Love of the Wild (3 page)

The youngest son, Rafael, seemed like a very joyous person—always smiling, happy, and bouncy on his seat. Next to him sat his partner, also a guy, Kris Ellis, who looked at Rafael with so much affection Jim felt another twinge of jealousy.

Those young men had found their respective partners in life, companions in and out of bed. As glad as he was for those good folks to have found their happy ever after, Jim felt lonelier than he had in years. That feeling had haunted him as he went to bed that night—and dreamed of the mysterious Dak.

This morning after breakfast, Jim had his plans all set. He had promised Daniel he would deliver Dak’s supplies to him, and that was what he was going to do.

“What exactly am I taking up to Dak?” Jim asked as he loaded the small crates and the burlap sacks to the back of the truck.

“Provisions,” Daniel replied vaguely, tossing a soft sack up as well. “Dak can get what he needs from the woods, but we make sure he gets his vitamins, new clothes and shoes, oil for his lamps, that sort of thing. In exchange, he keeps predatory animals away from our bull herd and our horses, much like a park ranger.”

“Sounds like an equitable tradeoff.” Jim’s curiosity got the better of him even though he was supposed to be focusing on other things. “What does Dak do for a living?”

Daniel stopped and frowned, more pensively than anything. “He’s done a lot of things in his life. More than most men, surely.”

“How old is he? I couldn’t tell. He’s in great shape.” Jim blushed at saying the last part, not having intended to speak so candidly.

Daniel chuckled. “Older than the land he walks on, older than the skies above us. The truth is, I don’t know. He may be a family friend, but he’s a private person. We’ve never pried.”

Pondering the odd response, Jim was even more intrigued about the mysterious man in the woods. “What’s his name? I mean, besides Dak.”

“I think it’s Dakotah. A tribal name. But I’m not sure.” Jim couldn’t tell if Daniel was being evasive or oblivious. Either way, the puzzle that was Dak merely deepened. And Jim wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“Is he Native American?” he asked, loading the last sack onto the back of the truck.

“Dak’s many things,” Daniel replied. From his distracted expression, it was clear he wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation.

Jim was bewildered about this so-called friendship between the King family and Dak, when it seemed Daniel didn’t know the first thing about Dak. Or perhaps he was simply guarding the man’s privacy. Lord knew he had a right to keep a lookout for his friend.

And Jim couldn’t exactly claim pure innocence since he did have an ulterior motive for speaking with Dak again, and it didn’t have anything to do with the intense attraction he felt for the man.

H
ALF
AN
hour later, Jim was within sight of the log cabin up in the mountains. The dry air was warm and getting hotter as the sun blazed down. Loose pebbles and rugs of dry pine needles made sure Jim couldn’t approach the place silently.

He stepped onto the railed porch, stamping his feet to make sure Dak heard him. On his right were stacks of crates and a yellow wooden box—probably for perishable food items, Jim surmised—and on his left a simple wooden rocking chair, fit for two. The image of Jim sitting on it with Dak, enjoying a warm evening and a golden sunset, made his heart flutter oddly.

Swallowing hard, Jim pushed the thought aside and knocked on the door.

No one answered.

Jim knocked again, louder this time. “Dak? You in there? It’s me, Jim. Daniel asked me to bring you some provisions. Hello? Anyone there?”

Just when he was about to peer through the windows, Jim heard a rustling sound in the bushes behind him.

Startled, Jim turned around and narrowed his eyes in inspection as he waited in place. Now nothing stirred. Only the faint rustle of branches high up, disturbed by the summer winds. Nothing else. Yet Jim was certain there was something in the bushes, not thirty feet from the porch.

Licking his lips and fighting the urge to panic, scream, and run, Jim called out, “Hello? Is someone there?”

Another whir of sound, this time from the other side of the cabin. Jim whipped around, but the cause of the sound was again hidden in the shrubbery. Jim felt cold sweat drip down his back as primal fears began to overrule good sense.

He continued to stare into the bushes, and for a split second, he could have sworn he saw two golden eyes staring back at him, oval and glowing, like mirrors. The giant wolf was back. He would have peed his pants if he hadn’t been so stiff and scared.

Then Jim blinked, and the eyes were gone. All was still once more.

