Huh. I didn’t get it, but whatever. Absently, I moved out of the kitchen, which was a little outdated, but quaint with the butcher block island and farmer’s sink. I ran my hand along the back of his leather couch, peeked in the bathroom and couldn’t miss the huge shower, then stood in the bedroom doorway.
“You said Gibson’s your brother?” I asked Landry.
“That’s right,” he confirmed.
I heard his answer, but was distracted. The room had a vaulted ceiling, wood plank floors with a soft area rug, but it was the oversized bed which took up most of the space. I heated, thinking of the three of us in it. We would all fit. Better than the boulder.
I bit my lip, knowing the guys must have blue balls after earlier up in the meadow.
They were quiet, and I startled when Wade put his hand on my shoulder. “Debating?”
“What?” I asked breathlessly. I’d seen his bare chest. It was spectacular. I was eager to see more. But—
“You’re debating whether to fuck us or find those wolves, aren’t you?”
Landry moved to stand next to him. They were so big, I had to tip my chin back. My butt tingled still from the spanking, and my clit pulsed, eager for more.
“I-I…”
Landry laughed. “It either shows how into your research you are, or you doubt our abilities as lovers.”
I shook my head, afraid I’d insulted him. “No, it’s not—”
Landry stroked my hair back. “I’m kidding. Let’s go find your wolves. Then we can play.” He looked to Wade, who nodded.
“Yeah, when we get you in my bed, we don’t want you thinking about anything but us.”
Oh my.
Landry stepped back, then went to grab my backpack. “Ready?”
I took a deep breath, let it out. Was I making the right choice? Was leaving a cabin in the woods with two virile men who wanted to fuck me a stupid move?
My pussy said yes, but my mind said no.
Gah! My mind won, since they had said we’d do both. Wolves first, sex second. I brushed my hands over the front of my jeans. “Yes.”
Landry nodded. “Good. We’ll drive up to the ridge, then get out and hike for a while to see if we can spot any signs of wolves.”
We climbed into the cab of Wade’s truck. “It’s a Caitlyn sandwich.” Wade winked as he slid behind the wheel. His thigh pressed against mine on one side, Landry’s on the other.
My cheeks grew warm as my imagination took flight, picturing the other kinds of sandwiches we might make. An Eiffel Tower, maybe? When I was student teaching in Montana, I overheard a couple of very rude undergraduate boys saying they’d like to get me in an Eiffel Tower. I’d had to Google it to figure out what they’d meant. I hadn’t liked the idea with them, but with these two?
A low rumble sounded from Landry’s chest. “Whatever you’re thinking about, you’d better stop, or we’re going to cut this wolf-hunting expedition short and take you back to Wade’s bedroom.”
I choked on my breath. “How did you know what I was thinking?” I demanded.
Both men chuckled, but didn’t answer.
As we drove along the back road, I steered my mind away from sexy times and over to what Landry had said about wolves with trackers being killed. It was true, I had lost a couple of the wolves I’d been tracking last year, but I didn’t know why or how. Trackers could go dead. Animals could die of natural causes. There were areas of Wyoming where wolves were considered trophy game animals and could be hunted with a license, but the area Landry had mentioned wasn’t one of them.
It bothered me that any wolves had been killed. The fact that they had trackers was probably a coincidence, but I didn’t like it. Especially if their deaths were the result of ranchers who didn’t want to learn about the animals’ beauty and value to the American West.
Maybe that was why there were all the frequent calls about wolves to the various wildlife agencies. The ranchers were trying to entice the scientific community into proving there were too many by calling in every single sighting. Then again, Landry and Wade agreed that there were wolves in the area—even taking me now to go find some—so the sightings were probably real.
Tracking wolves wasn’t easy. It took a lot of patience, and the ability to put oneself in the predator’s shoes… er, paws. Plus, I had to learn to shoot a gun—just a tranq gun, of course—which was not a skill I’d ever thought I’d need back when I was getting that undergraduate biology degree. I had to admit, I was glad the guys were with me. The direction we were headed was nowhere near where they’d found me. I’d have spent my entire day searching in the wrong place.