Wild at Heart. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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what you were trying to accomplish—documenting nesting behavior for a professor who plans to write up a paper on it. I thought that sounded like interesting work. I had a little spare time, so I decided to find out if you’re okay.”
“That’s thoughtful.” Especially when he didn’t know her from Adam. Nor did she know him, although under different circumstances, she’d be happy to get acquainted. “I’m doing fine, thanks.”
“How about the eagle babies? Are they all right?”
“So far.” Apparently he was curious about the eagles. She could understand that. They were fascinating creatures.
“Good. That’s good.” A fly started buzzing around him, followed by a couple of bees. He waved them away. “They’re after the sweet smell, I guess.”
“I’m sure.” He’d probably hoped to visit her platform and get a bird’s-eye view of the eagles. Time to stop being vain and let him do that. “Listen, did you want to come up and take a look at the nest?”
“I’d love to, but I’m all sticky and attracting bugs.”
“So maybe you could wash some of it off in the stream.”
“Yeah, that might work.”
“I’ll come down. I know the best spot along the bank for washing up.”
He smiled. “I’d like that. Thanks.”
“Be right there.” Wow, that was some smile he had going on. It almost made her forget that she looked like something the cat dragged in. She’d read that first impressions carried a tremendous amount of weight. As she started down the rope ladder, she hoped he’d make allowances.
DESPITE HAVING BEEN drenched in sticky, sweet green stuff, Luke wanted a look at Naomi Perkins. He hoped she’d be worth the possibility that he’d ruined his best hat. Had he known she possessed a hair-trigger startle response, he would have called out to her long before he’d reached her tree.
But as he’d approached, he’d assumed the platform was deserted. That was the only explanation for the total silence that had greeted him. If she’d been there, he’d reasoned, she would have greeted him.
That was the accepted way out here in the West. When a person laid claim to a portion of the great outdoors, be it with a campfire or a platform in a tree, they welcomed incoming riders. He was an incoming rider. She had to have noticed him. Yet for some reason she’d played possum.
So it was with great interest that he watched her climb down the rope ladder. First appeared a serviceable pair of hiking boots. He might have figured that.
Then came…Sweet Lord, she had an ass worthy of an exotic dancer. A man could forgive a whole bucket of that green glop landing on him for a chance to watch Naomi Perkins descend a ladder. He no longer cared about the sad condition of his hat, even though that Stetson had set him back a considerable amount of money.
She wore her tan T-shirt pulled out, not tucked in, but even so, he could tell that her slender waist did credit to the rest of her. Her breasts shifted invitingly as she descended, and by the time she’d reached the ground, he was glad he’d ridden out here.
Besides looking good coming down the ladder, she’d accomplished the climb with dexterity. She seemed perfectly at home out here by herself. He admired that kind of self-sufficiency. He’d guessed she might be that type of woman from the moment Emmett had described the job she was doing.
She’d put her honey-blond hair up in a careless ponytail. He could hardly expect some elaborate style from someone who’d been camping for days. Then she turned around, and he was lost.
Eyes bluer than morning glories, a heart-shaped face and pink lips that formed a perfect Cupid’s bow. He’d never thought about his ideal woman, but from the fierce pounding of his heart, he suspected he was looking at her.
Before coming to the Jackson Hole area to work at the Last Chance eight months ago, he’d spent a couple of years in Sacramento. Although that city wasn’t Hollywood by any means, he’d met plenty of women, young and old, who subscribed to plastic surgery and Botox beauty regimes. And the makeup—they wouldn’t walk out the door without it. Some slept in it.
Standing before him was someone who wore not an ounce of makeup. She had an expressive face that obviously hadn’t been nipped and tucked. In her khaki shorts and tan shirt, she seemed ready for adventure, like a sidekick for Indiana Jones. He didn’t run across women like Naomi all that often. He felt like hoisting this treasure up onto his saddle and riding off with her into the sunset.
Not literally, of course. Sunset wasn’t for several hours. Besides, that dramatic gesture sounded good in theory, but in reality he wasn’t a good candidate for riding into the sunset with a woman on his horse. That implied that he’d made some pretty big promises to her.
He was a rolling stone who didn’t make those kinds of promises. He traveled light. Even so, he wouldn’t mind spending some time with the luscious Miss Perkins when she wasn’t busy watching eagles.
Now that she was on the ground, he dismounted. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m afraid we’d be stuck together for eternity. My hands are covered with that green stuff.”
“Understood.”
He waved away more flies. “Time to get it off. Thanks for coming down to keep me company.” Leading his horse, he started toward the stream a few yards away.
“It’s the least I could do.” She fell into step beside him. Their boots crunched the pine needles underfoot and sent up a sharp, clean scent that helped counteract the sweetness of the energy drink.
“Your folks own the Shoshone Diner, right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I like the food there.”
“Me, too. Now you’re making me hungry for my mom’s meat loaf.”
“I would be, too, if I’d been trying to survive on that green junk. Listen, I didn’t mean to scare you by calling to you just now. I thought nobody was up there, but I wanted to make sure.” He glanced over at her to see what she might have to say for herself on that score.
Her cheeks turned pink. “I didn’t realize you’d come out here because of the eagles. I assumed you’d ride on by.”
“You didn’t think someone riding by would stop and say howdy?”
“Sure, if they knew I was up there.”
“So you were hiding from me?”
She nodded.
“Why?” He had a terrible thought. “Did you think I might hurt you?”
“No. I’m used to taking care of myself. I have bear spray and I know karate.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” It was the way he’d imagined she would be, resourceful and ready for anything. Very attractive traits. “But it doesn’t explain why you were hiding.”
She gestured to her herself and laughed. “Because I’m a hot mess!”
“You are?” He stared at her in confusion, unable to figure out what she meant.
“Okay, now you’re just being nice, and I appreciate it, but I’ve been out here for a week. I’ve slept in a tent, washed up in the stream and put on clothes that were stuffed in a backpack. And then there’s my hair.”
“Okay, your hair might be sort of supercasual.” He reached over, pulled a twig out of her ponytail and dropped it to the ground. “But the rest of you is just fine.” He didn’t know her well enough to tell her she looked sexy as hell. Her rumpled, accessible presentation worked for him way better than a slinky outfit. He related to someone who could survive without modern conveniences.
“Supercasual.” She chuckled. “That’s a great euphemism for