Sweet Mercy - Lynn Hagen Page 0,6

too many enemies, had pissed off a lot of people along the way. He didn’t need them tracking him down to this Podunk town, and he definitely didn’t need Mercy caught in the crosshairs.

* * * *

With his running shorts on and the morning still dark, Ford took off down the driveway and headed down the road. He hadn’t known any shifters who enjoyed running, not while in their human form, but it helped him clear his head, and he loved the adrenaline that pumped through him.

He couldn’t take as long as he wanted to. Ranch workers got up at the crack of dawn to start their day, and soon the men he shared the bunkhouse with would be up and moving around.

But this was Ford’s quiet time, a moment to himself that he thoroughly enjoyed. It was almost like therapy to him and cleared away a lot of the haunting memories he tried desperately to forget.

He normally liked to run while listening to music, but Ford was on a job, and he needed to keep an eye on his surroundings. He was also on a road, and the last thing he needed was to get hit because he hadn’t heard the approaching vehicle or the driver wasn’t paying attention.

He jogged a mile down the road, stopped, stretched his arms over his head, and shook out his legs before turning to make the journey back. That was when he felt it.

Eyes on him. Malevolence in the air that he could almost feel seeping into his body.

Ford lifted his head and sniffed, but all he smelled was the country air. And cow manure. That wasn’t unusual since he was close to a farm and he saw fenced-in cows in the pasture.

He took a moment to look around, straining to hear anything that might indicate someone close by, someone trying to sneak up on him. Aside from the animals and the farmhouse a quarter of a mile down a driveway, Ford didn’t see anything.

Still, he didn’t dismiss the feeling. He stayed acutely aware as he made his way back to the ranch, his head on a swivel. When he reached the front yard, the smell of freshly baked biscuits reached him.

Ford’s stomach grumbled, and he was dying to taste Mercy’s baking. He was also dying to taste Mercy. He’d thought about his mate all night, trying to figure out what he was going to do about him, and Ford hadn’t come up with an answer.

The front door opened, and Mercy walked out with a cup of coffee in his hand. His dark hair was wet, and he had on snug-fitting jeans and a white T-shirt.

Fuck. He looked good as hell. Ford wanted nothing more than to walk up those steps and sweep Mercy into his arms.

Then Mercy spotted him standing by the big oak tree, his hands on his hips, sweat pouring off him.

Mercy studied him for a second before he graced Ford with a smile. “Early morning jogger.”

Ford nodded. “Have to stay in shape.”

He was a big fella, six feet four inches of pure muscle. Ford didn’t have to exercise, not like humans did. He was naturally large, being a bear shifter, and his lifestyle kept him in shape.

“Smells like you’ve been baking.” Ford moved closer, wiping the sweat from his face with the bottom of his shirt. “Biscuits, right?”

Mercy beamed. “Would you like one?”

Before Ford could answer, Mercy set his cup on a table between two chairs and went inside. He returned with another cup and a small plate. “I remembered what you said about coffee with your treat.”

He looked proud of himself, which only made Ford want him even more. “Thanks.”

Ford took a seat on the steps and bit into the biscuit. His mouth had an orgasm at the soft, buttery taste. He even tasted a hint of honey inside.

“Well?” Mercy sat next to him. “What do you think?”

“I’m wondering how you stay so skinny when you can cook like this.” Ford devoured the biscuit, taking sips of coffee in between bites. “Tell me you have more to offer.”

Mercy took Ford’s plate and went inside. When he returned, he had three biscuits this time. “I’m glad you’re enjoying them.”

The biscuits were good, but Ford was enjoying Mercy’s company even more. The guy smelled like lilac soap and country-morning air.

“I stick around you and I might gain a few extra pounds.” Ford winked. “Now I want to taste your cinnamon rolls.”

A blush crept over Mercy’s face and ears. The embarrassment