Rough (Wolf Ranch 1)

“How are you doing, kid? Can you walk yet?”

James nodded and climbed up, wrapping the blanket around his waist. Boyd was right. He seemed to be improving by the minute. His color was already returning. My medical mind reeled from what I’d just witnessed. He’d been shot, as a wolf, fell off the side of a cliff, almost drowned and was now standing. Impossible. But it was right in front of me.

Boyd helped me to stand. “Go and get in my truck,” he ordered James. “Follow the path, and you’ll see it. Try to run off, and I’ll hunt your ass down.”

After the young man started away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Boyd slid an arm around my waist and pulled me against his wet body. He brushed back my hair and pushed my glasses up my nose for me. “You sure you’re okay? Not freaked out?”

“Definitely freaked. Um, it’s a lot to process. I… I guess I like it,” I admitted, which sounded dumb. But it seemed like the missing piece to understanding Boyd just fell into place. He was too perfect before. Too good looking. Too strong. Too charming. I felt I couldn’t trust him, like something wasn’t real. Now it made sense why he was such a spectacular specimen of a male. How he could ride bulls for so many years without breaking his neck. How he could walk away from such a terrible goring. It made it easier to believe what he said, even about his interest in me. About how he knew from the first that I was the one.

He wasn’t just looking at me as a man, but as a wolf, too.

I pushed up his wet shirt and ripped off the bandage covering the place he was gored by the bull. Nothing! Not even a mark. I traced my fingertip over it, in awe. Boyd Wolf was something special. And I felt honored to know his secret.

Boyd’s face broke into a smile. “Yeah? You like it?”

I nodded. “I have a lot of questions. A lot. But I want to see your wolf.”

Boyd cupped the side of my face with one hand and traced my lips with his thumb. “I’ll show you, darlin’. Any time you want. And I’ll answer all your questions later. I promise.”

I tipped my head toward the truck. “How soon will he heal fully?”

“Oh, shortly. A teen in perfect health? It’ll just be a mark tomorrow. And then nothing by the next day. His pride’s probably hurt worse. Come on, I’d better get him to Rob.”

I frowned. “Rob, your brother?”

“Yep. As you can guess, he’s a wolf, too. All of us at the ranch. Rob, he’s the pack alpha. My dad before him. James is going to have to answer to him for this.”

I had a lot to take in. And I wanted to know all of it. I was thrilled by it all. Definitely excited. And titillated. Awed. Confused. Intrigued.

We walked back to the truck in silence, then climbed into the front seat. James was in the back—the truck was a huge four door behemoth. I couldn’t help checking in with my patient again, even though I knew he had to be fine if he walked all the way from the waterfall. Boyd had been worried about him when he’d been unconscious, but his concern slipped away once I cleared his lungs. I had to believe Boyd wouldn’t be so relaxed if James’ life was still in danger. “You feeling okay? Any dizziness, nausea, anything else I should know about?”

“He’s fine,” Boyd assured me. “James, this is Dr. Ames. You be respectful with her or you’ll have even more to answer for.”

The young man nodded in awkward agreement. “It hurts, ma’am, but I’ll be okay.”

Boyd nodded, clearly satisfied with the answer, started the truck and pulled out. It seemed that teen boys were stupid over girls, wolf or human.

“Did you actually tell Jett Markle he shot your dog?” I asked, laughter bubbling up now that the major crisis was past.

“I did,” Boyd chuckled. “And then I took his shotgun and bent the barrel, so it’s unusable. What an asshole. I mean, aside from shooting a wolf, which of course, I take very personally, he’d have ridden his horse by my truck to get above the waterfall, meaning he knew there were people around. And he still fired? I seriously should’ve shoved that shotgun up his ass instead of just giving him a black eye.”

He bent the barrel of a shotgun?

“I thought no one lived on that property right now,” James spoke up from the back seat. “I mean, Shefield died, right?”

“That’s no excuse for you running around in wolf form in broad daylight,” Boyd said sternly. “But yes, Shefield died. I don’t know, Markle says he’s buying it, so maybe he thinks it’s already his, but I’ll be damned if I’d let that happen. I gotta figure out if he’s full of shit or not, and what I can do to stop it.”