Page 10 of Horned to be Wild (Harmony Glen #7)

CHAPTER TEN

A s Lila stepped into Cool Beans, the bustling Harmony Glen coffee shop, the bells above the door announced her arrival with a cheerful jingle.

After two days of cutting back the vines and bushes surrounding her cottage in preparation for the siding work, Torin had told her that he needed to spend the day delivering wood.

His obvious reluctance made it clear he wasn’t retreating again, and she’d decided that maybe a day apart was a good thing.

Their developing relationship—whatever it was—had left her feeling both giddy and unsettled.

He hadn’t touched her again the way he had on the porch, but the memory of it lingered between them, charging each casual touch, each quick glance.

He’d kissed her—more than once—but he always pulled back before things could escalate, leaving her frustrated and aching.

The knowledge that he was equally as frustrated was small consolation.

Despite that, she wouldn’t have missed any of their time together.

She loved being with him, whether they were discussing artistic principles or working on the cottage or just sitting on the porch with a glass of wine.

She loved cooking for him and eating with him, and she especially loved teasing him into giving her that small half-smile he seemed to reserve just for her.

She’d spent the day working in her studio, trying to channel her jumbled thoughts into something productive.

But her thoughts kept returning to the feeling of his mouth on hers, the sensation of his hands on her body, and the overwhelming desire that surged through her whenever he was near.

By late afternoon, she’d had enough and decided to come into town in search of a friendly face.

The warm aroma of fresh coffee enveloped her as she joined the line, mentally reviewing her to-do list. Now that they’d cleared away the vegetation they could actually start on the siding.

Well, mainly Torin can start on it , she thought ruefully.

She helped as much as she could but he did most of the work.

Her thoughts drifted back to his big capable hands, the way his muscles flexed beneath his russet fur, the rare smile that transformed his usually guarded face.

I’m in so much trouble , she thought as she paid for her coffee.

Etta had been right—she was falling for the grumpy minotaur.

He occupied her thoughts in a way that no man ever had, and her body ached for him.

The fact that he was a minotaur didn’t matter to her.

What mattered was that he was kind, thoughtful, and talented, not to mention extremely sexy.

“Lila!”

The sound of her name brought her back to the present and she looked over to see Marigold waving at her from a corner table. She was sitting with an older, blue-haired woman with green slit-pupiled eyes behind a pair of rhinestone-studded glasses.

“Lila, this is Mrs. Grable. She’s the librarian at the elementary school. Mrs. Grable, this is Lila.”

The older woman frowned up at her as Marigold made the introductions, then broke out in a broad smile.

“You must be Eleanor’s niece.”

“Her great niece, but yes, I am.” She suddenly realized that her great aunt had mentioned the other woman in her letters. “And you must be Betty.”

Mrs. Grable laughed. “It’s actually Anne, but Eleanor would have her little joke. Won’t you join us?”

They chatted amicably as people flowed in and out of the coffee shop, the usual variety of monsters and humans.

She was used to Harmony Glen’s diverse population by now, although she did blink a little when Mrs. Grable introduced her to the handsome gorgon who ran the children’s program at the public library, his snakes wearing tiny navy bow ties.

I’m definitely going to have to tell Etta about him , she thought as she watched him leave.

“The public library has a delightful children’s area,” Mrs. Grable sighed. “Unlike my library.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Structurally it’s fine, but it’s an old building and the space is just tired and a little dreary. Marigold is sweet enough to bring in flowers every week, but I’ve been trying to think of other ways to brighten it up.”

Marigold blushed at the older woman’s praise, but gave Lila a thoughtful look. “I’m more than happy to provide the flowers, but maybe Lila could make some suggestions. Maybe painting it a different color? It’s all beige right now.”

“Color would definitely help,” she agreed, “but maybe we can do more…”

Both women leaned forward eagerly as an idea took shape in her mind.

“What if we added some murals? And not just any murals, but ones that transported the children into their favorite stories?”

Mrs. Gable immediately nodded. “Go on.”

“Picture this,” she said, grabbing a napkin and sketching as she talked.

“A series of murals based on classic children’s books—The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; The Little Prince; The Secret Garden; The Hobbit.

Each one full of color and detail.” Her pencil flew across the napkin.

“But here’s what would make them truly special—each mural would be framed by an intricately carved wooden doorway so it looks as if the children could literally step through into the story world.

The wood carvings would have elements from each book—a lamppost and faun footprints for Narnia, a robin and keys for The Secret Garden… ”

“That sounds absolutely magical,” Mrs. Gable breathed. “But who could possibly create such detailed woodwork? I’m afraid we don’t have the budget to pay for something like that. About the best I can do is to offer to pay for the materials.”

“Actually,” she said slowly, “I think I might know someone who could do it.”

It would give Torin a chance to share his talent with the world, to realize just how special it was. She knew he would never do it on his own, but if she asked him to work on it with her… Would he say yes?

Mrs. Grable reached over and grabbed her hand. “Would you really do this? Could your wood carver friend help?”

“I…” she hesitated, knowing Torin’s reluctance to share his art. “Let me talk to him. I can’t promise, but?—”

“I understand it’s a lot to ask, but even one mural would be wonderful. Would you like to come by the school and see the space? Maybe make some measurements?” Mrs. Grable asked hopefully.

