Feral (Wolf Ranch 3)

5

WILLOW

Mother. Fucker.

I’d just stripped out of my clothes to take a shower after my date with Markle, and the asshole was knocking on my door again. Seriously? I didn’t play up the yawning and I’m-so-tired thing at the end of the date enough? I even let the asshole have a kiss before he left me at the door. Denying him that would have hurt my investigation. But even on assignment, I needed to clock out. Sure, I was pretending to be Natalie Shefield, but it was harder pretending to like Jett Markle.

The date had gone fine. I didn’t learn much about him of importance, even though he barely shut up the entire time. He had nine hundred acres and planned to build a stable to stud horses. He’d also just purchased a bull to inseminate his cows. When he’d said that, he’d raised a brow, as if he wondered if I needed to be inseminated. By him.

I learned about cattle and the solar panels he’d installed. I’d asked after his time in New York, hoping to learn more about his job and how he no longer had it, but all I’d gotten was a lesson in bond trading.

It had been painful, but it was a start. Maybe I’d smiled and feigned more interest than his previous dates because he’d definitely thought he was going to score.

Now it seemed he didn’t know when to stop.

I debated putting my clothes back on, but he wasn’t staying long, barely long enough to tell him I had a headache and was just about to wash my hair then shut the door in his face. I threw on my short silky robe and tied it at my waist. Just to be safe, I grabbed my Glock and carried it downstairs, tucking it under a basket by the front door before I swung it open, a slight scowl in place.

And my nipples went hard as diamond points.

Rob Wolf. At my door. Wearing a furious scowl of his own.

“Well. You have a habit of showing up at the worst times,” I told him. Although the truth was, after a date with Markle, Rob’s large real cowboy form was a delicious sight. As attested to by my nips.

“You armed?”

Those two words gave me goosebumps. Yes, it was ridiculous, but the deep timbre of his voice set me off. I glanced down at myself. “Where would I hide a weapon?”

“You had on a towel earlier,” he countered, his gaze raking down my body.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “No gun on me.”

He understood what I didn’t say and looked around for a weapon. Smart man.

He took off his hat, which showed his dark hair was long on top with a curl to it. A little wild, just like him. His scowl grew deeper, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell me you didn’t just kiss Jett Markle on this porch,” he demanded.

I narrowed my eyes. “Tell me what business it is of yours.”

“Fuck.” He clenched his jaw like he was grinding his back teeth. I seriously didn’t know what his problem was, but he definitely was wound up. “You—” he spluttered then stopped, like he had no idea what to say next. “You have a gun, that’s good.” He paced a step on the porch then pivoted, like he was trying to work something out. The summer sun had just set, but I could still see him clearly. “I’m sure you think you can take care of yourself, but, dammit, Natalie, that man is trouble.” He lifted his eyes to mine, and they were burning with conflict.

Aw.

I shouldn’t have been so touched by his concern. Of course, he was probably over here because he’d thought he was going to be the guy getting into my pants. Now he was pissed it was Markle.

Although he did seem genuinely distressed for my safety, not just butt-hurt. Yeah, he’d burst into my house and into my bedroom, but he’d heard me scream. And now he was on my doorstep again—this time he knocked—because he thought I was… what, in danger?

Maybe he knew something about Markle.

Dammit. Now I wished I had gotten dressed because I couldn’t exactly invite him in wearing my robe. The last time we’d met I’d been in a towel. This was getting ridiculous.

I leaned my hip against the doorframe. “Trouble how?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

Rob shook his head with frustration. “The bad kind.” His nostrils flared like he could smell Markle’s cloying cologne on my skin, and he frowned deeper. But that was impossible. Sure, I could smell it on my face because the guy had kissed me, but I’d taken off the clothes that carried the scent. His cologne alone made me hate the guy.

“He shot my dog,” Rob blurted, like his mind had just arrived on evidence of Markle’s evil. “When you wouldn’t sell, he cut your fence and let his cattle in to graze on your land anyway. You heard all that from my brother, Boyd. Believe me, if he’s showing interest in you now, it’s only because he’s gonna look for some angle to not only screw you but screw you out of what belongs to you.”