But did he feel safe and calm? Fuck that.

He saw a large stick close to the porch, and he dashed for it, grabbed it, and swung it around himself, doing a whole ungraceful pirouette, just in case.

When he stepped toward the porch again, Dak was standing there, studying him with an unreadable expression.

“Oh, hello.” Jim might have stammered a little, caught off guard. He straightened up, not having realized he’d hunched. “Um, hi. It’s me, Jim Faulkner, from a couple of days ago?”

Dak cocked his head to the side, his long hair shifting, and he quirked an eyebrow. “You sound unsure.”

Jim chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. The heat wasn’t sweltering yet, but it undoubtedly would be by afternoon. “My memory’s fine. I wasn’t sure about yours.” When Dak didn’t respond, Jim added quickly, “Daniel sent me with some provisions for—”

“I heard you before. The whole mountain range heard you,” Dak cut in, his tone not quite hostile but far from friendly. Jim wondered why the man didn’t like him.

Dispirited, Jim nodded his acquiescence for now. “The truck is full. Could you help me get stuff back here?”

Dak was already moving when the word truck emerged from Jim’s lips, and he strode past Jim on long, stout legs before Jim had finished speaking.

“Okay, then.” Jim sighed and followed the man in silence.

By the time Jim reached the truck, Dak had already hoisted two crates in his arms and hefted them onto his massive shoulders as if they weighed nothing. But Jim had lifted them to the back of the truck and knew well enough they were far from feathery. He wasn’t sure if he felt admiration for Dak’s strength or unease for the same reason.

Through the clearing process, Dak remained stony of expression and silent. Jim didn’t like either, but he didn’t say anything. The one good thing that came out of all of it was his subsiding erection, which had jumped up in delight upon seeing Dak at first. Now Jim’s cock lay soft in his pants, and he could think and work without having to move bowlegged.

Another half hour later, the truck was empty and all the crates and sacks brought into the cabin or the porch. Jim was exhausted and dying of thirst, though he was sure he had in fact done only a third of the work involved. Heck, probably only a quarter in all honesty.

And Dak wasn’t even sweating!

“Any chance of getting a drink?” he asked, unashamed. His throat was dry, and his voice had gone raspy from the exertion and the hot, dry air in which the winds carried sand and pollen.

Dak nodded and headed to the side of the cabin. A rock- and moss-covered root cellar stood about fifteen feet from the cabin. Dak opened the creaking door and entered into the shade. Jim watched his receding back descend, so he figured the cellar was below ground. As curious as he was, Jim still didn’t go in himself.

Dak returned less than a minute later and offered Jim a glass bottle filled with clear water. Frost covered the glass, now sweating in the sun. Jim didn’t question the offering but took a deep gulp, then another, and before he knew it, he had emptied half the bottle. The water refreshed him in every sense.

It was a good thing too, he thought. Because the brief brush of Dak’s fingers against his own had sent heat coursing through his veins like magma. The ice-cold water cooled off some of that sensation.

“Thanks,” he said after he had drunk his fill, and he gave the bottle back to Dak.

Nodding, Dak took the bottle, his gaze directed at it as if he was lost in thought.

But Jim had a nagging feeling the man just didn’t want to look at
him
.

Once again, he had two choices. He could leave the brooding man to his own devices, or he could stay and find out more about him.

His natural curiosity—and rising libido—won out. “Have you lived here long?”

Dak looked at Jim in surprise. It was unnerving to have to crane his neck and look up at this man who seemed so unapproachable, but Jim held his ground.

“A while,” Dak answered.

Short and to the point, Jim thought. “It’s nice out here. Though not a lot of modern amenities.”

Dak’s brows drew together. “Such as?”

“Electricity, phones, cable TV, the Internet?”

“Distractions, time wasters, mood killers.”

“Um, indoor plumbing and a bathroom?”

“I have an outhouse out back, and the river’s not far.”

Jim shivered with chills at the mere notion. “Bathing in icy mountain waters? Wow, you
are
daring.”

“The river runs slowly through the plains at the foothills before dropping down to the gorge that goes through town too. The water gets warm during the summer months.” Dak watched Jim carefully, but Jim still didn’t feel the love. Even though this was the most the man had ever said to him.

