Page 17 of Horned to be Wild (Harmony Glen #7)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T orin tucked Lila tighter against his side, filled with a lazy satisfaction he’d never experienced before.

She looked so small nestled against his side, but the way she had taken all of him, her body stretching to accommodate him, still amazed him.

She stirred, her hand stroking his chest, and he felt himself start to harden again.

His desire for her seemed insatiable, but she needed to rest. To his surprise, her hand didn’t stop at his chest, but kept moving, sliding down his stomach until her fingers curved around his cock.

“Again?” he said hopefully, and she laughed.

“My greedy male. As tempting as that is, I think you might have ruined me.” Her hand squeezed gently, then she frowned. “You seem to be getting bigger.”

“You’re touching me.”

“Then I suppose I’d better stop.”

She smiled up at him and his heart overflowed with tenderness. If only he could find the words to tell her how much she meant to him… But perhaps he could show her instead.

“Let’s go into town today,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could reconsider.

She gave him a surprised look. “Town? You mean… together?”

He nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. “Together.”

For someone who had rarely ventured beyond his woods except to deliver wood or pick up supplies, it was far outside his comfort zone. A soft smile curved her lips as understanding dawned in her eyes.

“I’d like that,” she said simply, not making a fuss about what they both knew was a significant gesture.

He’d washed and dried the clothes she’d worn the night before, and she accepted them happily before vanishing into the bathroom. He heard the shower come on and his cock jerked. He would gladly have followed her, but he’d promised her a trip to town.

Instead he took Mabel outside and settled her in her pen with fresh hay and water.

The ground was scattered with debris from the storm but none of his buildings had suffered any structural damage.

Unlike her cottage, he thought, wincing.

As soon as they returned, he’d start on the repairs.

Of course, as long as her cottage was uninhabitable, she’d have no choice but to stay with him.

Would she stay with him, he wondered. If she had a choice.

In spite of what she’d said the previous night, he wasn’t sure he had the courage to ask.

She appeared in the doorway just as he finished raking branches out of the driveway. In the pretty dress, with her hair piled on top of her head, she looked so sweet and innocent that it was almost impossible to believe that she’d taken every inch of him.

“Stop that,” she said playfully as she came to join him.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking about last night. You’re just going to have to wait until tonight.”

The casual assurance that they would be spending another evening together made his chest ache. He wanted to tell her how happy she’d made him but as usual the words wouldn’t come. He kissed her instead, kissed her until she was breathless and quivering when he finally raised his head.

“Well, maybe just until this afternoon,” she said breathlessly, and he laughed. He actually laughed, happier than he’d been in a very long time.

He kept her hand tucked in his as they walked over to his truck, but she suddenly came to a dead halt, then burst into laughter. She was laughing so hard, she could barely stand.

“What?” he growled, suddenly self-conscious.

“‘Horned to Be Wild’?” she managed between gasps, indicating a bumper sticker he’d forgotten was there—a cartoonish minotaur astride a motorcycle, the ridiculous slogan emblazoned beneath.

Heat crawled up his neck as embarrassment flooded his system. The sticker had been a joke gift from the town mechanic years ago. He’d slapped it on, amused at the time by its absurdity, then promptly forgotten about it.

“I didn’t—it’s not—” he sputtered, uncharacteristically flustered.

Her laughter was infectious though, bright and genuine, with no trace of mockery. Despite himself, he felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

“I never took you for the bumper sticker type,” she teased, wiping her eyes.

“Hmph,” he grunted, as he lifted her into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s side. “It was a gift.”

“It’s perfect,” she declared, still giggling. “Absolutely perfect.”

The ride into town was punctuated by her occasional renewed chuckles and whispered “Horned to be wild” whenever she caught his eye. Each time, his embarrassment lessened, replaced by a warm glow at the sound of her happiness.

Even in the aftermath of the storm, the town square bustled with weekend activity as they parked. He felt eyes turn in their direction as soon as they got out of the truck, and he stiffened, fighting the urge to retreat.

“Hey,” she said softly, her hand finding his forearm. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”

Her touch anchored him. “No. I want to.”

They walked side by side, not quite touching but close enough that her arm occasionally brushed against his. Each point of contact sent a ripple of awareness through him.

“So, Horny,” she whispered conspiratorially, “where to first?”

He nearly choked. “Don’t call me that.”

“What about Wild One? Road Warrior? Biker Bull?”

A reluctant chuckle escaped him. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s why you like me,” she replied, her eyes dancing with mischief.

And he did. Gods help him, he did—more than he’d ever thought possible.

The realization struck him with sudden clarity as they walked through town.

Her laughter, her teasing, her unwavering support—she’d woven herself into the fabric of his life so completely that he couldn’t imagine a day without her.

They browsed the farmer’s market, where Lila charmed the vendors and somehow managed to make his imposing presence seem ordinary.

They sampled local honey and artisanal breads.

At the craft stalls, several people actually complimented the library murals, leaving him stunned at being recognized for his carving rather than his wood deliveries.

“How do they know?” he asked her.

