Wild At Heart (Wild 2)

“I tried catching him but he wouldn’t come!” Toby hollers.

“Yeah, he hates men.” I climb off the snow machine.

“You probably shouldn’t let a goat wander around loose like that. He’s easy pickin’ for wolves and bears.”

“We don’t let him. Our raccoon keeps letting him out.” I scowl as I sidestep to avoid Zeke nipping at my coat. At least I don’t have the same visceral reaction when I see him anymore. It’s worn off, replaced by general annoyance.

Toby’s eyebrows arch. “Your raccoon?”

“Unfortunately. Be back in a minute.”

“If you unlock the door, I can put this thing inside for you,” Toby offers.

I toss him my keys and then head around back, scolding Zeke as he trots after me, a spring to his step. When the goat is safely back in his pen—for the moment—I make my way inside, happy for the warmth.

Toby is standing in our living room, his hands on his hips, taking in the relatively barren space.

I feel the stupid grin stretch over my face as I eye the coffee table he’s already set in front of the couch. It looks even better than I’d imagined. The area rug I have sitting in an online shopping cart, waiting to be ordered, will finish off the room. “Thank you so much for helping me.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He waves it off. “Man, this place looks so different.”

“That’s the goal.” In the weeks since we moved in, we’ve managed to refinish the floors on the main floor—a messy, six-day process that involved renting a sander, knee pads that didn’t completely eliminate the ache, and gallons of stain and polyurethane that, despite wearing gloves, I’m still scrubbing off my skin. But the result is worth the effort. Our dark-walnut floors bring a fresh, new feel to the space.

“I should consider shopping at the thrift store more often. Or the dump, maybe.” I toss my purse onto the kitchen counter. “Words I never thought I’d say.”

Toby laughs and two dimples appear high on his cheeks, beneath his eyes.

“Do you think I could find matching end tables there?”

He shrugs. “Never know. Ask Candace to keep an eye out.” He pauses. “Or you could see if Roy would make them for you.”

“Roy?” I frown. “As in my crotchety old neighbor with the gun and the wolf dogs Roy?”

“Yeah. He’s a carpenter by trade. Makes furniture in that big barn on his property. Probably wouldn’t be too hard for him to make something like this. It’s not complicated.”

“That’s why he was covered in sawdust,” I murmur, more to myself.

“I’ve heard he’s real good, too, but he doesn’t take custom orders. He builds what he feels like and then sells them on consignment, here and there.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” I can’t see him working well with people. “What’s his deal, anyway?” Besides hating Jonah and me.

Toby shakes his head. “That’s a nut no one’s been able to crack yet. He’s been here for years. Keeps to himself, building furniture, raising goats and chickens. Cheap as they come, too. Counts his pennies and doesn’t give out of neighborly kindness. He’s come out a few times to the town council meeting, if there’s a big vote on the agenda. Usually ends with a shouting match between him and my mother out in the parking lot. A few years back, during one of those fights, he dropped from a heart attack. We had to rush him to the hospital. He was lucky he wasn’t alone at home when that happened.” Toby smirks. “Then again, I don’t think he gets that worked up unless my mother is there to push his buttons.”

The more I hear about Toby’s mother, the more I’m curious to meet her.

“He’s always been alone out there?”

“As far as I know. My mom said he was married before he came here, but his wife took off on him. Don’t ask me why or how she found that out.”

I sigh. “Probably because he’s an asshole.”

Toby grunts with agreement. “By the way, how’re your snow machines working? My dad was asking about you the other day. We haven’t seen you since you came in for the engines.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been too freaked out to go running, even with the bear spray,” I admit sheepishly. “I keep getting this feeling when I’m outside, like something’s watching me.” I didn’t feel that eerie sense today, thankfully, but I’ve felt it more than once. “I know it sounds crazy.”

“It takes some getting used to, I guess?”

“You mean, not worrying about being chased by a bear or stalked by a wolf or trampled by a mama moose every time I go for a jog? Yeah.”