Yet he wasn’t defeated despite feeling dejected. “What do you do around here for fun?”

Dak’s eyes flashed intently, and his lips tightened. Clearly he objected to the question or the topic, or both. “Folks focus too much on fun these days.”

Jim felt personally wounded, as if he were a child being admonished. “One doesn’t need to be serious all the time. I mean, what’s wrong with letting loose once in a while?”

Dak’s frown deepened. “Without serious focus life has no meaning. Idle, meaningless pleasures dull the mind, weaken the body, and destroy the spirit.”

The topic at hand was getting a little too existential and philosophical for Jim. It wasn’t that he couldn’t converse about such matters, but this wasn’t his goal with Dak. Still, he couldn’t help but respond to the challenge. “Not all pleasures have to be meaningless. What about romance? Or soul mates?”

Dak’s frown disappeared as his eyebrows rose high in surprise. “You believe in those things, Mr. Faulkner? I would not have thought it possible. Not for a modern townie.”

Jim bristled. “It’s Jim. My name. And just why wouldn’t I be capable of romance and love?”

“You speak of fun, diversions, and games. What do those things have to do with love, as you say?”

It occurred to Jim then that Dak was a cynic. He didn’t believe in love, and he couldn’t see the enjoyment in it. That meant either he had been burned by love or he had never been in love. “Love and amusement are not mutually exclusive,” he countered. “I’ve spent some of the best, the funniest, times of my life with lovers. Loving and lovemaking can be fun. They’re allowed to be fun, humorous, light. It doesn’t have to be so grave, you know.”

Dak’s expression hardened once more, and he crossed his arms across his huge barrel chest. “Neither love nor fun are anything but fleeting emotional tempests. Not worth my time.”

God, the gorgeous man really was a negative nelly. “I’ve found the exact opposite to be true. When I was in love, seconds felt like eternity. Definitely worth
my
time.”

Dak shrugged, impassive again. “And yet you stand here
out
of love, I’m guessing.”

Jim felt provoked. “I don’t regret having those experiences. They’ve enriched my life and my spirit, as you say.”

Dak shrugged, and it seemed he was done with the conversation since he headed back toward the cabin in long, steady strides. Jim couldn’t believe he’d actually talked about love with this man who was obviously determined to be alone and disliked by the world at large. Quite unlike himself, Jim wanted to argue more, to shoot down every sarcastic and pessimistic remark Dak had made. He wanted the man to listen to his side, to see that the miracle of love was a worthy pursuit.

Perhaps Dak would even consider Jim worthy of a good chase and a romp in the hay.

But in truth, this conversation had been the epitome of bizarre. One simply didn’t go around spouting about eternal love to a man he had met exactly twice, and briefly at that.

So, Jim decided to focus on the real reason he had come out here in the first place. “Say, are there any wolves around here?” Dak stopped, his hand frozen on the door handle. But he had his back to Jim, so Jim couldn’t see his expression. He hastened to explain. “When I was stuck up in the tree, I thought I saw a wolf. A huge wolf. And just before you came here a moment ago I thought I saw—”

“This is the wilderness, Mr. Faulkner, not the zoo. Of course there are wild animals here.” Dak’s tone was gruff and his words curt.

Annoyance at the man’s attitude made Jim clench his fists at his sides. “I was just asking if you have a wolf problem because that thing I saw was gigantic and—”

“So wolves are nothing but a problem, is that it?” Now Dak practically growled, and Jim shivered.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“Look, if you’d seen that monster I saw—”

Dak stopped him short. “You had dropped through branches and hurt your head. You probably imagined the whole thing.”

Jim swallowed hard, wanting badly to scream at this irritating man who dismissed him at every turn. “I didn’t hurt my head, and my eyesight is twenty-twenty. I didn’t imagine it. I know what I saw.” Well, Jim could still see things well enough at a distance, but sometimes when he was tired, he found himself in need of reading glasses. But only once in a while! So, as far as he was concerned, it didn’t count and required no explanation.

Surprisingly, Dak let out a deep bark of laughter. The sound dripped sarcasm. “You’re a townie, Mr. Faulkner. I wouldn’t be surprised if what you saw was a little fox or a beaver. How would you even know what a wolf looks like?”