Page 2 of Cold Foot Croc (Wreck’s Mountains #3)

What was she even doing here?

Raynah Furrow dropped her hand to her side, fist still clenched, as she stared at Garret’s front door.

This was silly. “Stupid idea,” she muttered to herself as she turned and marched down his sidewalk, which had been shoveled and salted. His yard was pristine, too. She halted at the driveway and pursed her lips as she stared at his truck parked there. The yard had been mowed at the end of the warm season, and the snow was perfectly smooth as it lay in a three-inch layer atop it.

Her mom’s boyfriend, Harold Price, used to keep up their yard like this…before he died.

“Do you like the snow?”

“Ahh!” she yelped, turning fast.

Garret was standing at the corner of the house, like he’d come from the backyard. He was holding a leaf blower. That wouldn’t be hot to her normally, but her hormones were on a rampage lately, and right now, Garret looked hot like summer. He was wearing the same beanie from earlier, thick work pants over worn boots, and a light gray sweater that was so thin, it hugged his ripped shoulder and bicep muscles. His eyes were a bright-teal color, right between blue and green, instead of the stormy blue they had been in the store this morning. The air smelled like fur, but right about now? That was hot too.

She cleared her throat and waved. “Hi. Hello, hi.” She cleared her throat again, trying to stall while her brain caught up and came up with something witty to say.

He just stared at her.

“My mom had a long-time boyfriend who used to mow our yard too.”

“That’s…incredible.” He shifted his weight to the other side. “Um, what’s your step-dad’s name? My dad is named Gary.”

Okay, this guy was so fuckin’ cute. “Gary is a very respectable name. He wasn’t ever my step-dad, but his name was Ha…” The rest of the name got stuck in her throat as an awful memory at the end of his life flashed through her head. She tried again. “Harold.”

“Old school. I like it.” He nodded, looking confused as hell. “Are you here to visit Sasha?”

Raynah twisted to look over at Sasha’s house next door. Her truck was parked in the driveway, which meant she probably had the day off from the hospital. He would be able to hear a lie, so she diverted. “I might ask her to go out later. Hey, do you have…a…recommendation,” she said, desperately trying to think of a way to carry on the conversation. “For chainsaws?”

“Oh.”

“It’s just, you told me before when I met you that Sasha and I should be carrying a chainsaw in the back of our trucks. For windy days, you know. In case a tree falls across the road.” She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and fingered the small envelope she had stuffed in the right one.

His bright-teal eyes drifted toward her little two-door Ford Ranger, and then back to her. “I can give you a list of ones I think you should invest in.”

“Yes. Absolutely, that would be great.” She did not give one single shit about chainsaws, but here was her chance. “Do you want my number?”

“Ummmm…”

“To text me the list?”

His gaze drifted to the swell of her belly and then back to her face, and the expression on his face was completely unreadable. “I’ll just write it down, okay?”

Oh God, she hadn’t done this in so long. She’d been in Cold Foot Prison for years, and was only exposed to the female part of the building and the breeding rooms. Clearly, she didn’t have any game anymore. That, and he definitely wasn’t interested in a pregnant lady. He’d looked at her belly a lot in the store too. Crap. This was so stupid.

“I’m kind of in a hurry now. I’ll just see you around.”

“You don’t want the list? I can write fast. It won’t be as neat, but I can do it.”

Embarrassment scorched her cheeks. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I can find a good chainsaw on the interweb.” She turned and left, shaking her head as she repeated in her mind, the interweb? Stupid.

Of course he didn’t want her number.

“Do you want to see my back porch?” he called.

Well, that stopped her in her tracks. “What?”

He’d traveled to the edge of the driveway now and stood by his truck, while she’d stopped in the middle of the street. “I was just cleaning the snow off my back porch. Do you want to see it? I promise not to serial-kill you.” He offered her a grin. “That was a joke.”

She formed her lips into the shape of a duck beak and glanced at her escape vehicle, parked just a few yards away from her, then back to him. “I like porches.”

“Okay. Maybe come out of the middle of the road so no one hits you. The roads are slick, and sometimes people drive too fast on this road.”

The worry in his voice caused a fluttering sensation somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. She strode back to the edge of his yard and wrapped her jacket closer around herself out of habit, but it didn’t cover her belly.

