Reaching For Normal Page 3

  Finally, Sawyer turned and marched to the shed and she didn’t work too hard to decipher the mutters floating back on the wind. She bit her lip to hide her smile, fearing that might be the last straw and he’d cancel the lesson.

  Sawyer moved with grace and purpose. Fluid strength. Economical readiness. He had to be former military. Strong. Solitary. Shielded.

  Myla had worked with several soldiers on a variety of stories and she wondered what had made Sawyer so closed off, so careful. Whatever it was, it would be more than she could handle. Probably made being abandoned in a dumpster at birth look pretty tame.

  Made her want to reach out to him but she was the last person who should be offering advice on how to be a balanced and emotionally stable human being.

  The dogs followed Sawyer but didn’t go inside. Instead, they curled into balls beside the open door at the front of the shed. Myla took a few steps inside before coming to a halt, mouth agape. It was almost as crowded as Quinn’s store where she’d gotten her Winter Virgin discount. Which still made her smile.

  Shelves covered every wall of Sawyer’s shed. Racks held skis, poles, snowshoes, fishing rods, paddles, and some things she couldn’t identify. Kayaks and canoes were stored in the rafters. The floor space was taken up with ATVs, snowmachines, and toolboxes. Lots of toolboxes.

  Two wood stoves stood opposite each other on the side walls but neither was working at the moment. Along the back, a section of the room had been closed off to create a smaller room. Office or bedroom. Possibly a bathroom. Although without any electricity, she doubted there would be plumbing, making her glad she’d only had half a cup of Darby’s coffee this morning.

  The space gave her further insight into the man. Organized. Prepared for anything. Took his sports and his equipment seriously. What she saw probably reflected his entire life. She suspected he was controlled in every aspect of his world.

  With the dogs outside and the interior dimly lit by the cloudy sky, the building was strangely intimate, especially when Sawyer turned and waved her over.

  Myla forced her writer’s brain into action. She hadn’t done any research before the assignment, wouldn’t have even if her editor had given her more warning.

  Through experience, she’d discovered her writing was more successful if she approached every adventure as a newbie, learning right along with her audience. Now, she needed to analyze the things she would learn, not Sawyer’s reactions and certainly not his psyche. Focus.

  Attempting to ignore her ridiculous response to this man, Myla studied the different kinds of snowshoes hanging from the wall. Three distinct styles in all kinds of sizes. The variety was surprising and she wanted to take pictures of the wall to use in the article but she didn’t think Sawyer would approve. The man hadn’t so much as smiled and she wasn’t about to ask any favors from him.

  If she did ask favors, they certainly wouldn’t be about taking pictures of snowshoes.

  Clumsy Girl Loses Her Mind. To Lust.

  “Which would you like to use for the lesson?”

  Myla clamped her lips together as she ruthlessly cut off thoughts of the lessons she’d really like to ask of him.

  Snowshoes. Think about the snowshoes. The largest ones were wooden and shaped like teardrops. The second were almost circular and much smaller. The final ones were rectangular tubes made out of some kind of metal. “Those look the easiest.”

  Sawyer’s eyes didn’t give away much, as he slipped into instructor mode. “They are.” He pointed at the teardrops. “These are the traditional style. They’re the largest and heaviest. The aluminum ones are more modern. They come in a variety of styles, modified for different types of terrain. Some are designed for jogging, others for climbing. They’re light and maneuverable. The round ones are bear paws. They’re popular with beginners and kids.” His eyes raked the length of her legs.

  Cataloging her weaknesses. Too short. Too inexperienced. Time to show Mr. Winter she wasn’t a wimp. “I’d like to try the traditional ones first.”

  A raised eyebrow was his only reaction as he asked for her shoe size and selected two pairs. She followed him outside to a small clearing next to the shed. He squatted beside her and lifted the snowshoe. “These straps here fit over your boots and will keep your foot in place while allowing you semi-normal use of your foot, although you’ll still walk like a penguin.” His grin startled her both with its appearance and its power. A grin like that could turn bones to mush at a hundred yards. “Let’s get your strong foot in first. That’ll let your left one take your weight without the added complication of the snowshoe.”

