The Snow Leopard's Mate (Glacier Leopards 1)

“I don’t like it here much, either,” he said suddenly, as the lights receded behind them a

nd they were surrounded by forest. “Scenery excepted.”

She looked over in surprise. “You don’t?”

“I used to work as a park ranger. There was a lot of time out on my own, learning the land, making sure it was clean and that no one was in trouble. I liked that.”

She thought about that. “That doesn’t sound anything like logging.” Logging, from what she understood, was the definition of dirty and troublesome.

“It isn’t. I’m hoping to get another ranger job soon. Working with these guys—” He paused. “I’m a bit of a loner, that’s all. I’m not great at making friends.”

That made sense. He seemed quiet, a thinker rather than a talker. She could picture how the rowdy crowd at the bar dealt with someone who wasn’t one of the guys, with all the dumb macho stuff that that implied.

“Believe me,” she said, heartfelt, “I understand that.” She didn’t have many friends either. Denise was pretty much it, and she was just a holdover from high school. They never talked about anything serious.

He slid a look over at her. “Have you thought about moving out somewhere on your own?”

He hadn’t said, I bet a girl like you has lots of friends, or You’re way too pretty to be a loner.

He was listening to her. Men hardly ever listened to her when she talked. She’d gotten so used to it that it was a shock to meet one who did.

“I’ve thought about it. But I’d need to get a job. Part-time waitressing doesn’t make enough to throw it all away and start over new somewhere else.” She smiled a little. “If I win the lottery, that’s another story.”

She knew she was painting herself as a real catch. Lives with her brother, works a dead-end part-time job, doesn’t like her hometown much, and can’t do anything about any of it. But it was the truth. She wasn’t going to lie about her life.

Her mother used to say, “Alethia means ‘truth.’ Doesn’t matter if you tell the truth or not, the truth is in you—so you might as well let it out.”

Letting it out hadn’t served her well so far, but it was how she was, and of all the things she wanted to change, that wasn’t one of them.

“I get it,” Grey was saying. “If I had a million dollars, you can bet I wouldn’t be logging for a living. I’d be living out somewhere far away from civilization, where no one was logging and nothing was around for miles but nature.”

Ali sighed at the thought. “If you get a million dollars from somewhere, take me with you?”

There was a pause that felt like it lasted a year. Of course. She’d broken rule number one: don’t make it sound like you were fishing for something permanent. Anything that smacked of commitment would drive men to the hills as fast as they could run.

But after that long, long minute, Grey gave a low, husky laugh and said, “It’s a deal.”

Ali savored the warm, happy feeling rising in her chest. It was just a fantasy, obviously, but the thought that she could share the fantasy with this man right here—it seemed to fill some emptiness inside of her.

They were both quiet for a while after that, watching the forest roll by in the truck’s headlights. Ali caught a glimpse of an owl at one point, and wondered how many other animals were out of sight in the trees lining the road.

***

Grey kept stealing glances at the woman in the passenger seat of his truck.

She didn’t notice, because she was watching the forest, rapt with focused attention. When she noticed something, her lips would part and she’d lean forward a little, the seatbelt pressing against her breasts in a way that showed how generous they were.

Alethia Parker was possibly the most attractive woman Grey had ever met.

He couldn’t stop looking at her, which might turn out to be a problem if they kept driving through dark, unlit forest roads like this. But there was no way to stop. He was captivated by the way her dark hair fell softly around her shoulders, the way her eyes sparkled when she felt strongly about something, the way her curves teased the eye and led him to think about what they might look like without so much clothing in the way…

But not tonight. He’d met her when she was literally running away from an asshole. She probably didn’t want any man making advances right now. And he wasn’t going to lay a finger on her unless she wanted it. He wouldn’t even suggest that laying a finger might be a good idea, unless she thought it was too.

Even though he longed to touch her, he was fine if nothing but talk happened tonight. He wanted to get to know Alethia as a person. She was sassy and smart. He could tell that she wasn’t afraid to tell anyone off if she thought they deserved it. But she had this quiet side to her, too. He’d already talked more to her about his own life than he’d intended to, because she’d listened to everything he’d said with a thoughtfulness he’d rarely encountered.

And he wanted to keep talking to her, which hardly ever happened. Grey’d always had problems talking to anyone, but especially women, where he tended to trip over his tongue or dry up entirely, not sure what they wanted him to say. Compliments were a fair bet, but women could tell when you were doing it on purpose.

He remembered holding Alethia’s hand earlier that night, and noticing the shimmering pink of her fingernails, looking like they were lit from within. That’s a pretty color, he’d said without thinking. It had been worlds away from his usual careful look at a woman’s hair and clothes and features to try and figure out what she might like to hear.