Imprints (Dominant Wolves, Submissive Mates 1)

“Seen it with my own eyes, I tell ya. The whole thing is sorta wicked if ya must know.”

“Why are you just now telling me all this?”

“I’ve been meanin’ to get around to it, but we’ve been kindly busy.”

Like hell. “So what you’re telling me is that Carla lets another pack master tie her up and use candle wax on her?”

“I never said for certain.” Grant frowned. “By the way, where did you find Carla today?”

“She was in Joy’s stall. She must’ve been trying to save that mare.”

“Can’t say that I blame her. Joy is her only friend.”

“And what are we exactly?”

“Two men who happen by here every now and again. One of these days, we’re gonna stop in for a minute and I’ll tell ya what’s gonna happen. Wanna know?”

“Not really.”

Grant waved his hand in front of his face. “Course ya don’t. I’ll tell ya anyway. We’ll knock on Carla’s door and some fella—a hair or two smarter than either one of us—will greet us. Before you know it, we’ll be staring down the wrong end of a rifle.”

“The hell you say.”

“I expect it may happen soon,” Grant said flippantly. “Besides, Carla Cassidy is famous in Wyoming. Some say she was Butch Cassidy’s wife. Still others believe she’s his little sister or cousin. A right smart amount of people stop by just to say hello out of nothin’ more than curiosity. One of these days, our Carla is gonna open up the door and greet her husband.”

About that time the old rickety front door slowly opened.

“See there, what’d I tell ya?” Grant smiled at the petite brunette emerging from the cabin. “That right there is fate showin’ her pretty little hand.”

Chapter Two

“What are you doing here?” Carla asked, propping her tiny clenched fists on her hips.

“Far be it for you to show a little appreciation,” Jock said, studying the spitfire of a woman before them. Wearing a light blue prairie dress, Carla apparently hadn’t stopped to check out the torn fabric and soiled material.

“You were attacked by a pack of wolves. I arrived in time to run them off.” Jock stood a tad taller with his announcement. Most women appreciated heroic efforts.

She paled then as he spoke. She looked down at the evidence of a ruined dress and her hands twitched.

“How did this happen?” Carla asked, suggesting her memory had failed her.

“You must’ve had a nasty bump on the head if you don’t remember,” Grant told her.

She held the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Everything is a bit foggy.”

“Well, don’t you fret none, Carla. We took care of ya.” Grant shot Jock a quick glance. “Yep, siree. Me and Jock here handled everything.”

Jock was beginning to think whenever there was a “yep, siree,” added to Grant’s speech it was nothing more than a bald-faced tale.

“Do you remember going to the barn?” Jock asked.

Carla took a minute before she answered. As if she suddenly recalled something of interest, her cheeks turned pink and she said, “I may have already been in the barn.”

Grant shot her a wink and a lopsided nod. “That was my best estimation, too.”

“Dear God,” Jock grumbled, beginning to believe Grant must’ve considered himself the most intelligent man in the West.

“Here’s how I figure things went down. Those wolves heard a lot of activity, maybe even some squealin’ and carryin’ on comin’ from the barn…” He paused and arched a brow. “How am I doin’ so far?”