Loving Deep: Steele Ridge Series Page 9

  He hadn’t bothered notifying the North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission or the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Both were useless to him. The combination of the Commission renouncing the red wolf as a distinct species and an independent report revealing the Service’s lack of adequate support for the Red Wolf Reintroduction Program had once again thrown the program into a tailspin of impending failure.

  The numerous papers and handwritten notes on his desk blurred in front of him. Between working on the Shepherd property issue, refurbishing Ronnie Smith’s kitchen, and checking in on Reid’s contractors, Britt had slept less than four hours a night in the past week. He rubbed his tired eyes, wondering how the hell he was going to fix this thing with Randi.

  Considering the amount of business flowing through Blues, Brews, and Books, Britt had a hard time believing her company was in financial trouble. But he trusted his brother. The guy had his nose up everyone’s business. Grif had only been back in North Carolina for a few months and he knew more about the inner workings of the town than Britt, who’d been here his whole life.

  So what had happened? How had a thriving business taken a dive? Lawsuit? Bad investment? Poor bookkeeping? More than once, he’d seen on Gordon Ramsay’s show tales of how a bad chef could have a disastrous impact on a restaurant—ordering too much inventory, allowing a decline in the quality of the food, not having control of the kitchen. Britt recalled his recent lunch and couldn’t fault the service or the food. But maybe Carlie Beth had something to do with his positive experience.

  As closemouthed as Randi was, he’d probably never find out the exact reason behind the bar’s imminent collapse. The realization bothered him more than it should.

  A knock sounded on his cabin door, jerking him out of his thoughts of Randi’s financial crisis. He glanced at his phone—9:20 p.m. He rarely got visitors and never any after sunset.

  He moved toward the window and looked out. A red Jeep sat in his drive. Britt’s heart slammed against the wall of his chest before sliding into a freefall toward his stomach. He stared at the door for a confused moment, unable to reason out why Randi Shepherd would be at his door at this time of night.

  Another knock, this one more forceful, compelled him into motion. Bracing one hand on the doorframe, he eased opened the door. “Randi.” He peered behind her. “Can I help you?”

  “Am I interrupting anything?”

  He shook his head. “I needed a break.” He waved her inside, though he didn’t move aside.

  Wearing a sleeveless floral summer dress and low-heeled tan sandals, she looked as feminine as he’d ever seen her. She wasn’t wearing one of those strappy getups that showed her cleavage and two-thirds of her thighs, though Britt wouldn’t have complained if she had. Her outfit looked like something Audrey Hepburn would have worn. Feminine, elegant, enticing.

  “Going out, or headed home?” He would rather have told her how beautiful she looked, but her expression did not welcome compliments.

  “On my way home.” She brushed her hand over her skirt. “I attended a fundraiser in Asheville.”

  “What kind of fundraiser?”

  “Political. One of my college friends is running for state office.” She scanned his entryway. “Not really my thing, but Natalie begged me to attend.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Got any beer?”

  “I’m a Steele. We always have beer at the ready.”

  When he closed the fridge door, he found her circling the edges of the living room, squinting at family pictures and picking up knickknacks. Her inspection of his personal items was unnerving. What did she think when she saw the picture of him and his siblings? Most of his pictures were more than twenty years old, when times were more fun, carefree. He didn’t have a single picture of him and his entire family together in the past decade. The realization created a hollow feeling in his heart.

  Holding out a bottle, he said, “Here you go.”

  She accepted the beer and took a long draw before resurfacing.

  “Better?”

  Nodding, she glanced around as if wanting to sit.

  Dammit. Where were his manners? His mother would not be pleased.

  “Have a seat.” He indicated the soft brown leather sofa. Once she was comfortable, he asked again, “What brings you out here so late?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you. Your light was on and I didn’t see any other vehicles in the drive, so I decided to give it a shot.”

  “Give what a shot?”

  “See if you’d invite me in.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I told you earlier this week that I had nothing against you.” He lifted his bottle to his mouth and tilted his head back. “As much as I cared for your mother, I blame Barbara, not you, for our predicament.”

  “Speaking of predicament, have you made any headway in raising the necessary funds?”

  And just like that, the air cooled to thirty-two degrees.

  “I still have until tomorrow.”

  “Yes, but the buyer’s attorney contacted me today. He’s going to stop by tomorrow, and I’d like to give him my answer.” She searched his features. “Surely, you know by now whether or not you can get a loan or find a sponsor.”

  Helpless anger blurred Britt’s vision. He pushed it back and concentrated on diluting their conversation down to a cold-blooded business transaction. No emotion, nothing to lose. “If I add my savings, cabin, property, business, and truck to the money the bank is willing to lend me, I’ll be close—”

  “Your cabin and truck? Your business?” she asked, horrified. “Why would you give up everything of value to save Mom’s property? I don’t understand.”

  “Because I made her a promise.” And because I am the wolves’ last hope.

  “No promise is worth the kind of sacrifice you’re suggesting.”

  “Normally, I would agree with you. But, in this case, it is.”

  “I can’t do ‘close,’ Britt.”

