Werewolf in Denver (35 page)

From the corner of her eye she could see him rounding the aisle where she stood, a basket over his arm. Walking in the opposite direction, she ducked down a parallel aisle and carried her basket to the counter, where Ted was wrapping her carving.

He glanced up and smiled. “Do you want to tell—”

“No.” She kept her voice down. “Thanks for not saying anything.”

Ted spoke softly, obviously sensing her nervousness. “Decided that was up to you.” He finished taping the end of the parcel and set it aside. “Congratulations, though. He lives across the lake from you.”

“Thought I recognized him. What’s his name, again?”

“Jake Hunter. He’s a wilderness guide. Earns good money doing it. Quite well-off.”

“I see.” Judging people’s financial status was tough in a place like Polecat, where everyone kept a low profile, dressed casually, and drove dusty trucks and SUVs. She was flattered that a successful wilderness guide found value in her work.

Ted rang up her groceries and bagged them in the canvas tote she’d given him. She hadn’t bought much because she’d been so distracted, so Ted finished quickly. Fine with her. She would have prefered to be out the door before Jake returned to the counter.

She almost made it. She was tucking her change back into her purse when he walked up, his basket stuffed with everything from canned goods to paper products. He must have been a fast shopper.

Not wanting to appear antisocial, she met his gaze while keeping her expression friendly but neutral. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He glanced at her with the same carefully neutral expression. But then a spark of interest lit his green eyes.

Her breath caught. She’d never looked into those eyes before. Grandpa Ike’s binoculars were good, but not that good. Yet she felt as if she’d met his gaze before, and seeing it again brought back a half-remembered thrill. Crazy.

Even crazier, she flashed on the image of the black wolf in the clearing—a green-eyed wolf with dark, luxurious fur the same color as Jake’s collar-length hair. Clearly his purchase of the carving was messing with her mind.

The interest reflected in Jake’s eyes slowly changed to speculation. Maybe something in her expression had given her away, or maybe he’d picked up enough of her quiet conversation with Ted to figure out who she was. In any case, she needed to vamoose before he started asking questions.

Quickly breaking eye contact, she grabbed her canvas bag from the counter. Her smile probably looked more like a grimace, but it was the best she could do. “You two have a nice day!” She headed for the screen door.

As exits go, it wasn’t her best. Heart pounding, she climbed into the old truck Grandpa Ike had willed to her, started the ancient engine, and pulled out onto the two-lane road that skirted the lake. She’d escaped, but the adrenaline rush of making her first sale stayed with her.

Logic, the tool that her lawyer father embraced, told her that Jake buying the wolf carving wasn’t reason
enough to change her life. Intuition, the tool that her photographer mother preferred, whispered that she’d reached a major turning point and shouldn’t ignore it. Grandpa Ike, who had been more intuitive than anyone else on her mother’s side of the family, would have told her to listen to her instincts.

Rachel wondered what Jake Hunter would have said if she’d had the courage to admit she’d carved that wolf. Or maybe, judging from the quiet assessment in those green eyes, he already knew.