  Everything in Myla froze. He knew about her foot. She hadn’t said a word to a soul. She never did. In the whole world, only a handful of people knew about her weak leg and none of them knew anything about her trip to Vermont. But, he knew.

  When she didn’t immediately respond to his words, Sawyer looked up, a question in his eyes. “Ready?”

  She held his gaze for a long moment before deciding she didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to bring her weakness out into the open. He watched her without emotion. No pity or disgust. Some curiosity. And patience. She’d bet he could out-wait those moose statues in town.

  When she nodded, he turned his attention back to her feet. Myla drew in a deep breath. She’d wanted Sawyer to see her as a whole person but he’d spotted her weakness anyway. The sexy fantasies she’d been weaving around him fizzled away.

  For once, she’d like a sexy man to see her and light up. Maybe have some fantasies of his own about her. Her subconscious tried to shout at her that she’d need to stay in one place longer than a couple of weeks at a time if she wanted a relationship but she shut it down.

  Staying in one place required so many risks. People rarely wanted to keep her around and it was smarter to be the one to leave than be the one who was left.

  And it was past time to cut the pity party.

  In her articles, Myla experienced the adventures like everyone else. No one needed to know that BMX biking and rock climbing were incredibly challenging when one side of your body was weaker than the other. They only wanted to know what it would take for them to bike and climb, experience the thrill vicariously.

  In her blog, she was anonymous. That’s where her audience got to laugh along with Clumsy Girl’s less-than-expert attempts. They’d loved her tales of face-planting while waterskiing, where she’d skipped like a stone across a pond. Only with more bruises.

  Every new adventure brought new hope that she could fit in for a few weeks at a time. Never had her leg been identified so early. So easily. With an effort, Myla managed to focus in on Sawyer’s words as he finished tying her straps and stood.

  “Start slow. Get the feel of the way your legs have to work. Don’t shuffle, make sure you lift your heels.” The man’s voice could soothe hungry alligators. He exuded confidence and she let it fill her as she started to move. Two steps in, the giggles started. Arms out to the side like Godzilla on a tightrope. A sexy image sure to keep her guide up at night.

  Oblivious to her thoughts, Sawyer followed alongside her, reaching out to steady her when she wobbled. His soft touches and occasional words had her adapting quickly and wondering about another facet of the man.

  After a couple of minutes, he pronounced her steady enough for an excursion through the woods and gestured to the non-trampled snow under the trees.

  “There aren’t any paths, so the fresh powder will make it a little trickier but following in my footsteps will help. Don’t panic when you sink a little, you won’t go far.” His gaze flickered to her feet and he pursed his lips. “Keep lifting those heels. Shuffling will cause you nothing but headaches.”

  He waited until she nodded, then turned and strode off, leaving her to follow at about half the speed and a hundredth the grace. The snoozing dogs leapt to their feet and bounded off into the snow, making her appear even more inept. When the huskies circled back to walk with her for a while, she wondered if they sensed her u
nease.

  Gunner, the steadier of the two huskies, sent her encouraging looks, while the appropriately-named Loco hopped in front of her, making her laugh even while she windmilled her arms to keep upright.

  Sawyer checked over his shoulder then whistled. Loco bounced to the side, then circled Sawyer, nipping at the snowshoes like they were covered in doggie treats. The man didn’t slow down or lose his balance for a moment.

  Splitting her attention between her precarious footwork and watching Sawyer’s loping stride became easier. He wasn’t wearing puffball pants like hers, so the view was a great reward for stepping securely.

  As they walked, Myla tried to engage Sawyer in conversation but his one-word answers and shrugs had her chatting with Gunner instead. At least the husky panted in response and she didn’t have to stretch her voice in the cold.

  When her knee started to ache from the awkward motion, Sawyer broke into a clearing and stopped walking. “We’ll take a break for a few minutes.” He pulled a pair of water bottles out of the pack he wore and handed her one.

