Uncaged (15 page)

Movement caught her eye. A burly man with an inscrutable expression rose from behind a counter as if he was part of a magic act. He was tall with a barrel chest. A nappy brown sweater coupled with hunched posture lent him a distinctly bearlike appearance.

The dour gentleman focused on Sela with a frown. “Where did you come from?”

Steppenwolf’s “Born To Be Wild” was cranked to eleven. She had to shout to be heard, “Can I order some food to go?”

The saggy-faced Papa bear behind the counter appeared perturbed. “Fair warning, miss. The kitchen’s closed. Pretty sure we don’t have what you want.”

The explosive clack of a pool cue making hard contact with a ball nearly drowned her out. “Except for you, everything’s closed in this town!”

A few customers cast her a brief glance then looked away. The lucky bastards sat in front of pitchers of cold beer, towering hamburgers, paired with heaps of french fries or onion rings. Her stomach growled embarrassingly loud, but she doubted anyone could hear above the blaring music. “Something smells heavenly. Could I at least order onion rings to go?”

Bear man shook his head. “Sorry. No can do. Fryer’s turned off.”

“Really?” Digging through her purse, she wondered if this place would accept a credit card. “I’m willing to pay a little extra for the trouble.”

With a sullen pout, he rubbed a limp rag across the countertop. “After hours The Den ain’t open to the general public. Guess what? It’s after hours.”

“Oh, come on!” She sounded desperate.

A man in a red plaid shirt, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, sat at the counter. He shot her a smoldering look filled with mixed emotions. Perhaps he was angry or lost in thought. She couldn’t tell. The flash of fire in his eyes beneath brooding black brows was impossible to decipher. When he opened his mouth, the tough gravel voice of a drill sergeant rumbled out. “Gee, don’t be a hard ass. Get the lady some onion rings.”

The lumbering hairy thing behind the counter, presumably named Gee, thrust out his bottom lip and lifted his hands into the air in mock surrender. “Why not? It’s not like my house rules ever get any respect anyway.”

From the corner of her eye, Sela glimpsed a huge silver-furred canine dart from under a table, push a swinging door open with its muzzle, and disappear.

“Did I just see a wolf?” Sela gasped.

A rude sputter surged past Gee lips. “A wolf?”

She pointed toward the swinging door. “A large animal ran in there.”

Gee appeared unfazed by her claim. “I hope not. That’s our kitchen.”

Sela sat at the bar. “I think I’ve got wolves on the brain. May I please order some food? I’ll take anything.” She glanced with suspicion at a cylindrical, vaguely obscene-looking item set on a plate. “I’ll probably be sorry I asked, but what is that?”

“Fried pickle.” Gee grunted. “House specialty. Not too sure what we’ve got left. If you’re hungry for something else, you’d do better going down the street.”

“The ice-cream stand? It looked like they were closing for the night.” Sela’s gaze drifted toward Mr. Hard-To-Read. On second glance, she noticed how attractive he was in a rugged, swarthy sort of way. A fringe of thick lashes softened his commanding dark eyes, which might have appeared intimidating to some. The detail added a touch of beauty to an otherwise tough guy face. He was busy tapping his palm against an inverted bottle of ketchup. Crimson sauce dripped over a glistening patty three fingers thick. To add to the torment, he swirled a golden fry into the luscious puddle.

She turned toward Gee. “Any chance of getting a burger?”

Gee crossed his heavy arms in front of his chest. “I’m pretty sure the grill’s shut down for the night. Plaid shirt got the last one.” He offered the plate on the countertop. “How about a cold fried pickle instead?”

Her heart sank. “Is there a grocery store near?”

“Yes,” Gee answered with a snort. “Won’t do you no good. They don’t open until eight a.m.”

The dark-eyed man slid his plate toward her. His gaze simmered. “You can have this one.”

Shocked by his gesture and almost salivating at the same time, she shook her head. “I couldn’t take your meal. What about you?”

The swinging kitchen doors burst open. A man with a rumpled head of silver hair stormed toward the counter while tying an apron around his waist. “Last call for food!” He sounded breathless. “Who needs something from the grill?” He pointed at Sela. “How about you? What can I get you?”

Gee looked appalled. “Damn you, Clive. I almost had her talked into the pickle.”

“Don’t be a grouch,” Clive muttered. “The sooner the lady’s served the sooner she can be on her way.”

