the Blue Bloods as Janna.
No, she couldn’t tell anyone. Not yet.
Mate! Needs us!
her wolf whined inside.
The pull toward him was like a physical thing, a stretch of every nerve in her body. Another hour without him and she’d go nuts.
She slumped as soon as the word crossed her mind. Going nuts. That fate awaited Cole if she didn’t do anything to help. But what? There were no recipes for seeing a Changeling through the transformation. Nothing but hope and faith — two things she’d been awfully short of ever since fleeing Montana.
That thought tipped her from desperation over to anger. She’d done enough running, not enough fighting. And she’d had enough.
Enough!
her wolf agreed, baring its teeth.
No more running!
She had to get to Cole. Had to talk to him and try to explain. The full moon was only a few nights away, so she had to do something fast.
But she couldn’t exactly run off after Cole at the beginning of her shift, and it would kill her to wait. That problem had to be solved first.
She delivered the pie and coffee to Kyle and Stef, then hustled to the café door and yanked off her apron.
“Jess!” she called into the café next door. “Can you cover for me for a while?”
Jess made an unhappy noise. “I’ve got so much to do…”
“Kyle and Stef are here with their baby. Their cute, adorable—”
Jess came speeding out the door and into the saloon, grinning ear to ear. “Baby? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Janna trotted off for her car, shaking her head. Problem one was solved. Problem two…
She steeled her shoulders and picked up her pace.
Chapter Seven
Cole spent a sweaty hour repairing the fence, alternating between hammering and sniffing from Janna’s bandana. That and the clean scent of pine that started where the property merged with the forest made him feel a little more sane.
Rosalind put the guests’ kids on a pony and led them around the ring while the parents snapped pictures, but he kept his distance, just in case. Kept his head and eyes down, too, so they’d know to leave him alone.
But then a truck pulled into the paddocks adjoining Rosalind’s place and slowly backed up to the gate. When human voices mixed with animal bellows drifted to his ears, he couldn’t help but look up.
The trailer the truck had hauled in rattled and shook with the sharp bang of hooves. Something very big and very ornery wanted out of that trailer, bad.
“Moo!” One of the little kids, fresh off his pony ride, ran over to the fence. The sound of his voice carried. “Moo!”
“Big moo,” the dad said, watching three men tilt the trailer’s ramp down.
Cole’s ears twitched. Could he really hear their voices from so far away?
“Hmmf.” That was Rosalind, who rented the spare paddocks to stock traders on occasion. She sure didn’t look happy at what they had unloaded this time.
“Hey! Hey!” One of the handlers whistled and yelled, and the spotted rump of a huge bull appeared.
It bellowed, twisted, and banged away, taking one step forward for every two back. One of those ornery Longhorn-Brahman mixes that liked to fight every inch of the way. The inexperienced handlers were making things worse, too, riling the beast up more than settling it down.
Cole shook his head, watching the men force the beast down the ramp with a whip and a prod. No wonder the bull was so pissed off.
With a snort, the animal clomped down the ramp and trotted across the paddock, bucking and kicking at an invisible foe.
Cole squinted into the sun to watch it in spite of himself. He studied how the bull dipped its shoulders before lifting its hips, and how it twisted to the right. Getting a feel for the animal’s patterns out of sheer habit.
The bull was huge. Angry. Wild. A product of overly aggressive breeding practices was Cole’s guess, because big money called for ever bigger, meaner, wilder bulls to challenge riders. Breeders were succeeding, too, because the percentage of riders
No, she couldn’t tell anyone. Not yet.
Mate! Needs us!
her wolf whined inside.
The pull toward him was like a physical thing, a stretch of every nerve in her body. Another hour without him and she’d go nuts.
She slumped as soon as the word crossed her mind. Going nuts. That fate awaited Cole if she didn’t do anything to help. But what? There were no recipes for seeing a Changeling through the transformation. Nothing but hope and faith — two things she’d been awfully short of ever since fleeing Montana.
That thought tipped her from desperation over to anger. She’d done enough running, not enough fighting. And she’d had enough.
Enough!
her wolf agreed, baring its teeth.
No more running!
She had to get to Cole. Had to talk to him and try to explain. The full moon was only a few nights away, so she had to do something fast.
But she couldn’t exactly run off after Cole at the beginning of her shift, and it would kill her to wait. That problem had to be solved first.
She delivered the pie and coffee to Kyle and Stef, then hustled to the café door and yanked off her apron.
“Jess!” she called into the café next door. “Can you cover for me for a while?”
Jess made an unhappy noise. “I’ve got so much to do…”
“Kyle and Stef are here with their baby. Their cute, adorable—”
Jess came speeding out the door and into the saloon, grinning ear to ear. “Baby? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Janna trotted off for her car, shaking her head. Problem one was solved. Problem two…
She steeled her shoulders and picked up her pace.
Chapter Seven
Cole spent a sweaty hour repairing the fence, alternating between hammering and sniffing from Janna’s bandana. That and the clean scent of pine that started where the property merged with the forest made him feel a little more sane.
Rosalind put the guests’ kids on a pony and led them around the ring while the parents snapped pictures, but he kept his distance, just in case. Kept his head and eyes down, too, so they’d know to leave him alone.
But then a truck pulled into the paddocks adjoining Rosalind’s place and slowly backed up to the gate. When human voices mixed with animal bellows drifted to his ears, he couldn’t help but look up.
The trailer the truck had hauled in rattled and shook with the sharp bang of hooves. Something very big and very ornery wanted out of that trailer, bad.
“Moo!” One of the little kids, fresh off his pony ride, ran over to the fence. The sound of his voice carried. “Moo!”
“Big moo,” the dad said, watching three men tilt the trailer’s ramp down.
Cole’s ears twitched. Could he really hear their voices from so far away?
“Hmmf.” That was Rosalind, who rented the spare paddocks to stock traders on occasion. She sure didn’t look happy at what they had unloaded this time.
“Hey! Hey!” One of the handlers whistled and yelled, and the spotted rump of a huge bull appeared.
It bellowed, twisted, and banged away, taking one step forward for every two back. One of those ornery Longhorn-Brahman mixes that liked to fight every inch of the way. The inexperienced handlers were making things worse, too, riling the beast up more than settling it down.
Cole shook his head, watching the men force the beast down the ramp with a whip and a prod. No wonder the bull was so pissed off.
With a snort, the animal clomped down the ramp and trotted across the paddock, bucking and kicking at an invisible foe.
Cole squinted into the sun to watch it in spite of himself. He studied how the bull dipped its shoulders before lifting its hips, and how it twisted to the right. Getting a feel for the animal’s patterns out of sheer habit.
The bull was huge. Angry. Wild. A product of overly aggressive breeding practices was Cole’s guess, because big money called for ever bigger, meaner, wilder bulls to challenge riders. Breeders were succeeding, too, because the percentage of riders
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