She grinned at the older woman’s enthusiasm, and nodded. “All right, but don’t count your chickens just yet.”

The library was just as Mrs. Grable had described it—functional but very plain. She wandered around taking measurements and making notes in her sketchbook, her mind buzzing with ideas.

“I would start by painting the walls sky blue to bring in the outside and make a background for the murals. Then we should put the door to The Secret Garden on this wall between the windows so it looks as if you could just step outside into it. And The Hobbit door should go down here beneath the steps.”

By the time she left the school, her mind was overflowing with images and ideas. This was perfect—a chance to create something magical for the children, and just as importantly, a chance for Torin’s incredible work to be seen and appreciated.

She practically ran down the path to his cabin, excitement propelling her forward.

When she reached his clearing, she found him splitting logs, muscles rippling across his broad back with each swing, a sheen of sweat darkening his fur.

The sight of him made her heart flip, and she barely noticed Mabel running towards her.

Before she had a chance to greet him, he turned towards her, his nostrils flaring. The heat in his eyes sent a shiver up her spine as he stalked towards her.

“I missed you today,” he growled as he reached for her, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her against his chest. His tail swished back and forth, wrapping around her ankle as he dipped his head to capture her lips.

His kiss was hungry and demanding, and she surrendered to it, letting him claim her before he finally pulled back, smiling down at her. “How was your day?”

“Wonderful! I have the most amazing idea,” she said, breathless from the kiss and her excitement. “The elementary school library needs murals, and I thought we could?—”

He immediately tensed. “ We? ”

“Yes, we! My paintings with your wood carvings.” She pulled out her sketchbook to show him her ideas. “Look—each mural would have one of your carved frames, like a doorway into the story world. Can you imagine how the children would react? It would be magical.”

His expression darkened, the softness she’d glimpsed vanishing behind a familiar wall. “No.”

“No?” She stared up at him. “But you could?—”

“No. You don’t need my carvings,” he said gruffly, turning away and starting to stack the split logs. “You can paint murals without my ‘whittling.’”

The bitterness in his voice when he said “whittling” made her heart ache. “This isn’t whittling. This is art. Your art.”

“I’m just a lumberjack,” he muttered. “That’s all they see.”

“Because that’s all you’ve let them see!” She put her hand on his arm, and he tensed but didn’t push her away. “Your carvings are extraordinary. They tell stories, capture emotion—they’re magic, Torin.”

He shook his head, but she could see the flicker of longing in his eyes.

“Please,” she said softly. “Just take a look at my ideas.”

Reluctantly, he took her sketchbook and flipped through her drawings—Narnia’s lamppost in a snowy wood, the round door to the Hobbit Hole, the vines curling around the handle of The Secret Garden, and the roses for The Little Prince.

“These are…” he paused, his finger tracing the outline of a doorway. “These are good.”

“And you could bring them to life. Your art deserves to be seen.” She could see the longing on his face as he stared down at the drawings. “What if… what if no one knows it’s yours?”

His head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to sign them. You don’t even have to be there for the installation.

Nobody needs to know who made them except me and you.

” She would much rather have announced his genius to the world, but if this was what it took to make him comfortable…

“Your work will speak for itself, even if your name isn’t on it. The children will love it.”

“You really think they’ll like it?”

“I know they will.”

He was silent for a long moment, his internal struggle visible in the tension of his shoulders and the nervous flick of his tail. His resolve was weakening; she could see it in the softening around his eyes. But still he hesitated.

“No one needs to know it’s you,” she repeated gently. “But your art deserves to breathe, to live in the world. Not just in your workshop.”

He looked down at her, then, with a sigh that seemed to come from deep in his soul, he nodded.

“All right,” he said roughly. “But with conditions.”

“Name them.”

“We work on them here in my workshop. I don’t… I don’t want the town watching.”

“Of course,” she agreed immediately, understanding his need for privacy. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“I don’t want to go to the school, and my name stays off them.”

Her heart ached but she nodded. “If that’s what you want.” She smiled, then, and reached for his hand. “Thank you.”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “You’re hard to say no to.”

“Then don’t say no again,” she said, rising up on tiptoes to kiss him.

“I won’t,” he whispered, and then his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her with the same hunger as before, his huge arms lifting her off her feet.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he groaned, one hand slipping beneath her shirt to caress the smooth skin of her back, his touch sending shivers of delight racing across her skin. When his hand slipped under the waistband of her shorts to cup her ass, she gasped into his mouth.

He immediately pulled away, setting her gently back on her feet. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I told you—I want you to touch me.”

“But I’m so much bigger than you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He was right about the size difference of course, but she suspected it wasn’t the only reason for his hesitation. Deciding he’d overcome enough hurdles for one day, she simply smiled up at him.

“I know you’d never, ever hurt me.” She hoped he could hear the conviction in her voice. “Now when do you want to start?”

“Tomorrow,” he said gruffly. “I’ll think about your ideas tonight.”

“All right, but I hope that’s not all you think about tonight.”

She deliberately trailed her hand over his erection as she turned to go, smiling when he groaned and his cock jerked beneath her touch. Soon , she promised herself as she walked back to her cottage.