“I gotta bigger jacket that will cover the baby,” he said, yanking on the door handle of his truck. He pulled out a wool-lined jacket that looked like the miniature one she’d been looking at this morning.

“You have the Carhartt,” she said lamely.

“Yeah, this one is nice and worn in.” He came to a stop in front of her and handed it to her, his eyes intent on hers.

She was pretty chilly. “I’m from Louisiana originally. I get cold here,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Because you’re a crocodile shifter.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” He’d listened when they’d met the first time, and remembered the conversation. “I’ll give it right back after you show me the porch,” she said fast.

“Sure, that’s okay, yep,” he said, equally rushed.

She shrugged out of her jacket and he took it from her, which was way better than her putting it on the ground like she’d planned while she shrugged into his huge jacket. Garret was a good foot and a half taller than her, and had very broad shoulders. The jacket enveloped her. It was cold from sitting in his truck, but it would warm up fast enough thanks to the zipper fastening comfortably right over the mound of her belly. The baby kicked, and she gave a smile. It was his little thank you, she liked to think.

“How do I look?” she teased, holding out her arms. The sleeves hung limply half a foot over her hands, and the jacket reached her knees.

“Beautiful.” He winced. “I mean perfect. Fuck.” He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly. “You look warm.”

She dropped her gaze to hide her smile. He’d said she looked beautiful. It had been a long damn time since anyone had said that to her. She didn’t feel that way at all lately, so hearing the word made her eyes burn with tears. It was probably the hormones.

“Okay, we are going to go this way now,” Garret told her.

There was panic in his bright-teal, glowing eyes when she looked up. “Are you going to Change?”

“I don’t know,” he blurted out. “Maybe.”

“Do you want me to wait on your porch? You can go to the woods.”

“I don’t think…I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about this stuff.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, Reed told me.”

She frowned. Garret was learning shifter rules from Reed? “Where is your Maker?” she asked.

“This way,” he said, and turned abruptly. He strode through the perfect snow of his yard and disappeared around the corner of the house. Okay?

She stepped carefully in his huge boot prints so she didn’t mess up his yard any extra. Slowly, she picked her way down the length of his side yard and to his backyard. It was fenced in on the sides, shielding his yard from the neighbors, but the back was unfenced. Smart. He had direct access to the woods.

“I don’t remember the fences from before,” she said conversationally as he set her jacket over a length of porch railing. The wood looked new, both on the big back porch and the fence. “Are you trying to block the neighbor’s view of your property?”

“No. I’m trying to block my view of theirs. That one in particular,” he said, pointing in the direction of Sasha’s yard.

“Why?” she asked, climbing the stairs to stand beside him.

“I died there,” he said simply.

Oh gosh. Her heart pounded as she looked up at him. His eyes were trained in the exact direction she remembered his grizzly’s body had been lying in the red snow just a few weeks ago. He looked haunted. “That must’ve been hard to see all the time.”

“Not anymore. The blood is all gone now, and I blocked it with the fence,” he said gruffly. “This is my porch—”

“Why didn’t you kill that Komodo dragon?” she asked suddenly. She’d wondered that. She’d seen him, seen his animal…he was monstrous. He could’ve taken Farrah, so why didn’t he?

“She was a woman.” His frown at her said he thought it should’ve been common sense.

“An evil woman.”

“She talked to me before she showed up here. She called me and talked to me. It was nice, and I thought she was nice.” His lips ticked up into an empty smile to match the faraway look in his eyes. “She turned out to be not-so-nice.”

Stunned, Raynah watched him walk across the porch and begin giving her a tour. He was surprising. He’d risked it all to fight Farrah just to give Raynah and Sasha a chance to get away, but he’d refused to kill her. He’d let her kill him instead?

Huh.

Men weren’t like this. This wasn’t right. They weren’t nice like this. This was some kind of angle, and she would figure out his game.

“This is some porch railing, and this is the part I messed up and have to tear down and re-do, and here is a nail that I bent and need to fix, and here is the squeaky board that drives me nuts, and…” He went on picking apart his work, but honestly? The porch looked perfect—like a professional carpenter had done it. Perhaps he was some kind of perfectionist.

“I want to get some chairs and set them right there. Two of them,” he said, pointing to a big open area. “And a barbecue grill when it gets warmer. I’m good on the grill. It’s cold as hell out here right now though, so I mostly use the oven.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Salmon,” he answered without hesitation.