Sela was quick to answer. “I want what he has, but I’ll take onion rings if you have them instead of fries.” She paused. “Wait. The fries look awfully good, too.”

“They are.” The cook was curt. “Why choose? Have both. I’ll split the order fifty-fifty. I’ll start now. In no time, you’ll be back in your car.”

Her hopes soared. “Thank you. That would be perfect.”

The cook’s heavy brows shot upward. “How would you like your patty cooked miss…?”

“López, my name’s Sela López. I’ll be a resident of Los Lobos County this summer. I’ve rented a cabin on Gray Paw Mountain.” Everyone perked up in a weird way. They looked a bit too interested in what she’d said. The response was unsettling.

Gee glowered. “You’re the one renting the cabin?”

She realized this was probably a good time to change the subject. “I would like my patty medium rare.”

Damn. Why the hell had she announced to a bunch of strange men in a bar she was going to living alone in a remote cabin on the edge of a national park? Not smart.

“López?” Gee guffawed He appeared amused as if he were privy to the funniest private joke in the world. “López means ‘wolf’! You gotta love the irony.” He gave Plaid Shirt a nudge. “Rio, did you know her name was López?”

Rio lifted his chin. “I knew.”

“What’s going on?” Sela’s temper flared. “Am I missing something? What’s so funny about my name? López is a common Hispanic surname.”

Rio offered her his hand. “Miss López, my name is Rio Waya. You rented the cabin on Gray Paw Mountain from me. You’re hours late. I was expecting you to arrive before sunset.”

She gulped. “I’m sorry. I badly miscalculated the distances out here. I thought I would call when I got to town. I hoped perhaps you could give me directions over the phone and talk me in?”

Rio shook his head. “You’d never find the cabin by yourself in the dark. This isn’t Los Angeles. There are no street signs. The cabin’s hidden beyond miles of timber, gravel, and unmarked dirt road. You’ll have to follow me. I’ll lead us in.”

“Wait a moment!” Panic rose in her voice. This guy, attractive as he was, was still a man. She certainly didn’t need one of those, especially during her summer of soul-healing. “I was told I’d have privacy at the cabin. I don’t want a roommate or a landlord crowding me.”

“I won’t be crowding you.” Rio’s expressive brows sank. Obviously, he’d taken offense. “The only thing we’ll be sharing is a mountain. I’ll be living five miles away at the Los Lobos ranger station. Will that satisfy your need for privacy?”

“Yes.”

His lip curled with a hint of sarcasm. “At least the first matter is settled. One thing at a time.”

“Pardon me. Is there a problem I’m unaware of?”

“Last night’s e-mail mentioned your desire to do a documentary on Los Lobo’s growing wolf population. Filming here is not a good idea. If I had known this was your intention, I would have refused you use of my cabin.”

She was stunned. “I drove eleven-hundred miles to get here. The documentary is the entire purpose of my trip. All I’ll do is film and photograph wolves outside the national park. Who will I hurt?”

Rio’s gaze hardened. “The wolves.”

“How so? I’ll treat this subject with respect. This isn’t amateur wildlife photography, like you might be thinking. I plan to win the wolves over, gain their trust, and take portraits of each one as an individual. The presentation will be like a family album.”

“Sounds sweet, but has it occurred to you publishing photographs of individual wolves and showing their exact location outside the protection of the park puts them at grave risk?”

“From who?”

“Pissed-off ranchers, poachers, and any number of psychos who get their kicks owning the pelt of an animal everybody else has fawned over. Do you have any idea how many creeps out there would love to say they shot ol’ White Socks and her pups or whatever you christen the wolves? A lot. The sad part is they’ll never be prosecuted. If they claim they felt threatened, they’ll be within their rights to shoot. The wolves aren’t protected on private land.”

“I disagree. I plan to bring positive attention to Los Lobos wolf population. In the long run, the more people aware of the problem, the safer the wolves will be.”

His hands clenched to fists. “No offense, Miss López, but you just drove in from Los Angeles. You can’t fully grasp how complicated our situation is.”

“I have a Jeep parked in back, loaded with film equipment. I spent the last eight months of my life doing extensive wolf research and nearly all my savings on this project. I need this to work, so please don’t insult me by saying I haven’t given this serious thought.”

Rio stood, revealing a powerful build. He stepped closer until she was forced to tip her chin up. “I could choose to give your deposit back. I don’t have to rent the cabin to you.”

