Masters 01 Master of the Mountain (9 page)

“Thanks.”
Don't overexert yourself
. She gave him a stiff nod and left. Matt might as well talk with Logan; if she asked for a cabin, she'd all too likely end up in his bed—again. She frowned. Last night hadn't been exactly her decision, and they hadn't done that much…really…but a second time would mean real sex. She pressed a hand over her stomach where her supposedly nonexistent libido turned a few somersaults. Damn.

Matt might be comfortable messing around with different lovers, but she wasn't. If she went to bed with Logan—as in making love—then it basically meant she considered her relationship with Matt over. She stopped and leaned against a tree, frowning. Could she ever get past seeing Matt with Ashley?

But they'd been so right together, and he'd said as much.

But would he be willing to quit the swinging club?
Doubtful, Rebecca, doubtful
. Where did that leave her? Breaking up and breaking the lease and being single. Alone.

With a sigh, she headed down the trail toward the lodge. Walking around a curve, she stopped dead. The dog stared at her from the center of the trail.
Oh God, oh God
. She took a step back, but it advanced on her. Its ears were back.

As it got within a foot, her heart pounded so violently, she thought she'd throw up.
Don't run
. Running made them jump on you and rip at you and…

It sniffed her jeans. She couldn't quite stifle the whimper, and it looked up at her, growling.

“Thor.” Logan stood at the bend in the trail. “Come here.”

Relief rushed through her and made her breath hitch. Yet she couldn't move.

Giving one last growl, the dog trotted back to its owner.

Logan reached Rebecca just as her legs crumpled. He caught her, his hands firm around her waist. “Easy there.” He scooped her up in his arms, sat on a downed log at the trail's edge, and cradled her as easily as if she were a toddler. As his scent surrounded her, she managed to draw in a breath and then couldn't seem to get enough air.

Without speaking, he held her as she shuddered, as she burrowed closer into his arms, as her gasping slowed. After a while, she realized he was stroking her back, not fake reassuring pats, but long sweeps of his hand, warm and firm. Her breathing slowly changed to match the rhythm.

Finally, when she couldn't put it off any longer, she moved, trying to ignore the flush of humiliation. What an idiot she'd made of herself. Last night and now.

His arms loosened, and she sat up. “Thank you, Logan.” She braced herself and looked him in the face, expecting pity. Maybe even some disgust.

His expression held only sympathy. And curiosity. “Thor is intimidating, I know, but I've never seen someone quite so frightened of him. Why?”

Callused fingers took her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her eyes from the dog. Thoughtfully, he studied her. “Why are you so scared of dogs?”

She did not want to remember any of it. Never. Forget talking about it. She tried to shake her head. God knew her voice wouldn't work right.

He didn't release her. His voice deepened. “Becca, answer me.”

“One b-bit me.”

“Keep going, sugar. I can tell there's more to it than that. When did it happen?”

“When I was ten.” Under his level gaze, words spilled out of her, ugly memories she hadn't been able to share with anyone. “Skateboarding in the park and a dog…” The memory of the dog blanked her mind. Her hands fisted, and she jerked her gaze away.

“No, look at me.”

When her eyes turned back to his, he stroked his warm hands up and down her arms.

“Tell me more. Was the dog big?”

She shuddered, remembering how it had come toward her, growling, teeth bared, the hair on its back up like the dog here.
The dog
. Where was Thor? She turned.

Logan cupped his hand around her chin. “Look at me, sugar. Big dog?”

She nodded and found her voice worked. Mostly. “Big.” There were no words for the size of it. “It came at me, growling, and I tried to run away.”

He winced.

“Yeah. The doctor said I shouldn't have run. But it was going to attack me anyway.”

“Got it.” He let go of her face and picked her up, setting her back on his lap. Without speaking, he held her against him. His arms around her were powerful, his chest solid. Nothing could get to her. She buried her head in his shoulder and sighed.

“Keep going. Get it all out,” he said. “You ran. Then what?”