  He bolted from his chair, startling her. At the moment, he didn’t care. She was one comment away from leaving, and he couldn’t think of a way to stop her. His mind sparked in a thousand different directions. Staring out the picture window, he saw nothing of the towering cluster of trees or the dilapidated shed. He saw only his reflection, his failure.

  If he’d been Grif, he could have charmed her over to his side. Jonah could have waved a wad of cash to win her over. Reid could have…God only knew how, but the devil would have managed the situation. Britt had—nothing. Not a single special quality he could employ.

  A light touch on his sleeve brought his attention around to an insanely beautiful pair of green eyes. How many times had he lost himself in their depths? Had wanted her to see him as a man and not just a patron? Had wanted to gather her into his arms and kiss her until they clawed at each other for release?

  “There’s something more going on here than a mere promise,” she said in a tone one reserved for wild animals. “Tell me.”

  His gaze dipped to her mouth for an aching second before returning to the outdoors. Complete darkness had set in, making their reflection even more pronounced. Impenetrable.

  Could he trust her with his most valuable secret?

  Could he afford not to at this point?

  Barbara hadn’t done so. Wouldn’t a mother confide in her only daughter?

  Probably not, given their estrangement.

  Dammit, he didn’t want to make an irrevocable mistake. So much rode on the wolves remaining invisible.

  He sought her gaze in their reflection. The glass barrier could not disguise her compassion, her strength, her honor. Trust budded through his veins, strengthening with every inch traveled until his spine snapped straight with his resolve.

  He took a Mount St. Helens-sized leap of faith.

  “An endangered species lives on the property.”

  “Plant or animal?”

  “Isn’t it enough to know one exists?”

  “No.
North Carolina has nearly fifty species of plants and animals listed as endangered. Due to its pristine nature, I don’t doubt the property contains one or more on the list.”

  “If you know this, why consider selling to someone else?”

  “Part of the buyer’s mission is wildlife conservation. Seems a good fit to me.”

  “There are many levels of wildlife conservation. Many of which your mother did not approve.”

  “Then she should have willed the property to you. But she didn’t, so it’s left to me to figure out the best course of action.”

  A nugget of hope rattled the cage of Britt’s growing despair. Not many people could recite the number of endangered species in their state. Hell, he only knew because of the research he’d been doing in the last year. So, why would Randi—someone who’d shunned the environment for more than a decade—know such a thing?

  “In 1980, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declared the species extinct in the wild. Through a successful reintroduction program, the species has made a small comeback, but none have been known to exist this far west since the late nineties. Until now.”

  Randi sucked in a sharp breath. “A canid?”

  “Yes.”

  “Red wolf.” Awe wove between the two short words. She didn’t ask him to confirm or doubt her answer. “A breeding pair?”

  “And a litter this year.”

  She covered her mouth with shaking hands, then lifted her wonder-filled gaze to his. “Show me.”

  12

  Randi hit the alarm button as soon as the sound of ocean waves and seagulls began at 4:00 a.m. the next morning. Excitement vibrated through her veins. She was going to see the fabled red wolf in the wild today—and pups!

  It had taken her forever to fall asleep, knowing what lay in store for her today. When Britt had said to meet him at 5:00 a.m., she hadn’t even blinked. She would have gotten up at three, if he’d asked.

  Turning on the shower, Randi shed her pajama bottoms and T-shirt while waiting for the water to warm up. How had the wolves survived so long? Her mother had often mentioned the challenges the red wolf faced—mixing with coyotes, lack of protected land, laws that allowed livestock owners to kill them.

  Randi couldn’t even guess how many letters her mother had sent to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, urging them to put more resources toward the wolves’ protection. Despite all that, a full-blooded breeding pair had survived the defunct Great Smoky Mountain program.

  There must be more. How else could the pair she was about to see exist? If memory served, the Smoky Mountain program closed down in the mid-nineties. Which meant more purebloods might be in the area.

  She threw on tan cargo pants, a dark blue cami, and an olive-green button-down long-sleeved shirt. She laced up her Columbia hiking boots before dabbing on some mascara and a bit of under-eye concealer and foundation. Natural beauty she was not.

  She tossed a hairbrush, ponytail holder, small fleece blanket, first-aid kit, binoculars, and an extra pair of socks into a rucksack. From the kitchen she added four power bars, four water bottles, her wallet, phone, solar charger, tin of mints, and ball cap.

  She peered into the pockets of her stuffed rucksack, feeling as though she was forgetting something important. This sort of thing used to be second nature to her, but time and neglect had made her rusty.

  Shrugging, she cinched up all the openings and stuck her keys inside the leg pocket of her lightweight pants before heading out the door. If she forgot something, she would have to do without. It wasn’t as if she were embarking on a multiday hike along the Appalachian Trail. Anything she needed was a short drive away.

  Randi pulled down Britt’s driveway with five minutes to spare. She took the opportunity to brush her wild hair and secure it in a ponytail holder before slapping her favorite lid on top.

