Read Online Wolf on Board (Wolves of Willow Bend Book 14) by Heather Long - Free Book Online
Authors: Heather Long
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would appreciate the compliment.
Her mouth opened then snapped shut, then opened again as though she were at a loss for words. Finally, she jerked back to the grill and removed the vegetable skewers.
“Can’t take a compliment, sweetheart?” In for a penny, might as well go for the whole pound.
“I can take compliments just fine.” She shut the grill lid and carried the platter toward the house. “Please grab my beer and follow me.”
He thought she would never ask. Leaping down, he snagged her beer and trailed after her. A spicy mix of eucalyptus, citrus, incense and warm amber greeted him. The French doors opened into a living room with blond wooden floors, polished and warm beneath the sun. A heavy, thatched rug occupied the center of the room with the furniture arrayed around it. Even as he followed her toward the kitchen, he studied the layout and colors—and the stack of books next to the sofa. Most were textbooks or how to’s of some kind.
A corner of the living room had been transformed by a tarp on the floor. An easel propped with a half completed canvas occupied the center of it. Torn between the food and his curiosity, he gave into the second and prowled over to see what she worked on.
Hints of oil paint mixed with linseed and citrus tickled his nose. He would have expected it to smell worse, but it couldn’t compete with the savory dinner Mimi prepared. The painting on the canvas seemed incomplete, and the paint remained somewhat damp. Surprising, because he hadn’t seen her work on it for even an instant. Behind the painting, he looked out the windows toward the ocean rolling in, then back to the canvas again.
The water beckoned to him in both. She’d achieved the sensation of wave movement. The water crested into white foamy caps as it closed on the shore, and the ocean extended off into the horizon. It was almost perfect, yet…
“It’s missing something,” Mimi said from his right side. How she’d closed the distance between them without him even noticing baffled him. If not for an utter lack of worry where she was concerned—another source of confusion—he might have jumped out of his skin.
Taking a slow breath, he did his best to calm the racing of his heart. “I like what you’ve done with the waves. The ocean is alive.” The rising tide, the promise of a storm in the distance… Still, he had to admit she was right. It was missing something.
“I wanted to add more to the beach.” She touched a finger to a blank area of canvas. “But every time I go to paint in the rocks and the sand, it just doesn’t come out.”
Maybe because the water held a promise of tempestuous currents? The beach was where all that power ended, slammed onto its shores. “Have you gone out on the ocean yet?”
“No,” she said, skepticism rifling the word. “Food is ready. We should eat.” She tapped his arm once. He pivoted, half-watching her stride to her little kitchen where the tempting steak and vegetables beckoned. Still, something in her unfinished painting refused to let him go.
“You should go out on the water,” he told her, finally pulling himself away and trailing her over to the half-bar which separated the kitchen from the living room. Setting her beer on the bar, he drained the rest of his before continuing. “I could take you. I surf.”
“I remember. You dripped all over me.” She loaded a plate with meat, vegetable skewers, and fresh bread before sliding it over to him. “Do you want another beer?”
Warning bells went off in his head. She had an encounter with a strange wolf. Then she invited him to her place. Now she’d prepared him a meal. Why did it feel like he’d just walked into a trap? A part of him waited for the snap of the cage door slapping closed. “Sure and, not that I’m complaining, but…” He accepted the beer she proffered then set it next to the plate. “What are we doing here?”
She raised an eyebrow as she filled her own plate. “I’ve
Her mouth opened then snapped shut, then opened again as though she were at a loss for words. Finally, she jerked back to the grill and removed the vegetable skewers.
“Can’t take a compliment, sweetheart?” In for a penny, might as well go for the whole pound.
“I can take compliments just fine.” She shut the grill lid and carried the platter toward the house. “Please grab my beer and follow me.”
He thought she would never ask. Leaping down, he snagged her beer and trailed after her. A spicy mix of eucalyptus, citrus, incense and warm amber greeted him. The French doors opened into a living room with blond wooden floors, polished and warm beneath the sun. A heavy, thatched rug occupied the center of the room with the furniture arrayed around it. Even as he followed her toward the kitchen, he studied the layout and colors—and the stack of books next to the sofa. Most were textbooks or how to’s of some kind.
A corner of the living room had been transformed by a tarp on the floor. An easel propped with a half completed canvas occupied the center of it. Torn between the food and his curiosity, he gave into the second and prowled over to see what she worked on.
Hints of oil paint mixed with linseed and citrus tickled his nose. He would have expected it to smell worse, but it couldn’t compete with the savory dinner Mimi prepared. The painting on the canvas seemed incomplete, and the paint remained somewhat damp. Surprising, because he hadn’t seen her work on it for even an instant. Behind the painting, he looked out the windows toward the ocean rolling in, then back to the canvas again.
The water beckoned to him in both. She’d achieved the sensation of wave movement. The water crested into white foamy caps as it closed on the shore, and the ocean extended off into the horizon. It was almost perfect, yet…
“It’s missing something,” Mimi said from his right side. How she’d closed the distance between them without him even noticing baffled him. If not for an utter lack of worry where she was concerned—another source of confusion—he might have jumped out of his skin.
Taking a slow breath, he did his best to calm the racing of his heart. “I like what you’ve done with the waves. The ocean is alive.” The rising tide, the promise of a storm in the distance… Still, he had to admit she was right. It was missing something.
“I wanted to add more to the beach.” She touched a finger to a blank area of canvas. “But every time I go to paint in the rocks and the sand, it just doesn’t come out.”
Maybe because the water held a promise of tempestuous currents? The beach was where all that power ended, slammed onto its shores. “Have you gone out on the ocean yet?”
“No,” she said, skepticism rifling the word. “Food is ready. We should eat.” She tapped his arm once. He pivoted, half-watching her stride to her little kitchen where the tempting steak and vegetables beckoned. Still, something in her unfinished painting refused to let him go.
“You should go out on the water,” he told her, finally pulling himself away and trailing her over to the half-bar which separated the kitchen from the living room. Setting her beer on the bar, he drained the rest of his before continuing. “I could take you. I surf.”
“I remember. You dripped all over me.” She loaded a plate with meat, vegetable skewers, and fresh bread before sliding it over to him. “Do you want another beer?”
Warning bells went off in his head. She had an encounter with a strange wolf. Then she invited him to her place. Now she’d prepared him a meal. Why did it feel like he’d just walked into a trap? A part of him waited for the snap of the cage door slapping closed. “Sure and, not that I’m complaining, but…” He accepted the beer she proffered then set it next to the plate. “What are we doing here?”
She raised an eyebrow as she filled her own plate. “I’ve
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