  She took it gratefully and pulled down the scarf she’d worn over her mouth to take a sip. The cold water tasted great but shocked her core on the way down. “Thanks.” The words sent more cold air through her system, making her lips tingle and she tugged the scarf back up, glad she’d let Quinn convince her it was a necessity.

  The clearing resembled a scene from a fairy tale. Puffs of snow marched along the barren branches and contrasted beautifully with the deep greens of the pines. Clean, crisp, and surprising.

  Myla had spent time in forests in several states but never in the winter. The absolute quiet surprised her. The snow softened the noise, muting their steps and the swishes of their clothing. Obviously, much of the wildlife was either hibernating or had flown south but those that remained moved stealthily so as not to disturb the quiet.

  She wondered if a shout would reverberate through the woods or if the snow would absorb it and make it fade away. So many things to know and discover. Despite her protesting muscles, Myla wanted to keep exploring, find out if the snow on the branches was crusty like the snow on the ground. See if she could spot the tracks of a rabbit or a fox beneath the trees.

  Her scarf filtered the air, warming it before it entered her mouth and nose, mixing the wool with the pine, fir, and the clean smell of snow. Not really a scent. Not something she could easily identify but something she knew she’d never fail to recognize.

  As she was about to ask how much farther they were walking, both dogs’ heads turned to the far side of the clearing and identical growls rose from their throats.

  Despite the sweat she’d worked up inside her warm clothes, chills raced along her spine. Sawyer murmured an instruction and the dogs quieted but remained on high alert. Legs stiff, noses high and quivering, ears forward. Focused.

  Myla lifted her foot to move toward Sawyer but he shot her a look that shut down the movement as effectively as the command had stopped the dogs. A nervous giggle started deep in her chest but she clamped her lips together, wondering what could put three alpha creatures on such high alert.

  Whatever it was, she hoped it stayed far, far away. Knowing her phone was on silent, Myla slipped it out of her pocket and opened the camera to snap a picture of the dogs. Everything about them screamed, Danger! and focusing on the photos helped stop her from fleeing into the forest.

  Through the lens, she surveyed the surrounding trees but saw nothing scarier than snow-laden branches, ready to dump their loads on unsuspecting passersby. She snapped a few pictures, forcing herself to look for views rather than abominable snowmen.

  A howl broke the silence, similar to the howls she’d heard from Sawyer’s dogs but different enough to have her heart racing. More powerful. Visceral. And far too close.

  Panic raced through her. She’d never be able to move quickly enough in the snowshoes. At the best of times, her high speed was more stroll than run. Her leg would put Sawyer in danger.

  All the fairy tales raced through her mind. Even the pigs had houses for protection. The dogs wouldn’t stand a chance against wolves. She knew Sawyer would try to protect her. It would be up to her to not let him get hurt because of her weakness.

  Her hands shook, so she slipped her useless phone back into her pocket. They weren’t even in cell phone coverage range. She doubted they could even use the GPS thingy to find their bones.

  When the shaking extended to her knees, she must have made some kind of sound, because Sawyer pulled his attention from the trees and aimed it at her. The intensity of his gaze had her feet yearning to run for the safety of his arms and she was sure her face was broadcasting those very thoughts.

  The blanket of nothingness cloaking his eyes had dropped but instead of fear or even nerves, she saw interest. Curiosity.

  Aimed at the wolves.

  The crazy man was enthralled by wolf howls. How was she supposed to save a nutcase?

  Another howl sounded and his eyes lit up. Totally nuts.

  She opened her mouth to speak but he motioned at her to be quiet. Grinned as he hushed her.

  Straight out of the box Cracker Jacks crazy.

  Gunner whimpered and turned to them. Excitement rippled through the husky as well.

  At least she’d bought the right colored jacket.

  Wolf: 1, Clumsy Girl Riding Hood: 0.

  SAWYER wanted to follow the howls. For the first time, the wolves were close enough to track and he was stuck with a client. A shaking-in-her-brand-new-boots client.