“Ha.” She thought he was making a grizzly bear joke, but his face remained open and honest. “Oh, fish is my favorite too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Fish is first, and steak is a close second. And lately, chocolate-covered raisins are a close third. And potato chips.” She scrunched up her face. “And peanut-butter-banana sandwiches drizzled in honey, with crunched up saltine crackers over the top. And canned clams, but with the juice drained and garlic and parmesan cheese mixed into it and baked in an oven.”

“Does the baby need food?” he asked.

Her mouth was watering just thinking about all of her pregnancy cravings. “Oh, I’m fine. I have some snacks in my truck.”

“That’s a nice truck,” he told her. “It’s good for the weather here. You could put some bags of sand or rocks in the back of it, and the tires will get better traction. It’s a light truck.”

“Okay. It has been slipping a little. I will try that.”

He nodded. “I have saltine crackers and peanut butter, but not the bananas or the chocolate covered raisins.”

She huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I’m really fine.”

“Your stomach growled.” He held his hands out like he was trying to convince her. “You don’t have to come in. It’s not appropriate, and I know that, but I can be back in two minutes with something good, since you like fish.”

“Oh.” He was too hot to say no to. “Okay. It’s not really inappropriate for me to go in your house though.”

“It is. Stay here,” he told her, and left her on the porch, confused.

He probably has a mate . The hiss of her crocodile scared her. The words drifted through her head, but for months, she’d been alone in her mind. Chills rippled up her spine, and Raynah wrapped her arms around her middle like that would keep her pieces together.

His mate is probably very beautiful. They’re probably bonded. That’s why he’s keeping distance. Raynah felt overwhelmed with the presence of her other half. She’d missed this part of herself so much in the months she’d been carrying her pregnancy. She missed Changing. She missed feeling powerful, and pretty. She missed feeling water against her scales.

What her animal said made sense. There was no way Garret didn’t have someone. Not with how he looked. Not with being so sweet and capable. This was the angle. Right? Why else would he talk about her going inside his house being inappropriate?

What was she doing here? She was so pregnant, and spinning out, and her house was grating on her nerves, and she didn’t feel like she deserved any of the good things that had been happening. She was adjusting to life outside of Cold Foot Prison, but she wasn’t handling it well. And now she was seeking attention from a clearly-unavailable male right when she needed to be seeking attention from her own self?

Shaken, Raynah jogged down the porch stairs and bolted for the side of the house. This time she didn’t take the time to step into each boot print.

She made it all the way to the street, where she’d parked, before Garret’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Why are you going?”

“Oh.” She turned, her cheeks burning with a blush. “I just remembered I have to be somewhere. With someone. With a man.”

He had been walking across the yard, her jacket in his hand, but at that, he stopped. He cocked his head and his eyes blazed a lighter teal. “Like a date?”

She couldn’t lie directly or he would hear it, so she danced around the answer. “Oh, I’m just keeping my options open, you know.”

For three seconds he was completely silent, and then he shook his head hard and offered her jacket.

“Oh! Right.” She could’ve kicked herself for forgetting his jacket! She struggled out of his oversized jacket as fast as she could and traded him, but as she took her jacket from his hand, the envelope fell out of her pocket.

Mortified, she lurched downward to grab it, but Garret was faster than her and snatched it off the snow.

“I’ll take that, it’s mine,” she rushed out, reaching for it, but he yanked it easily out of her reach. At his height, she couldn’t reach it unless she jumped.

He took a few steps back. “It says my name.”

“It’s…” How could she explain this. “Look, I just want it back and I’ll go, and we can pretend today didn’t happen. Pretend I was the cool girl at Murdoch’s!”

To her horror, Garret was ripping into the top seam of the envelope.

“No!” she shouted, lunging for it.

He was so damn fast. “A baby shower?”

Raynah pursed her lips and wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole. “Look, I didn’t come here to talk about chainsaws. Not really. I was just going to be nice and give you that invite, but now I feel ridiculous and I don’t really need you there. I was just being polite.”

He glanced at her, and then looked at the other side of the invite where the date and location were printed. “This is in a few days.”

“Can I just have it back?” she asked softly.

“Why?”

“Because it’s inappropriate, like you said. Or,” she said, brightening up as an idea hit her. “You could bring a plus-one. It’s no big deal. Just a little hamburger cookout or something, I’m not sure. The Crew is still planning it. It’ll probably be over in a half an hour, tops. But if you want to bring someone, like a significant other, you totally can.”

