dak’s nearness, and a hot surge of need overwhelmed him. His cock filled with blood, swelling and hardening to a painful degree.

The frown on Dak’s forehead deepened. But all of a sudden, his hazel eyes darkened to chocolate brown, and then his gaze dropped to Jim’s lips.

Jim’s heart jumped at the sight. Did Dak want him?

Like a visible sign of a crack in his invisible armor, Dak blinked repeatedly and swallowed hard. His hold on Jim tightened.

But then, in a flash, Dak moved off so fast Jim’s back thumped against the headboard. Turning his back to Jim, Dak hurried to the fireplace where the rabbit stew was bubbling slowly.

The loss of contact tasted bitter indeed. Jim closed his eyes. Honestly, what had he expected from this man? Even if Dak was by some miraculous chance attracted to him, there was no way the man would act on the impulse. He had made his dislike of Jim crystal clear.

Opening his eyes, Jim watched Dak stir the stew in the black iron pot, use a ladle to put some into a small wooden bowl, and bring it to Jim. “Here. Careful. It’s hot.” Jim ignored the advice, directed more to a child than a grown man.

“Thanks.” Jim accepted the food, hunger making his stomach growl. Dak gave him another glass bottle of water. “Thanks,” Jim murmured again. Savoring his simple meal, Jim all but inhaled the food. The rabbit tasted divine, with thyme and peppers giving it flavor, and carrots and peas adding substance to the broth. The rye bread, aged cheese, and tomatoes were icing on the cake. It was the best supper Jim had had in ages, and he heard himself moan with appreciation.

“Glad you like it.” Dak sat in his chair by the fire again, slowly eating also. His gaze never remained still for long, flicking to the flames, the windows, Jim, the food, and so on. Jim tried not to feel aggravated, but he doubted his success.

“You’re a great cook.” He thought a simple compliment couldn’t go wrong.

Dak stared at his food, shoveling it in his mouth almost lazily, his mind seemingly miles away. “Thank you. Living alone necessitates learning basic skills.”

Jim thought that as good a segue as he was going to get. “May I ask, why are you living here all by yourself?”

Dak’s jaw clenched. That miffed gesture required little interpretation. “Don’t much like people.”

“Daniel’s your friend.”

“He’s an acquaintance who has the good grace to leave me alone most of the time.”

Well, that was cold, Jim thought. “What if something happens to you here?”

Dak shrugged, his expression blank. “Then I die alone.”

Jim knew his jaw was hanging open in shock. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s right for me.” His fiery gaze rose to lock with Jim. “Anyway, who are you to judge the way I live my life?”

Jim was taken aback. “I wasn’t—”

Dak wasn’t done. “What makes you the expert on the right kind of living?”

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Jim said quietly, “If you wish to fight, do it by yourself. My head hurts too much.”

A slight reddening appeared on Dak’s sheepish face, and he fidgeted uncomfortably. Jim suppressed a mild satisfaction at the reaction. “I apologize,” Dak said gruffly and then dug in to his meal once more.

They finished their supper in awkward silence. The tension was thick, but Jim felt too achy to really give it much thought. He set the bowl aside, finished his water, and sank back into the warm bed. With half-lidded eyes he watched dust flakes dancing in the sunbeams. A woodpecker’s rapid knocking echoed in the woods, adding a sharper sound to the soft rustle of foliage in the wind. It was naturally serene, and Jim felt lethargic.

Next thing he knew, he awoke with a start as the door creaked open. A dark silhouette entered silently. Fear gripped Jim until he recognized Dak’s huge bulk edge closer to the firelight.

The man immediately noticed Jim was awake. “How are you feeling?”

Jim glanced around. The sky outside the windows was orange. “Is it night already?”

Dak nodded. “Yes.” He came closer, sitting on a stool by the bed. “In an hour it will be too dark to see. There’s a tub out back. I’ve filled it. Would you like to take a bath?”

The idea of getting naked this close to Dak made the hairs on Jim’s nape stand out. “Oh, I don’t know…,” he hedged. “My head….”

“It might make you feel better. Head and all.”

Jim swallowed, blanching. “Well, I guess…. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course not.” Dak stood up, his posture rigid and expectant. “I can help you outside if you wish.”