  Exiting her vehicle, she swung the rucksack over one shoulder. Exhilaration made her light on her feet and a strange rightness settled over her. Feelings she didn’t quite understand and didn’t have time to explore.

  Britt emerged from his cabin, wearing similar attire and gear, sans ball cap. He was gorgeous in an earthy, masculine way. A way that appealed to her so much more than slick city guys.

  After giving her an appreciative once-over, he nodded toward his truck. “Jump in.”

  She placed her rucksack on the floorboard between her legs before fastening her seatbelt. He threw his backpack in the extended cab seat behind them, where he’d already stored his antenna and tracking equipment. Realization hit.

  “Last week, when I found you near the creek, you’d just come from visiting the wolves.”

  “Guilty.”

  “Why the deception? Why not tell me about the pack then?”

  “Only those who need to know about the Steele-Shepherd pack know about them.”

  For some reason, the exclusion hurt. The logical part of her mind mocked her to get real, the elemental side screamed for acceptance—even if unearned.

  Britt pulled off the main road and drove down a narrow track. With the sun still behind the mountain, she couldn’t tell how visible the road was from the main drag.

  “Do you have trouble with others driving down this road—or whatever you call it?”

  “No. We’re on Steele property now.”

  In other words, no one messed with the Steele family.

  “It’s good you wore long sleeves and pants. Bug spray would give away our location.”

  “I hate the stuff, anyway.”

  He drew to a stop and turned off the truck. “So I noticed.”

  Heat smothered her cheeks. Well, if she’d had any doubts about him seeing her with her pants down, his comment had just obliterated that fantasy. Thank goodness he couldn’t see her reaction in the dark.

  “How long until we reach the den?”

  “About thirty minutes.” He flipped on his flashlight. “Ready?”

  It was then that Randi realized what she’d forgotten. She had pretty good night vision, but the terrain appeared rugged and no telling how much moonlight filtered through the dense canopy. She would just have to wing it.

  “Lead the way.”

  “No flashlight?”

  “With a partial moon?” She’d read an autobiography of a Delta Force operator who never used a flashlight because it ruined his night vision. Sounded good to her. “Not necessary.”

  He glanced down at his flashlight, then turned it off. “We’ll try it your way.”

  Surprised, Randi smiled, eliciting one of his render-a-female-speechless grins in return.

  The terrain was indeed challenging, though Britt managed to guide them around some of the more hazardous areas, using the precious sprays of moonlight that lit their path at different intervals. She’d expected the woods to go silent upon their arrival. However, the insects and tree frogs continued their melodic, pulsing hum without interruption. Almost as if they’d accepted them into their home.

  For a quarter hour, they said nothing. Conversation became taboo, unnecessary. They used hand signals to warn each other of danger. The only sound between them was the crunch of forest debris beneath their boots.

  Randi opened her senses in a way she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time. Beyond the deafening hum, she detected the mournful cry of a bobcat and the soulful hoot of a great horned owl. A hundred scents assaulted her nose at once—damp, loamy earth, spicy pine resin, and sweet flowering raspberry.

  Tension she’d lived with for weeks now drifted away on the gentle breeze weaving through the trees. The occasional annoying mosquito failed to diminish her enjoyment.

  She missed this. Missed the freedom, missed the thrill of discovery. Missed…her mom, her family, her old life.

  Emotion stung her nose and eyes, yet no tears fell. She would not allow nostalgia to ruin this morning’s adventure. She would absorb every minute. It could be a long time before she ventured into the sticks again.

  Britt paused, motioning her forward. Leaning close,
he whispered into her ear. “We’re not far from the den.” The humid warmth of his breath sent a shiver of awareness all the way to her toes. “Be more mindful of where you step.”

  She lifted her gaze to his, intending to nod her acknowledgment. What little light penetrated the canopy shone behind him, casting his face in shadow. Which meant hers was not.

  Three seconds of agonizing, breath-stealing stillness ticked by before he lifted a hand and smoothed the backs of two fingers down her cheek. Anticipation licked along her flesh. Randi ached to lean her body into his, longed to run her fingers over the fine hairs at the back of his neck.

  But she did none of those things, because he turned and, on soundless feet, continued down an invisible trail.

  Randi released an unsteady breath. Twice now, his touch had driven her into a state of mindless, burning need. Twice, he’d walked away as if unaffected by the contact. Twice, she’d simply watched him go, gobsmacked.

  Hefting her rucksack higher on her back, she followed as soundless as he, though the curses firing through her head could have awoken a hibernating bear. If she hadn’t feared stepping into a hole or off the edge of a bluff, she would have flame-fried his broad, retreating back with her stare.

  Finally, Britt motioned for her to slow down. He bent at the waist, shrugging out of his backpack while he inched closer to an unseen object. Randi followed suit, her eyes straining to see.

  When Britt went down on hands and knees, then slithered the last few feet military style, Randi dropped to her knees. She struggled to keep the contents of her rucksack quiet while she shuffled forward on one hand and two knees. Britt had made the maneuver look so effortless, damn him. The moment she finally belly-crawled up alongside him, she sent up a silent prayer that she hadn’t given their presence away.