Shades of Grey (2 page)

“
You’re different
.”

And that was all he’d got out of her.

It churned Travis’ guts when he thought about one of the other men touching her. Made him see red every time. So why hadn’t he told her how he felt? Why did he stand on the sidelines, just being her friend and employee? Simple. Because what woman would believe he could shift into a wolf? What woman in her right mind could accept that? Sarah was level-headed, strong and independent, saw things in black and white. Anything grey didn’t figure with her. It was a frustrating trait, one that had led to many heated discussions between them, ending up with him walking away allowing her to believe she was right and he was wrong.

But with Clark fucking James, he wouldn’t be swayed. That man was bad to the marrow. Travis would just have to make sure Sarah saw it, that was all.

She shifted in her seat, flicking over a page in her book. He wondered what she was reading this time. Maybe one of those horror novels she enjoyed so much, or a thriller, perhaps. He should have known she wasn’t the romance type. No hearts and flowers for this girl. She liked it as real as it could get, true crime being her favourite read, so she’d said.

Her long hair, black as a crow’s wing, fell forward, shining from the light of the fire. She tucked the wayward strands behind her ear and brought one hand to her mouth, sucking a thumb tip or biting a nail, he wasn’t sure which. He wondered what that hair would feel like running through his fingers, whether the folds of her cunt would be just as soft—or softer. If he wasn’t a wolf he’d be hard right now, battling away an erection that threatened to expose how he felt about her. So far, when in her presence, he’d managed to walk away if his cock sprang to life, or to hide it beneath his plaid shirt fronts. Even taking his Stetson off and holding it casually in front—the action looking as natural as breathing, belying the real reason behind it.

A few splatters of rain slapped his pelt, one plopping on the end of his snout. That was all he fucking needed. Yeah, he’d known it was going to rain at some point, but he’d hoped it would be later once he’d seen Clark off. Now the rain would mess with his sense of smell, and if a wind picked up he was in the shit and then some. Frustrated, he growled low in his throat, the hair on his neck standing upright.

Something wasn’t right.

He cocked his head again, straining hard, wanting to pick up on whatever had made those neck hairs react. Sniffing did nothing, bringing only a damp-earth stench along with a harder dash of rain. Nothing sounded untoward—no footsteps, no shuffles, no—

Breathing. He heard breathing, all right, and it wasn’t his own.

“Well, look what we have here,” Clark said, voice smarmy. “A goddamn wolf prowling the property.”

Travis spun to face the man, retracting his lips and growling louder.

“You don’t scare me none,” Clark said, his smile creamy from the light in Sarah’s living room. Strands of short dark hair lay flat on his head. “Not when I got me a gun here.”

The urge to smack the shit out of Clark gripped Travis, but he couldn’t shift, didn’t have the time. Besides, if he shifted, the story of him being a wolf would be around the town by dawn, and fighting Clark naked wasn’t high on Travis’ list.

He stared at Clark, eyeing the small pistol hooked into the man’s waistband. If he was quick, he could knock Clark down before he even had time to draw. Decision made, he lunged, all four paws smacking Clark in his shirt-fronted chest. Travis sailed through the air with him before hitting the ground with a dull thud. The rain fell harder, running into Travis’ eyes, and he shook his head, blinking to get clearer sight. Beneath him, Clark pushed against Travis’ chest with one hand, his other frantically searching for his gun.

Travis wasn’t taking any chances. He dipped his head quickly, sinking his teeth into Clark’s ear. He wanted to rip that fucker off but held back. All he needed to do was make the man leave, get him off this land until he figured out how best to keep Sarah safe. Her being raped if she declined Clark’s offer of being her man just wasn’t in the cards, no matter how much Clark had laughed about it earlier. God, that son of a bitch needed taking down a peg or ten.

Travis bit harder, pleased to hear Clark wailing as he smacked at Travis’ snout with both hands. Scooting his back end around, Travis sat on Clark’s gun and applied a little more pressure to his ear.

“Get the hell off me!” Clark yelled, the sound of the rain drowning out his voice. “You fucking bastard of an animal. Get off!”