“You could, but I won’t be stopped. I’ll figure out something else.” She stared at Rio. He returned the stiletto gaze in the most provoking way with nostrils flared. She sensed this was a crucial challenge and held her ground, willing herself not to blink. He loomed so close she felt his warm breath on her cheek.

Finally, he broke the death-stare and looked away. “I’ll give you credit for being determined. Miss López, will you accept some helpful advice?”

The brief but intense mini-standoff left her rattled. “Sure.”

“My advice to you is—accept helpful advice. Don’t charge off by yourself. You’ll get into trouble. Tell me what you plan to do. I’ll assist you within reason. I know the wolf population in Los Lobos. There are certain things in this group you can or cannot do. If I tell you not to do something, I expect you to respect the boundary.”

She bristled. “I always tread lightly. This isn’t a hobby. This is what I do. I’ve shot and produced six wildlife documentaries for the public broadcasting channels. I admit I’m more familiar with Central and South America. Experience has taught me how to deal with delicate matters and local politics. This is my first time working in South Dakota, but seriously, what’s so different about the situation in Los Lobos?”

Looking like a grizzly rearing onto its hind legs, Gee leaned over the counter in a conspicuous attempt to eavesdrop.

“Do you have to stand so close?” Rio gave Gee a withering look. “Can we have a moment of privacy—please?”

“You’re in over your head.” Gee ambled away with a huff.

Rio corralled Sela with his arm. The stern line of his mouth softened. “The cabin’s built on sacred land I inherited from my grandmother. She was a full-blood Cherokee. ‘Waya’ is the Cherokee word for wolf. My grandmother’s kin have always had a special spiritual relationship with the wolves.”

The penetrating gleam in his eyes warned her he was not the sort a man to disregard. “You mean a Cherokee wolf mythology?”

“No. I mean a family mythology. The Wayas have been doing their own thing for a long time.”

She drew a tense breath. “I think I understand. You’re concerned I’m going to be disrespectful to your ancestors or do something blasphemous with the wolves and record everything on film?”

“Um.” He appeared perplexed. “Something like that.”

“Then please tell me exactly what I shouldn’t do.”

“I’d ask you to walk away from Los Lobos. To not film the wolves at all, but I don’t believe for a moment you’d listen.”

She shook her head. “You’re right. I won’t walk away. I have my heart set on this. If you turn me down, I’ll rent another cabin or set up camp somewhere else.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Looking directly at Rio, she noticed his eyes appeared a much warmer shade of brown than she had first thought. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll treat the cabin with respect and the wolves as if they were part of my own family.”

He immediately averted his gaze. “I suppose we could try.”

“Medium rare.” Gee set a steaming hamburger buried beneath heaps of fries and onion rings in front of Sela.

Everything on the plate looked delicious. “Thank you. I thought I ordered this to go?”

“Stay awhile. Enjoy your food.” Gee gave Rio a sickly sweet little grin. “L.A. stood up to you. I like her.”

The crease between his brows deepened. “Gee, no one asked your opinion.”

She gingerly picked up a fistful of scorching hot fries and ferried them over to Rio’s plate.

He appeared puzzled. “Why?”

“Peace offering.” She wondered what he looked like when he smiled. “I’m sure yours are cold by now.”

Rio picked up one of the token offerings, lifting the hot french fry to his lips. He didn’t even care he was about to get burned big time. In fact, he wanted the pain. Better to take the punishment now than suffer a shitload of hurt after he did something stupid like make a play for Sela López, which absolutely, positively could not happen. To his eyes, she was knockout gorgeous with killer curves. She had plenty of sass, too. She hadn’t backed down a bit from his most withering I-just-put-you-in-your-place look.

Something else caught him off-guard—her scent. One whiff of her subtle female aroma had brought his blood to a boil.

Holy crap, what had he gotten himself into? By the tone of her e-mail inquiries about the cabin, he’d come to the false conclusion Miss López was a dried-up academic collecting data about the Los Lobos wolf population. Instead, a Latina temptress with an ass that made him want to bite his fist and whimper had shown up.

This was a touchy situation. Without doubt, Miss López had to be discouraged from the task at hand with efficient stealth. He had to send her on her merry way ASAP. Statistics and graphs were one thing, a full-blown, television-quality documentary coupled with possible exposure of the “family secret” was another. Dealing with Sela wasn’t going to be easy. Likely, he was already fucked.