4. Iris

It takes me a solid four tries to walk out of the house the day of my date with Thorne.

Not a date.

It's not a date, Iris.

It can't be a date. Handsome men like Thorne don't ask girls like me on dates. They go for pretty, curvy girls like Jenni, or glossy, well-groomed girls from the city.

They don't ask wildlife rehab vets who are usually covered in about six different types of animal hair to go on dates.

They don't look at girls like me, who have no makeup and barely any breasts to speak of, to go on dates.

Not that I'm super insecure about that. I like my body. It's tough and strong and can help birth a cow, and then go for a fifteen-mile hike the next day.

It's just kind of… science. Like, I've seen mating rituals among animals enough to recognize that males have preferences. They look for females that are lush, fertile. Ones that give the illusion (or not illusion, I guess) of fecundity.

Human males just don't prefer girls who look like me.

I have about ten years of dating experience, and twenty-five years of life experience, that tell me that.

I should be happy that he asked me to talk about wildlife rescue in the area. Lord knows that I can't do it alone. With all the people moving to this area from Denver and beyond, it feels like there's some kind of issue with local wildlife every day now.

I have to admit that I could use the help.

But if he helps, and he's sexy and smart and cute, why will people want to be around you?

I shut the thought down, even as it makes my chest ache.

I'm not going on a date. I'm going to meet up with a fellow biologist, someone who knows what they're doing.

I'm going to talk shop. With a colleague.

I've never had a colleague that handsome before.

I grab my keys, ready to open the door, when movement catches my eye. Just behind my car, there's a little pile of rocks. I'm not sure why or how they got there, but I wasn't about to touch them when I moved in. I walk around the car, peering into one of the cracks as I look at what caused the movement. Surprisingly, there's a familiar looking face peeking at me from one of the rock piles.

There's no way…

I kneel down, looking at the beady black eyes blinking at me. "Little ermine?"

The ermine moves cautiously forward.

He could be a different one, but my eyes go to his side. I stitched him up as best I could, but I still left a little scar.

Sure enough, there's a bump in his smooth, white and brown summer coat.

I blink "How…"

Jenni had released the ermine a week ago. I'd asked her about it the day after my hike.

How had he followed me here? I live at least ten miles from the rehab center.

The ermine blinks at me, its little black nose whiffling, and it darts back under the rock.

Huh.

I'm definitely confused, but my heart feels a little brighter. I had been worried about the little guy for the past week, so while I have no idea why or how he followed me home, I'm kind of glad he did.

It feels like a good sign. I can handle this (not a date) meeting with Thorne. I can make room for another wildlife rehab in the area.

And I can still continue to live the life I've come to love so much.

Making sure the ermine isn't anywhere near my tire, I climb into my car.

I wonder if Thorne knows anything about ermine. They're pretty secretive, and I know their research base is pretty small…. I pull the door shut, musing about the little guy.

The 4Runner's door slams a little too hard, and it jars me out of my thoughts. I start her up, trying to clear my thoughts as I begin the drive into town.

Not a date.

I repeat the words like a mantra.

The drive into town is over all too soon, and when I pull up to the Oakwood Café, I notice that I'm about ten minutes early.

Perfect.

I'll have enough time to say hi to Max, who runs the dinner shift, and settle in to my favorite table. Then it definitely won't look like a date, because if I get there early, I'm clearly there for business, and I can even pull out my phone and look like I'm reading something related to our conversation. Idly, I wonder if Max will have that veggie pot pie that I'm such a fan of. I gather my coat and my keys, then head on in.

The Oakwood Café, like many businesses in town, is kind of a throwback. The main downtown strip of Oakwood was built in the late 1800s to accommodate the needs of all the miners in the area. At its biggest, Oakwood was a town of nearly fifteen thousand people.

Now, there's probably around two thousand of us who live here year-round.

The downtown buildings all have big wood fronts that face the street and continue in a rectangle stretching back. Most of the places are live/work combos, since that was handy to people back in the day, so Max lives above the restaurant with his husband James.

I open the door and I'm greeted by the familiar sight of pine floors, pine walls, and an antique tin ceiling with squares pressed in tiny floral designs.

Familiar is good. I come here for dinner at least three nights a week, so I'm definitely feeling at home as I walk in.

Max waves at me from the bar. "Hey, Iris."