“It attacked, got hold of one of my legs. I fell.” Her head had cracked against the concrete, and pain had been everywhere, striking over and over. “It… I would have died, except I screamed. A man had a baseball bat.”

“God, sweetheart.” Logan's arms tightened. “You were just a baby.”

“They sewed me up as good as they could, but”—she shrugged—“I have scars.” She could hear her classmates taunting, “
Ugly, ugly, ugly
.”

“Well, I'll take a closer look at them later,” he said.

She stiffened. “You will not.”

He chuckled and then lifted her like a doll, placing her on the log between his legs with her back against his chest. “Meantime, you and Thor need to make friends.”

“No way.” She tried to stand, and an iron arm locked around her waist.

“Give me your hand.” He reached around her and put his palm in front of her waist. “Rebecca.”

When he used that voice, that tone, why did she obey him? This wasn't like her at all, yet he made her feel so safe. Her hand crept into his.

His voice warmed. “Good girl.” He shifted slightly. “Thor, get over here and say hi to the lady.”

Thor paced over to them. When Rebecca tried to shrink back, Logan's unbending body behind her prevented it. Her free hand clasped his thigh, the fingers digging in as the dog came closer.

Its eyes looked mean, and she couldn't muffle a whimper.

Logan's hand held hers steady as the dog sniffed her fingers. “She's a friend, Thor. Stop picking on her; she's had a rough time.”

As if it understood, the dog looked up. She was shaking uncontrollably, wanting only to run. It snuffled her hand again, and then it licked her palm.

“It wants to eat me,” she whispered. “Please, please, let me go.”

A laugh rumbled in her ear. “No, sweetheart. I'm the one that will eat you. Thor only licks people he likes. It's his version of a hug.”

“Really?” She hadn't been this close to a dog since the attack. She'd cross the streets to avoid anything larger than a miniature poodle. If people had dogs, she didn't visit. “Look at his teeth.” Sharp and huge and savage.

“Thor is a mixture, a mongrel. We figure he's part-shepherd, part-husky, and part-collie. Remember Lassie? Lassie was a collie.” The matter-of-fact voice comforted her as Logan gripped her hand, forcing her to stroke Thor's head.

The dog's tail moved slightly, back and forth. Even Rebecca knew that was a good thing. Logan didn't let up, making her pet the dog over and over.

“Now huskies tend to be shy and don't really like people,” Logan said, his voice a low murmur in her ear. “But shepherds are smart guys and want to hang out with humans, since they get bored easily. Collies are natural protectors. Anything that needs to be saved, a collie's your dog. All three breeds are accustomed to working with man.”

Rebecca's muscles had relaxed, and after a second, she realized he'd released her hand. She was petting the dog by herself. And it let her. She pulled her hand back. Would Logan release her now?

The dog moved forward. Rebecca's breath caught, and she cringed back against the immovable body behind her.

It—
he
—wasn't a monster. Her laugh caught on a sob, but she managed to lay her hand on his head and stroke his fur.
Soft fur.

“Very good, sugar.” Logan kissed the side of her neck. “You've made a friend, and Thor has someone else to nag into petting him. A good day's work.”

He set her down on the log beside him before rising. Bending over, he placed a hard kiss on her lips, then snapped his fingers at the dog and continued down the trail. Rebecca watched them until they disappeared around a corner of the forest.

Well
. She'd petted a dog, and he had wagged his tail and licked her. Her breathing and heart rate were still too fast, but she smiled. He liked her.
Thor
liked her.

She pushed to her feet and had to hold on to a tree until her knees stopped wobbling. Starting down the trail, she remembered something Logan had said. “
No, sweetheart. I'm the one that will eat you
.”

The flush started in her face and didn't stop until her toes curled in her sneakers.

* * * * *

Jake had returned, thank Christ, and Logan not only didn't have to play nice with the people but he'd even caught a two-hour nap. The swingers who had gone in the van with Jake to see Yosemite Valley had returned, pleased with their afternoon. The few swingers who remained at the lodge had been—occupied—and were also pleased with their day, sharing tales of their adventures over the supper table.

Happy campers made for return business.