Forever Wild. Allyson Charles

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СКАЧАТЬ pounding rhythm vibrated through her veins. Lissa lifted her arms to the ceiling and swung her hips to the rockabilly beat. Aside from painting, there was nothing she loved more than dancing. She spun, her hair swinging over her bare shoulders, and felt a moment of absolute independence.

      She was free. Finally. Working for the Sam Morris Gallery on commission had been stifling. Everyone still wanted blue dogs, red cats, yellow birds, or whatever the heck else tourists thought they needed to buy in New Orleans. It had drained her creativity. And her bank account. She still couldn’t believe the jerk had been ripping her off.

      She pounded the heels of her sandals into the worn wooden floor of the honky-tonk and let the irritation drain away. It didn’t matter anymore. She’d reclaimed what had been taken.

      A set of hands gripped her hips from behind, and Lissa raised an eyebrow. So, the stick-in-the-mud had decided to come out of his cave. After walking all the dogs, Dax had stomped into the room next to hers at the Hideaway Motel and shut the door. Firmly. She’d shouted that she was going across the street for a burger and a beer but had only heard dogs barking from his room in response.

      It was like the man was unhappy a woman had hopped into the back of his van. Wouldn’t most guys accept their luck and roll with it? Well, if Dax had come out to dance, maybe he’d decided to lighten up.

      She turned to face him and looked up with a smile. Which quickly crashed. The man leering down at her wasn’t the cute ginger she was expecting. Stepping back, she wagged a finger at the stranger. “Most men at least ask to buy me a drink before they try to touch.” Giving her a ride to her new life was an acceptable substitute. “Didn’t your momma teach you any manners?”

      Shuffling forward, he reached for her again. He flashed a tobacco-stained leer at her, and her stomach rolled. “Just wanted to keep you company,” he said. “You looked lonely out on the dance floor all alone.”

      The song ended and a ballad with a slow beat came over the speakers. Nope. She didn’t even want to shake it with the guy to a club beat. No way was she doing a slow song. “I’m never lonely,” she told him, and turned to leave.

      He grabbed her wrist. “Now, come on. I think they’re playing our song.”

      Irritation flushed through her body, raising her temperature. And loosening her tongue. “I wouldn’t share a song with you if you were the last man in Memphis.”

      His fingers tightened as his eyes narrowed.

      Good. Let him experience some of her annoyance. It seemed only fair.

      “Take your hand off her.” The voice was low, dangerous, and if Lissa hadn’t seen the flash of auburn hair next to her, she wouldn’t have believed it came from the same sweet, flustered man who had been too nice to kick her out of his van.

      A hank of that glorious hair fell in front of one of his eyes, making Dax appear even rougher. “I won’t tell you again.”

      Lissa looked between the two men. Dax was tall, over six feet, and had a couple of inches on her wannabe dance partner. But the other dude had mass over Dax’s lean form. Things could get ugly, and she was standing in the middle. “Now, boys, no need to get your feathers ruffled. My dancing feet are tired anyway, and I’m going to go finish my meal.”

      The man slowly eased his grip and dropped her wrist. “Shit song on now anyway.” With a chin bob to Dax that conveyed something in the language of men Lissa didn’t understand, he turned and stomped away.

      “You okay?” Dax asked.

      “Sure.” She lifted her shoulders. “Just another pushy guy. No biggie.”

      “A man grabs you, it’s a big deal.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Grandpa. Really, how old are you, Dax? That’s how people our age act. Chivalry’s been dead for many a moon.”

      He ran his fingers through his thick hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “Look … You know what?” He blew out his cheeks. “It’s not my business. You can do what you want.”

      “Well, what I want is to finish my dinner.” She grabbed his hand with both of hers and took a step backward. “I’ve got a table near the window. Let’s get you some food, too. My treat.”

      He dug in his heels. “I already have a spot. And my own burger.” He jerked a thumb at the bar.

      She drew her eyebrows together. “But … you must have known I was already here. Why didn’t you come sit with me?”

      He had the decency to look embarrassed. “I just wanted a quick bite and then I have to get back to the dogs. They might tear the room apart before I get back.”

      “You didn’t want to eat with me?” She was being snubbed by a Boy Scout whose only companions were a pack of dogs? Laughter burbled out of her. “Now I know you’re an old fogie trapped in a cutie’s body.” She changed direction and tugged harder, determined to spark some life into the poor guy. He stumbled after her to the bar. She kept hold of him with one hand and picked up his plate of food with the other. “Come on, I won’t bite.”

      He stared at the exposed beam above his head and muttered something under his breath.

      “I’ll even buy you something sweet afterward,” she coaxed. Listening to Dax grumble was loads more entertaining than people-watching. And getting him to smile would be her own sweet treat. Besides, she wanted to know more about the man who’d saved her from Tweedledee, Tweedledum, and Tweedledumber back in New Orleans. Dax hadn’t known he was saving her, but the fact remained.

      She put her weight into pulling him toward her table, and with a sigh, he picked up his mug of beer and trailed after her.

      After he sat across from her, Lissa started her interrogation. “So, what’s it like being a dog rescuer?”

      “A dog rescuer?” He shook his head and picked up his half-eaten burger. “I don’t think that’s a job title. Besides, working at Forever Friends, the dog shelter in Crook County I’m heading to, is only a volunteer gig. I’m an adventure guide for an eco-tourism company.”

      “Really?” Now that was more like it. Dogs were great and all, but working around them all day couldn’t be exciting. “White water rafting? Zip-lining across canyons? Skydiving into the Great Lakes?”

      His lips twitched. “Yes to the rafting and zip-lining, but the other one goes past adventurous into crazy territory.” He dragged a French fry through a puddle of ketchup on his plate. “Although I have taken groups to the Canadian Rockies for some heli-skiing tours.” He eyed her while he chewed. He took a swig of beer and wiped his upper lip with the back of his wrist. “What about you? What kind of art do you do?”

      “I’m a painter, mainly oils, though I’ve been known to dabble in watercolors and acrylics. I’ve even sculpted a piece or two.” And been told to never get near an innocent lump of clay again. Morris hadn’t even bothered trying to sell her abstract sculptures. But he’d only been half an art dealer. The other half had been a thief, so maybe he didn’t know as much about art as she’d thought. Maybe her sculptures hadn’t been half bad.

      She pursed her lips and visualized her last sculpture, a deformed bit of clay that was supposed to be a horse. No, they had been that bad. “What’s СКАЧАТЬ