Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“And you care what Jon has to say?” Because from what Annie has told me during my regular check-ins, their interactions have been lukewarm.
“He’s already on my back about making mistakes I didn’t make. Plus, if it means you’re riding with me, then yeah, I’ll listen to him all day long.” Even hidden within his helmet, I can see the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile. “Come on. It’ll be like old times.”
“I remember falling off the back of one of these in the old times.” We weren’t going fast, thankfully.
“That was a solo rider. This one’s meant for you. It’s got a seat and everything.” He pats the passenger spot. “I won’t let you fall off.”
My pulse races as I close in, my body acutely aware of his size and presence. “I’m not bringing the rifle. Obviously.” I hold out my empty hands.
“Good, ’cause I’m not up for watching things die today. They’re just doing what wolves do.” Logan climbs into the driver’s seat, his powerful thighs straddling the machine.
This is fine. You can’t get yourself into trouble out there, I remind myself. I’m wearing three layers, and there is nothing remotely sexy about tracking wild animals and mending fences in frigid temperatures.
With a heavy sigh of resignation, I mutter, “Are you even allowed to drive this with a G1 license?”
He barks with laughter. “Shut up.”
“It’s a serious question,” I tease.
“Do you wanna drive?” he counters, gesturing at the handlebars.
“No thanks.”
“You sure?” He pauses. “I don’t mind you taking control.”
The offer is dripping with sexual innuendo—or maybe that’s where my starved mind is going as vivid memories from our night together months ago still play daily. “Give me the damn helmet.” I affix it and then, using his broad shoulder for balance, climb into my seat. “What’d you want to tell me about? You said something about a run-in?”
“Later. Not here.” He peers over his shoulder, allowing me a moment to admire his hazel eyes before he flips his visor down. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I grip the passenger handles.
He starts the engine and pulls away.
Routes around the Landrys’ ranch are already mapped by snowmobile tracks that follow the various fence lines. Logan chooses the path farthest from the roaming herd, driving slowly and stopping to open a gate here and there.
The journey to the back of their expansive property takes about twenty-five minutes and I enjoy every minute of it, admiring the view of rolling hills blanketed by pristine white snow that weighs down evergreen branches and conceals the many crops of boulders and bushes that mark the Landrys’ frozen landscape as readily as the bison. The farther we get from everyone and everything, the less I worry about anything.
The more I focus on the man taking me away from it all.
Logan points ahead as we follow the tracks from the last perimeter check, before slowing down to a stop. He cuts the engine. “That’s the new section I put in last month.”
I hop off, my winter boots sinking into the deep snow. “I haven’t been back this far in forever.”
Logan follows me, flipping up his visor. He squints against the sun’s reflection. “I’ve been back here almost every day since I came home, clearing land, until the snow arrived.”
“Sounds fun.” It’s meant to be glib.
“I don’t mind it.” He treks in closer, his stride challenged by the depth of the snow. “This is where they got in. And they ran right across to the eastern pasture where the calves are.” He stops at the spot where the woven wire fencing sags. It took me years to remember the various Landry pastures, named for location and purpose. I still get them mixed up.
He points at the numerous animal tracks. “They followed the fence line right in.”
“Makes sense.” To the west of us, dense, mostly uninhabited forest stretches for hundreds of kilometers, all the way to Lake Superior.
“This was strong when I checked it last. I know it was.” He shakes his head. “It’s not like the herd has even been in this pasture to cause any strain.”
I’ve seen the way bison rub against fences, testing them. “We did get a lot of snow.”
“But there’s no reason for this to happen on a new fence. I made sure the tension was …” His words fade as he leans in to inspect the post. Pulling his glove off, he runs his index finger over something. “Hey, come look at this.”
I close in beside him to focus where his finger skates over a gouge in the wood.
“And here. And here too.” He points out similar divots all the way down the post. “Someone pried the staples out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. These are new posts.” He frowns as he scans the landscape again, his mood heavy with suspicion.
“Why would someone come all the way back here to sabotage fencing you put up a month ago so wolves can get in? What would they accomplish?”