"Hi Max!"

He jerks his head. "Your guest is here."

I freeze.

Sitting in my usual seat is a familiar hulking shape.

In the split second before Thorne turns, I take him in. He's wearing a worn, comfortable looking blue-and-green checked flannel. His hair is slicked back and still kind of wet, like he recently got out of the shower. I can see the dark strands of it curling already, like it refuses to be contained.

When he turns, his amber eyes glint at me.

My heart thumps in response.

The edges of his lips twitch, like he's resisting the urge to smile. "Iris," he rumbles.

My feet move toward him like they're not connected to my body. Suddenly, I'm right next to him.

He smells good.

Cedar, I think. Something like cedar, and a deep smell that I can't place.

"Thorne," I gulp around the lump in my throat.

He stands, and I watch with wide eyes as he walks over to the opposite chair. "Here," he says, pulling it out.

Oh.

Um.

Not a date, Iris. This is not a date.

"Thanks," I say lamely. I sit, not sure if I'm supposed to let him scoot me in, or if I should scoot in…

Thorne's biceps flex on either side of me, answering my question. He moves the chair like I weigh absolutely nothing.

Notadatenotadatenotadate…

"So. Iris," he says, settling back in his chair. "What will you have to drink?"

Shoot.

I think this might be a date.

Despite the factthat I'm so nervous I can hardly think straight, eventually, I start to relax a little.

Thorne is….

Nice.

And the two vodka sodas that I've had help a little.

I'm considering whether or not I should order a third when Thorne lets out a little huff. "I guess we should order some food."

"We could," I say, draining the last of the alcohol from my glass.

"What's good here?"

I shrug. "I'm surprised you haven't been yet. It's pretty much the only thing that's open in the shoulder seasons."

September is fast ending, and the tourists have emptied out mostly. The summer restaurants have closed, and Oakwood Café is mostly for locals.

"I prefer to cook at home," he says in a low voice.

Pretending that voice doesn't send goosebumps shivering over my skin, I nod. "Same. But Max makes a pretty decent vegetarian menu."

"You're vegetarian?"

I swear there's a note of disappointment in his voice.

I fold my arms and narrow my eyes at him. "Maybe."

"Why? Don't tell me you're one of those?—"

I cut him off. "First, people get to choose whatever they put in their bodies. So, no matter what my reasons for being vegetarian are, they're valid."

Thorne's eyes glitter. "Okay. True. Continue."

"Second… Well, that's it. I don't force my choices on anyone, but I rescue animals for a living, so it's a valid lifestyle for me."

"That, it is," he muses.

"So. Yes. I usually order the vegetarian pot pie here. But I have heard that the fried chicken is good, and Max can cook a mean steak."

Max comes over, nodding at Thorne. "Thorne."

"Max."

How do they know each other if Thorne hasn't eaten here? Small town, I guess.

"What'll it be?"

"Two vegetarian pot pies," Thorne says, holding up two fingers.

Max nods and walks away.

I nibble on my bottom lip. "Two?"

"What can I say. I'm a sucker for ethical meat talk."

I laugh.

Thorne grins at me. "You have a nice laugh."

The compliment catches me off guard. "Oh. Um. Thank you."

He tilts his head. The motion is so canine, I'm almost reminded of a dog.

Or a wolf.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"When I said you have a nice laugh, you act… surprised."

Max sets down another vodka, and I sip it. "No one has ever complimented my laugh before."

"I see," he says, sipping his own beer. "What if I told you that you also have beautiful eyes."

I look down. "No one has said that before either."

Thorne makes a rumbling sound. "Iris, I get the impression that you don't get a lot of compliments."

"Maybe. I mean, I get why," I say. My napkin is in my lap, and I wring it into a little circle.

"Why?"

"Oh, you know. I'm…" I gesture to myself. "There are a lot of beautiful women in the world."

"And you're not one of them?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm not. But I'm smart and I really love animals and…"

"You're beautiful, Iris," he says.

I glance up. "What?"

He leans forward. The look he's giving me is so intense, I feel my spine prickle with something that sends heat through my veins.

"I don't know what humans you're around, but you, Iris, are a gorgeous woman. It's nice that you're smart. But just on looks alone. You are extremely beautiful."

I look away. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not," he growls.