“Uh, okay.”

“My plus-one will be there too.” Okay, now she was just making stuff up. Raynah felt like such a loser. She would have to either move out of the country, or possibly pay someone to pretend to be her significant other, or perhaps she would just become a hermit and never talk to anyone ever again because she didn’t know how to do this anymore! The art of flirting had been lost to her during the time she’d spent in prison.

Panicking, she stepped forward and offered her hand for a shake. For a shake? What was she doing? “It was very nice to meet you.”

“We’ve met three times.”

“And I hope to see you around town sometime. Please don’t feel pressured to come. I might cancel the entire thing. In fact, I am definitely considering canceling it.”

“Why?” he asked, shaking her hand slowly.

“Because it’s weird, right?” She asked in a higher pitch than she’d intended. “It’s a prison baby.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he said, and gah! The way he was looking at her—like she was crazy.

“I am crazy,” she assured him out loud. Steady, her crocodile rumbled. Raynah blew out a steadying breath. “Prison baby. I got pregnant in prison.”

“You were in prison?”

Her heart fell to her shoes. “You didn’t know that?”

“How the hell would I know that?” he asked, still shaking her hand slowly. “I tried to look up your social media but I couldn’t find you. I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Furrow. Wait, you looked up my social media?”

“I tried to.”

Her hand tingled where their palms touched. “I don’t have any social media, on account of prison.”

His reaction would be to close down and release her hand, back away and wish her a good day, and then walk away judging her. That was the natural one. The only one that made any sense.

Garret released her hand, but he forgot to do the rest. Instead a slow smile took his lips, and he removed his beanie and ran his hand through his wild hair, his glowing eyes on the ground for a few moments before he looked back up at her. “I bet you have some fun stories.”

“W-what?”

“I spent the night in a drunk tank with some of my friends one time. I met four people in jail that I still think about from time to time. I bet my stories can’t even touch your prison stories.”

“Uuuuuh.” She frowned, waiting for him to tell her to get off his property. “I have a few.”

“I’m real interested in the prison-baby story,” he admitted.

A flash of the Jackal’s face made her heart pound a little harder. “It’s a long story.”

“I don’t have any plans.”

“One I don’t want to ever talk about,” she told him softly. “I’m sorry.”

He looked in the direction of Wreck’s territory. “All the males in the Cold Foot Crew were in prison with you?”

“All but Wreck.”

He nodded, a faraway look in his gaze. “Which one of them is it?”

She didn’t understand. “Which one broke me out?”

“Which one put a prison baby in you?”

“Oh. Oh! No. None of them. Not a single one of the Cold Foot Crew. Nope.”

His teal eyes snapped to her. “Where’s the dad of your kid?”

She inhaled sharply and held her breath, debating on how to answer that. “He’s dead.” She tipped her chin toward Wreck’s territory. “Damon told King that he’s dead.”

“Aw, fuck. Shit. Goddam—sorry.” He stood up straighter and huffed a steadying, frozen breath. “Shoot. I’m so sorry that happened.”

“I’m not,” she said softly.

A slow frown took his face, and he parted his lips to say something, but she interrupted him.

“I’m really messed up. And I’m still trying to find my footing here. It was just really nice to talk to you this morning, and I came here with that invitation as an excuse to try and get more time with that feeling.”

“What feeling?” he asked.

“Like I’m normal. I felt that this morning, and it was kind of nice.”

“You seem normal to me,” he said. There was truth in his voice, and God bless that man for it.

A smile took her face, and she ducked her gaze so he wouldn’t see the blush growing in her cheeks.

“I don’t think I should come to the baby shower though.” There it was.

“I understand,” she uttered quietly.

“It’s Wreck’s territory, and I’m…”

“I get it.”

“I’m just…”

“It’s totally understandable.”

“Damon has already called me and chewed me out for existing in this territory with no registration, and I’m just trying to keep to myself. I need to stay out of trouble.”

“Yeah.” She nodded and looked up at him, forced her smile. “See you around, okay?”

He nodded slightly, and she took her leave.

“You aren’t crazy, you know,” he called. “But you’re definitely trouble.”

She resisted turning around. She was not trying to be trouble.

Trouble just kind of followed her.

It always had.