Travis released his ear and went for one of his hands instead. He bit, teeth sinking into the flesh. Blood flooded his tongue. Clark’s primordial howl almost matched Travis’ when he had a mind to cry out at the moon. If this situation wasn’t so serious, Travis would have laughed.

“Jesus damn Christ!” Clark said, his breaths heavy pants.

Travis let go and stepped back, snarling and snapping his teeth.

Go, get the hell out of here, asshole. Know when you’re beaten.

Cautiously, Clark scooted backwards, only standing when a few feet separated them. “Where’s my damn gun?” He looked away for a second to find it—it lay a few metres away—but had a change of heart, returning his sights to Travis.

Yeah, best you fucking forget it.

Clark backed away, clutching his injured hand to his chest. The blood from his ear looked almost as black as his hair in the shadows he’d retreated to, Sarah’s living room lights ineffective this far away.

“You goddamned motherfucker!” Clark shouted. “I’ll be back for you. I’ll remember your hairy ass, you see if I don’t.”

He turned and ran, boot heels almost kissing his ass every time he lifted them from the ground. Travis watched him go, remaining in place until he was sure the man wasn’t coming back. He stood there for a long time, until the moon had shifted some and the rain had gathered speed. Until a giant crack of thunder roared and a streak of lightning fell just short of striking one of the trees.

Turning back to the house, Travis trotted to the French doors and looked inside. Sarah was still reading, oblivious to what had occurred right outside her window. He watched her for a while, mind filled with images of them together, in the past and the future. Memories of her riding the horses, hair swinging, ass raised from the saddle, her thigh muscles prominent beneath her skin-tight jeans. In the future he pictured her much the same way, except he rode beside her and she looked at him in the way a woman looks at a man when she’s in love.

Not going to happen.

The sting of something hitting his foot made Travis yelp before he had a chance to stop himself. Pain bloomed, radiating up his leg and burning through his muscles. A shuffle, barely discernible because of the pelting rain and bouts of thunder, alerted him to the fact that, once again, he wasn’t alone. He twisted around, grimacing at the ache in his foot, and saw the retreating figure of Clark jumping over the fence and disappearing into the darkness.

How the fuck didn’t I hear him?

Too busy entertaining fantasies, that’s why, asshole.

He cursed himself a little more, felt the shift start to take over—and panicked. No, no way could he shift. Not now, not here.

Aww, fuck.

Too late. He slumped to the floor, his foot on fire, the rest of his body burning just as bad. The shift seemed to take forever, and, by God, it hurt. It didn’t usually, so what was different about tonight? He felt woozy, lightheaded, and, as the final vestiges of his wolf vanished, he looked through the French windows to check on Sarah.

She stood staring at him through the glass, a frown creating deep crevices in her forehead, her mouth open in shock. Had she seen him shift?

Jesus, no. Please, not that…

She wrenched open one door and stood in the frame, hands jammed on her hips and fire in her eyes. “Travis? What in the hell are you doing out here?”

“I…” He couldn’t manage much more than that.

“And naked—
naked
in my damn backyard!” She stepped out into the driving rain, walking towards him barefoot. “Of all the people to label a pervert, I’d never have picked you, Travis Williams. Get the hell up and explain yourself!”

He stood, difficult with the pain in his foot, and opened his mouth to speak.

Before he had the chance to form words, Sarah said, “Oh my God. Your foot. It’s bleeding!” She knelt, hair plastered to her head now, rain running in rivulets down her face. “Oh, shit. You’ve been
shot!
”

What?

Travis glanced at his foot. A bloody mess marred the webbing between his big toe and the next.

That fucking Clark…

“Who the hell did this?” she demanded, standing and holding out her hand.

“I don’t know.” He took her hand and allowed her to lead him into her living room. “The floor. I’m going to get it filthy.”

“Fuck the floor!” she snapped. “I’m more interested in your foot.”

Normally, he’d have wished she was more interested in his cock, but now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. As though knowing he’d been shot had given his body permission to react, the pain grew more intense. It was only a flesh wound, but, shit, it killed like a mad bitch.