  The wolves were too close to civilization. He needed to know if they’d set up a den nearby or if they were merely visiting the area. No one from Bloo Moose would harm the wolves deliberately but tourists were always a risk. They wouldn’t necessarily understand the reintegration program. He’d have to figure out how to resettle the animals if they’d holed up nearby. The fresh snow would help, having the dogs around would mask his scent.

  Only one problem. A terrified Myla.

  City Girl had no idea how exciting this was. Or how important. He had to convince her to not freak out and blow his chances. Two decades ago, Sawyer’s dad had spearheaded the program in Vermont. Ensuring the wolves built a viable population had become more than a casual interest. It connected him to the dad he’d lost more than ten years before.

  Sawyer identified—maybe a little too closely—with these animals that had been hunted almost to extinction. If they could make it maybe he had a chance of finding a place amongst his own kind one day as well. At the moment, it all seemed like a hell of a long shot.

  Gunner squirmed. The poor guy was having a devil of a time not responding to the part of his blood that matched his buddies out there.

  Two? Maybe more.

  Myla appeared to be searching the clearing for either a means of escape or a place to hide. He mouthed the word, “Relax,” at her but she widened her eyes as if he’d told her to strip naked and make snow angels.

  Shit. Not an image he needed burned in his brain.

  Knowing the wind was blowing the wrong way and knowing he didn’t have a choice, Sawyer edged closer to her position. She waited quietly, eyes flicking between him and the woods where the wolves waited.

  When he was near enough, she whispered. “You have to run. I’m too slow but you could boost me into a tree. They can’t climb trees, can they?”

  He couldn’t decide whether to be pissed or impressed. Pissed, definitely pissed. “If there was a threat to your safety, do you seriously think I’d leave you and save my own ass?”

  She shook her head sharply. “You’d come back with the snowmachine. The noise would scare them away, wouldn’t it?”

  “Are you nuts?”

  She waved that away. “I’d slow you down if we both try to run. You might get hurt. This way, we’d both be safe.”

  Terrifyingly sensible. What the hell kind of life had she lived that she was so sure he would leave her alone with what she considered killer animals?

 
Sawyer cut off her whispered plans by taking her arms in his hands. Her eyes widened further, probably reacting to the zip that ran over his skin whenever they touched. It was like an elemental force and he knew she had to feel it, too.

  “Listen. There’s no danger.” He ignored her snort. “You’re perfectly safe. Wolves aren’t dangerous unless attacked. Why would you think I’d abandon you if they were vicious? What kind of man do you think I am?” When she started to respond, he squeezed her arms. “We’ll discuss that later. For now, just stay here. I need to track the wolves.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What? Why? Are you crazy?”

  Sawyer rubbed his hands up and down her arms and she clamped her lips together. She was trying so damn hard not to be terrified. “I’m not crazy. There’s zero danger here, Myla. I’d never leave you if that wasn’t true.”

  A shudder ran through her at his words making him wonder again what she’d been through. “The wolves aren’t going to hang around long. I want to catch a glimpse of them, make sure they’re safe. Will you stay here, right here, until I get back? I won’t be long. Twenty minutes tops. It’s completely safe. It’ll give you time to rest up that leg before we head back.”

  Myla flickered her eyes to the woods, to the dogs, to him and around again. Inside her mitts, her hands fisted and released. He forced himself to wait her out when he wanted to leave her behind and move.

  After too many seconds when he could feel the wolves loping away, she nodded sharply. “Fine. Go.”

  Relief flooded him, along with a touch of admiration. He’d seen a lot of bravery as a SEAL but this ranked up there. She truly believed he was abandoning her to ravaging wolves but she told him to go. Because he’d asked. He couldn’t decide if he should comfort her, laugh at her fears, tell her she was amazing, or walk away.

  Her lips parted, either to tell him how she was planning on saving him this time or to tell him to hurry the hell up but before he realized his own intention, he lowered his head. When their lips were a whisper apart, he managed to stop. Just in time. Holy hell, that would have been a mistake.