Kara Lennox - One Stubborn Texan

Russ laughed. “It’s your loss, missing out on the love of a good dog. That’s okay. Both Nero and I still like you.”

She eyed him curiously, apparently not sure how to take his flirting. When he grinned back at her, she looked away.

Another spear of guilt needled him. What kind of a degenerate flirts with a woman he’s lying to?

“Did the chow hurt you badly?” he asked, feeling sympathy for the small child she once was.

“I spent a week in the hospital and another three years in and out of surgery.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of it.” No wonder she didn’t trust dogs. No wonder she was afraid-even if she refused to admit it. He glanced over at her, giving her a frank examination. “I don’t see any scars.” At least, none that weren’t covered up by clothing.

She reached over, took his right hand off the steering wheel, and placed it under her hair at the back of her neck. “Feel the bumps?”

He nodded, running his fingers along her skin as if he were reading braille. Bumps or no, her neck felt nice.

“I wear scarves for a reason. But I did have an exceptional doctor. He got rid of most of the scars.”

“But not the ones in here.” He lightly touched her temple, then quickly returned both hands to the steering wheel where they belonged.

“Dogs sense something in me-hostility, maybe. I give off some scent only they can smell. If I walk into a pet shop, all the dogs start barking like they have rabies.”

“Nero likes you. Why else would he kiss you on the ear?”

At the sound of his name, the dog’s head popped up from behind the backseat. Sydney stiffened, though she said nothing.

“Nero, lie down.”

Nero’s hopeful eyebrows fell as he disappeared once again behind the seat. Sydney relaxed.

Figuring they’d talked enough about dogs, Russ kept Sydney distracted by pointing out a landmark here and a rock formation there. She responded with seeming interest, sometimes asking a question or simply nodding thoughtfully.

“It’s beautiful out here, even in the winter,” she conceded. “Even a confirmed urbanite like me can appreciate that.”

After they’d been driving for about twenty minutes, Russ pulled off the main road and onto a rutted dirt road that challenged the Bronco’s suspension. Five minutes later, he stopped at a washed-out bridge that had once spanned Deer Creek, a ribbon of water with a steep, rocky bank.

Stately oaks, scrubby mesquite and maples crowded the road from both sides and climbed the distant hills, their brown, bare trunks interspersed with evergreen junipers. One thing Russ loved about the Hill Country was the way the landscape varied from bare, brown rocks to gentle hills and valleys coated with buffalo grass to lush woods.

“Wow.” Sydney gazed through the windshield at a landscape that was picture-postcard perfect, even when the trees were bare of leaves. “Is this a state park or something?”

“Actually, it’s private land owned by some hospitable friends of mine,” he said as he cut the engine. “But it butts up against a park creating an uninterrupted chunk of wilderness.” Big enough to support some of the threatened animals that needed large areas to range, like bobcats and cougars. But he wisely chose not to mention critters of any kind to Sydney. If she was afraid of old Nero, he couldn’t imagine how she would react to a cougar.

“Have we stopped here for a reason?” Sydney asked.

“No bridge.”

“Can’t we…go around?”

“Sorry, but from here we have to hoof it.”

“What? How far?”

“Only about four miles.” Not giving her a fair chance to object, he opened his door and jumped down, leaving her gaping.

Sydney shut her mouth. Four miles? Why was she panicking? She could do four miles. In New York terms, that was forty blocks. She walked that far some days. And on the treadmill, she ran as many as five or six miles. Piece of cake.

Anyway, she had a feeling Russ enjoyed forcing her out of her comfort zone. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d startled her.

Sydney opened her door, looked down at the red mud, grimaced and jumped down. Her feet sank into the soft earth and she was grateful for the hiking boots. Her suede, high-heeled shoes would have been instantly ruined.

It felt good to stretch her legs after the cramped confines of the truck. It was actually a pretty big truck, but it had felt cramped, given the two overwhelming presences she’d been forced to share it with. Just the thought of that beast lurking in the back made her break out in goose bumps. As for Russ-well, his presence was threatening in an altogether different way. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel like hiding from him; in fact, she’d had no trouble confiding highly personal information, especially strange for her given that she was usually slow to trust strangers.

She closed the door to the truck and stretched her arms up over her head, taking in a deep breath of country air. Lord, what she wouldn’t give to have this quality of air where she lived.

A sharp bark startled her and she whirled around. The dog was still safely confined in the back of the Bronco.

“He just wants to get out and explore,” Russ said from behind the truck. He opened the rear door.

Sydney shuddered and stepped to the other side of the road, where she wouldn’t have to look at the beast. While Nero explored, Russ turned his attention to hauling out a couple of backpacks.

“What do we need those for?”

“It’s always a good idea to be prepared when hiking into the wilderness.”

“Please don’t tell me the dog is going to hike with us.”

Russ sighed. “No, he’ll stay in the truck.”

Thank goodness for small favors. Sydney might actually enjoy a nature hike, but not if she had to worry about a dog putting his muddy paws all over her or slobbering on her clothes. Besides, dogs were genetically wolves. In the wild like this, wouldn’t it be easy for one to revert? And Nero was big, maybe bigger than a chow.

“He might like to come with us,” Russ continued, “but I don’t take him hiking anymore. Last time I did, he took off after a rabbit and didn’t come home for two days. When he finally showed up he was more dead than alive.”

The dog kept his nose to the ground, checking everything out, then came to the exact spot where Sydney had stood and sniffed the ground madly. Nero then followed her trail around the Bronco and stopped right in front of her, giving a sharp bark. Sydney cringed. The beast was hunting her. Why couldn’t Russ see that?

“Nero!” Russ called, and the dog went to his master’s voice. Russ loaded him back into the cargo area. He opened all the windows a few inches, then locked the dog inside.

With Nero taken care of, Russ shouldered his backpack with economical movements, then nodded toward Sydney’s. Determined to rise to whatever challenge he placed before her, she shrugged into the pack, then let Russ adjust the straps, aware of his strong, capable hands, brown from the sun even in winter. When he readjusted the collar of her blouse, his fingers brushed against bare skin and she shivered.

“Cold?”

“A little,” she fibbed. Actually, she was warm, verging on hot, thinking about the feel of those hands against her skin. Just move a little to the left …

The pack adjusted to his satisfaction, he stared at her an uncomfortably long time, as if sizing her up-or maybe guessing her lascivious thoughts. She hoped not. “Is it too heavy?” he finally asked.

She took a few steps, getting used to the weight. “I can handle it.”

Russ raised an appreciative eyebrow, but said nothing.