She hesitated, then put her hand on his arm again. “Apparently most of the town knew about it.”

“But no one said anything.”

“I doubt you gave anyone an opportunity,” she said dryly.

As usual she was right, but he still wrestled with the knowledge that his secret wasn’t as his secret as he’d always assumed.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of small, precious moments. Her hand occasionally found his, her shoulder leaning against him when they stopped to look at something. The tension in his body gradually uncoiled, replaced by a lightness he hadn’t felt in years.

She was admiring a display of local pottery when the vendor, a tiny goblin with a cheerful grin, handed her a flyer.

“Have you heard about the Art Fair? We run it the same day as the Harvest Festival, over there on the boardwalk.” The male jerked his thumb at the wide wooden pathway bordering the lake. “You should set up a booth. Both of you.”

He froze, but Lila only smiled and took the flyer.

“Thank you. We’ll think about it.”

He was still struggling with the shock as they walked back towards his truck, and she linked her arm through his, smiling up at him.

“I think we should do it.”

“Do what?” he asked, even though he already knew.

“Enter the Art Fair. A booth for my paintings and a booth for your carvings.”

“But-”

“And before you say they’re not, remember that he invited both of us.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because you’re incredibly talented and you’re the only one who doesn’t realize it?”

Despite the teasing note in her voice, he knew she meant it. It was the idea that others might think so as well that really shocked him.

“I’ll think about it,” he said at last, echoing her words.

“Good.”

He was still struggling with the idea when they returned to his truck a short time later. He lifted her into the passenger seat and she put her hand on his face before he could move away.

“Thank you for today,” she said simply.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did everything.” She looked up at him, her eyes soft. “You stepped outside your comfort zone. For me.”

He swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the simple joy of having her with him, of knowing that she wanted him at her side.

“Let’s go check on your cottage,” he said gruffly.

They drove back towards her cottage, the comfortable silence between them filled with unspoken affection. She hummed softly to the radio, occasionally glancing at him with a smile that made his heart stutter.

As they rounded the final bend to her cottage, his entire body tensed.

A gleaming sports car waited in her driveway—sleek, expensive, and utterly out of place in Harmony Glen. Its polished surface reflected the sunlight like an alien intrusion into their peaceful world.

“What the hell?” she muttered, her back suddenly rigid.

He parked next to the car, a sinking feeling spreading through his chest.

A human male unfolded himself from the driver’s seat—tall, lean, and immaculately dressed in what was clearly an expensive suit.

His hair was perfectly styled, his posture radiating the confidence of someone accustomed to getting his way.

One glance was all Torin needed to know that this was Lila’s ex.

“Lila, darling!” the man called, his voice carrying a practiced charm that scraped against Torin’s ears like fingernails on slate. “I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“Jeremy,” she said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

Jeremy spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “Rescuing you, of course.” His eyes flicked dismissively over Torin, not even registering him as anything significant, before returning to Lila. “This quaint little delusion has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

He remained frozen in place as Jeremy continued, each word a precisely aimed dagger.

“Your exhibition pieces have been gathering dust. Phillip at the gallery has been asking after you.” Jeremy approached her, completely ignoring Torin’s presence.

“It’s time to come back to the city, where your real talent can be appreciated.

This charming rustic phase has served its purpose, I’m sure, but you don’t actually belong here. ”

You don’t belong here. Everything he’d feared, everything he’d tried to ignore, laid bare by this stranger who knew her world in ways he never could.

“I’ve made arrangements at your old studio,” Jeremy continued, his tone suggesting he was conferring a great favor. “There’s been considerable interest from some serious collectors.”

Serious collectors . Real appreciation for her talent.

All the things he couldn’t give her. All the things this polished man with his expensive car represented.

Jeremy finally turned to acknowledge him with a practiced smile that never reached his eyes. “I’m sure your… friend… understands that this is where your future lies.”

Ice crystallized in his veins. His jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack. The perfect morning, the laughter, the sense of possibility—all of it crumbled under the weight of this man’s casual certainty.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he couldn’t bear to hear her response. Couldn’t bear to watch her choose, to see the recognition dawn that Jeremy was right.

A strangled sound escaped his throat—not quite a word, not quite a growl. Without looking at either of them, he turned and plunged into the woods, his long strides carrying him back to the solitude that had been his only constant companion.

Behind him, he thought he heard Lila call his name, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. His chest felt like it was being crushed in a vise, each breath a struggle against the certainty that had taken root.

She deserved the city. She deserved recognition. She deserved everything her talent could bring her.

And he was just a lumberjack with a gift for whittling. A minotaur in the woods. A novelty with a ridiculous bumper sticker.

The words echoed in his head with each pounding footstep: She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong with you.

By the time he was halfway to his cabin, his breath was coming in ragged gasps, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollowness spreading through him. He’d allowed himself to hope, to believe that someone like Lila could choose someone like him, could choose this life.

But the truth had arrived in a gleaming sports car, reminding him of what he’d always known.

He wasn’t enough. He would never be enough.