My napkin is getting smaller as I wrap it around itself. "It's okay Thorne, you don't have to lie…"

He growls again. "Iris. Remember how when I walked into the clinic, I stood there like an idiot?"

I blink at him. "Yeah, I guess."

"That was you. You were so beautiful; you took my breath away."

I feel the blush creeping up my neck. "Thorne. It's okay. I know I'm not the type of woman that people feel like that about…"

"Feel like what? Like a woman someone wants to fuck?"

His coarse language makes the blush flush all the way up into my cheeks. "Hush, Max will hear…"

"That I'd fuck you, if you give me the chance? Good. Let him," Thorne growls.

"Thorne…"

"I don't want to talk about how to fix broken animals, Iris," he says in a voice so low I almost can't hear it. "I asked you on this date because I think you're sexy as hell, and for some reason, I can't stay away from you."

I can't help it. My eyes dart out to look at him, and I bite my bottom lip.

His irises have expanded. The way Thorne is looking at me, I feel…

Pinned.

Not in a bad way.

But like I'm the center of his focus.

I shiver. Then, I realize what he said.

"You asked me on a date?"

His lips curl in a smile that makes my stomach heat.

"I sure did, Iris."

"Oh," I say.

Max sets down our food and walks away. Thorne leans back, studying me. "Considering I didn't do a good job explaining, I guess this isn't going well."

"Define going well," I say, sinking a fork into the puff pastry. I hold it up to my mouth, noticing how Thorne's eyes follow the food.

When I part my lips to bite into it, I swear I hear him groan.

"If it goes really well, I'd like to go back to your place," he states.

The confidence. The arrogance. The dominance. I open my mouth to protest, but instead of the denial that I am considering, something else happens instead.

"Okay," I whisper.

Thorne's eyes flash.

The meal goes kind of quietly from there. Thorne and I talk, but it feels small and insignificant compared to what we've already said.

He follows me home.

When I get out of the car, Thorne is already there, frowning at it. "How old is this thing?"

"Well, I was born in the same year as this car so… twenty-five?"

His eyes narrow. "You need a new car."

"No. This one works."

"This is a lawsuit waiting to happen."

"Thorne," I say, tucking my arms to look at him. "I have a huge loan for the clinic. I don't need a new car."

His nostrils flare.

A flash of white catches my eye. The ermine darts across my driveway, his white belly flaring in the moonlight.

Thorne startles. "What was that?"

"An ermine. He seems to have followed me home from the center somehow," I say with a smile.

"Interesting."

"I know. I've had a lot of interesting wildlife encounters lately," I say.

"Like what?"

Thinking of the wolf and the bear, I shake my head. "Nothing. Do you want to come in?"

Thorne tilts his head. His lips curl.

"Yes."

Nervously, I open the door. Oh god. My place is a mess. I haven't cleaned it.

I need to tell him to go.

I spin. "Thorne I?—"

Any protest I have is cut off by his lips.

He's kissing me.

Thorne, handsome, manly Thorne.

Is kissing me.

That's the last clear thought I have. Because when Thorne's hands cup my face, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss, I can't think of anything else.

It's only him.

It's only this.

I moan, and he gently walks us backward. The door closes behind him.

Pulling back from his lips, I whisper, "You have to push it. The lock is…"

Thorne spins, making a rumbling noise. I hear the door click shut.

Then he's back.

Apparently, extremely hot men get really good at kissing.

Or maybe it's just Thorne.

He makes my skin feel like it's on fire. Everywhere his hands touch, everywhere his lips land, I feel like I'm going to explode.

Like I'm burning up.

For him.

His lips move down my neck. "Do you believe me now, iris?"

"What?" I gasp.

"That I think you're fine as hell."

"Um. I…"

His hand shoots out and grabs mine. He presses it against the bulge in his jeans, and I gasp.

Loudly.

"See what you do to me, Iris," Thorne whispers. His hands skate up my sides, tugging at my shirt. "I want you. I want you so badly, I'm willing to break every last rule for you."

"Rules?" I pant.

One of his hands finds my breast. I'm distracted, because I feel like I should say something. "I know I don't have much there," I whisper.

Thorne pinches my nipple and I gasp.

"Show me, Iris," he whispers. His amber eyes are almost glowing as he looks at me.

"Show me what you have, and I'll show you how fucking crazy it makes me."