the small copse of trees in front of what she could now see was a log structure, not large, but larger than Driscoll’s place. Huh. If Driscoll had two places on his property, why would he choose the smaller of the two?
She stopped in front of it, grabbed her shotgun, and hopped out. Before she could talk herself out of it, she climbed the three steps to Lucas’s front door, and rapped twice, her breath labored even though she hadn’t exerted herself with the short walk.
The door swung open and he was standing there, bigger and more imposing than she remembered him, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She stepped back, and he did too. She met his eyes, the shock on his face clear.
Harper cleared her throat, propping the shotgun on the small porch. His eyes followed it, then he looked back to her. “Where did you get that locket?” she blurted.
He stared at her for a long moment, and then tilted his head, his dark brows dipping.
“Tell me.”
He looked behind her to where her truck was parked and then slowly back to her as if trying to understand the situation. His head turned toward the small grouping of trees and he muttered something under his breath before stepping forward, directly into her.
Harper sucked in a breath, a small sound of surprised fear rising to her throat as he took her forearms in his hands, moved her aside easily, and walked past her. She whipped around to see him hop down the steps and prowl toward the trees.
What . . .
She watched him for a moment, immobile with surprise. He crouched down and started moving the snow with his arm, speaking words she was now too far away to hear.
She moved slowly down the steps, walking toward him, uncertain and completely baffled.
As the crunch of her footsteps sounded in the snow, he looked over his shoulder and then back at whatever he was doing, continuing to clear something. She leaned forward and pulled in a startled breath when she saw four sets of eyes peering back at her, shiny in the dim light, but not so dim that she couldn’t see what they were. Foxes. Babies. She took in her own tire tracks right next to the den and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. She’d driven her truck right over a den of baby foxes. “I didn’t know they were there.”
He stood, turning toward her. She couldn’t read the expression on his face, and they stood looking at each other for an awkward moment.
She shook her head. “God, I’m so stupid. I bring people out to the wilderness for my job, and I should know better.”
He stared at her again, an infinitesimal narrowing of his eyes. But he didn’t contradict her.
“Your feet are bare,” she finally said. Stupidly. “They must be cold,” she added. Even more stupidly. Which, at this point, should be my middle name, she thought with an internal grimace. She pressed her lips together, embarrassed, and uneasy.
He simply stared at her for a moment and then turned toward his house.
She glanced at the fox den and with the snow cleared, she could see it was only four baby foxes, no mother. She must be out hunting. They were still covered in the snow her reckless driving had caused to cave in on them, and they had to be cold. A tremor of guilt went through her. Concern for the helpless things.
Lucas had cared about them too. He’d run out there to make sure they weren’t suffocating to death.
“Will they be okay?” she called, knowing it was better not to touch them, knowing it would risk their mother smelling a predator, and abandoning the den. Still . . . to leave them that way, cold and wet and alone . . .
He slowed and turned his head slightly. “They will be, or they won’t. Better to let their mother do the job now. If she’s still alive.”
If. She knew he was right, still she hesitated, watching as he climbed his short set of steps. He was going to go back inside his house. “Wait,” she called. It only took her a few seconds to jog back to his house and climb the steps to the porch where he had turned and was watching her, that same thin-lipped expression on his face. He looked more . . . normal now without the layer of animal skins. Just a large, muscular man with several visible scars, longish