She closed the door, snapping the lock into place. “Get yourself into the kitchen. I’ll clean you up. And maybe you can explain why you’re naked while we’re at it.”

He lowered his head and walked to the kitchen as best he could, wishing other circumstances had led to her seeing him naked. Still, at least she knew what he looked like unclothed now. The best he could do was let her clean then dress his wound and get the hell home. He’d make up some bullshit about why he was on her property at night and hope he convinced her.

He sat on a pine chair at the table and lifted his foot, balancing it on his knee. Sarah bustled in, draping a blanket around him then going to the cupboard under the sink where she kept her first-aid kit.

“So,” she said, dropping it onto the table and taking off the lid. “What the fuck were you doing out there with no clothes on? You got some kind of fetish or something? Enjoy dancing naked in the rain, is that it?”

Travis almost laughed. “No, no, nothing like that. I saw someone walking towards your house with a gun. I’d just got out of the shower…”
There, that should do it.

“And?” She took his foot in hand and began cleaning it with sterile wipes.

It stung.

“So, I didn’t think. I went out to follow and—”

“Got shot your goddamned self. Wonderful.”

“That’s about the measure of it.”

“Well, as you know, I can take care of myself. Thanks for thinking of me and everything, but I really don’t need you babysitting me. I’ve lived here long enough alone since my daddy passed away, and I manage just fine. I have a gun in every room and intend to use them if anyone dares to break inside. So, next time you’re naked and you see someone headed here, pick up the phone instead, all right?”

Travis nodded. He hated lying to her, but what could he do? If he told her it had been Clark and she questioned the bastard, he might tell her she’d had a wolf in her yard. It was highly unlikely she’d put two and two together—people around here still didn’t believe in shifters—but he didn’t want to take the risk.

“Now then,” she said, “once I’m done here, I’ll make you some tea and get you some clothes. You can take the spare room for the night, if you like, or I’ll drive you over the field to your place. Whatever you want.”

“Thanks.”

“Yes, well, you won’t be thanking me in a minute. You really ought to have this stitched or it’s going to get infected. So, grit your teeth and hold on for the ride, nude boy.”

Chapter Two

Sarah finished dressing his foot, worried in case she’d done it wrong. A bullet wound was completely different from the odd graze or cut, despite the confidence she’d displayed when she told him she’d sew it… That had been a ruse, the protective guard she put in place so no one knew she felt vulnerable at times—not only vulnerable in certain situations, but there was also the fact that this was the closest she’d come to a naked man.

Can a man really be that well built from working on a ranch?

Her mouth watered, and a tightness gripped the pit of her stomach. No man had ever made her feel this way before.

What was it about Travis Williams that made her weak in the knees?

“I really think you should go to the hospital.” She gathered her supplies and got up from the floor, trying to keep her eyes averted, but who in their right mind could stop looking at such male perfection? Long, straight black hair that fell to just past his shoulders, a strong, square jawline speckled with stubble that would rasp her cunt if she gave him the chance to get anywhere near her? She licked her lips and hated herself for seeing more of her employee than she wanted to.

Sarah placed the soiled wraps into the bin and her first-aid kit back in the cupboard under the sink.

“Right, tea…tea…” she mumbled, trying to get her head in working order.

Oh, my God! Travis Williams is naked in my house.

She pressed a hand to her heated cheek, then filled the kettle with enough water for two, afterwards pulling cups down from the cupboard, silently chanting what she had to do next. Turning everything into a list helped her to not dwell on the ranch hand—granted, the sexiest and most intriguing of ranch hands—sitting in her kitchen, bandaged and in need of care.

She turned to ask Travis how he liked his tea, jumping when she collided with his chest, the shock causing her to let go of a cup.

In a blur of motion Sarah couldn’t be sure she’d seen right, he caught the cup then held it in front of her face.

“Sorry for startling you,” he drawled.

The blanket she’d given him was wrapped around his hips sarong style, his chest exposed and close. All she would have to do would be to stick her tongue out to lick a line down that very masculine chest…

Focus, Sarah, focus.

With shaking fingers, she took the cup.