Against the Wild Read Online Free PDF

“Yeah . . .”
    Lane realized he was thinking of his little girl, mute since her mother had left, and wished she could call back the words. She reached out and touched his arm, felt a quick charge of awareness. When Dylan swung his scorching gaze in her direction, whatever she’d been going to say died on her lips.
    â€œSupper’s on!” Mrs. Henry called out, ending the moment, thank God.
    â€œWe’d better go eat before the food gets cold,” Lane said, forcing herself to smile.
    â€œYeah.” But his gaze held hers for several more seconds before he took her hand and they started back downstairs. The kitchen and breakfast nook were behind a wall that separated them from the dining area, which sat at one end of the great hall.
    â€œWe usually eat in here,” Dylan said, leading her into the kitchen and over to the long pine table that dominated one side. The scent of roasted meat, vegetables, and freshly baked biscuits filled the air.
    At the far end of the table, a little girl with big blue eyes, and chin-length dark brown hair cut in a bob sat staring out the window into the side yard. Her attention was riveted on Finn, who was sniffing around, getting to know his territory.
    Lane noticed the deep breath Dylan took before he led her to the end of the table. “Emily, honey, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Her name is Lane Bishop. She came up from California to help us remodel the lodge.”
    The child turned to look at her but didn’t say a word.
    â€œHello, Emily,” Lane said gently. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
    Nothing.
    Dylan’s shoulders looked tense. Lane’s heart went out to him. “That’s Finn outside,” she said. “He’s my dog. You’ll have to meet him, too.”
    The little girl’s features brightened. She didn’t speak, but she was definitely curious about Finn.
    Mrs. Henry began setting platters of food on the table as Caleb Wolfe walked into the kitchen along with the brawny, red-haired man who had helped Dylan down at the dock. He had a ruddy complexion and a friendly smile. He cast a quick glance at Winifred Henry before he walked up to the table.
    â€œPaddy, this is Lane Bishop,” Dylan said. “She’s an interior designer. She’s here to help us with the lodge.”
    He reached up to touch an invisible hat that wasn’t on his head. “Pleasure, ma’am.”
    â€œIt’s just Lane. It’s nice to meet you, Paddy.”
    They all found places at the table. Taking a seat across from Emily, Dylan pulled Lane down on the bench beside him. Caleb sat next to Emily on the opposite side, and once everyone, including Mrs. Henry, was seated, heaping platters of steaming meat and vegetables were passed around. Biscuits followed, with slabs of butter and what appeared to be homemade berry jam.
    The food was delicious, the conversation easy and relaxed. Still, it was unnerving to feel Dylan’s hard body brushing against her, the heat of his thigh against hers. Her hands were a little unsteady as she passed a big bowl of corn, and she saw him watching her, his thoughts only too easy to read.
    Or perhaps they weren’t. Maybe she was the only one who knew what he was thinking because her thoughts ran close to the same.

    Dylan fought to ignore the press of Lane’s thigh against his. He shifted away from her a little, hoping to control the arousal it wasn’t the right time to feel.
    â€œHow was your nap?” Winnie asked Lane about halfway through the meal. “I hope your room is all right.”
    â€œIt’s a lovely room,” Lane said. “And so quiet. I slept longer than I meant to and more deeply than I have in a while. I remember having this dream. I don’t usually recall them, but this one was odd and particularly vivid.”
    â€œI remember mine sometimes,” Winnie said, “not very often.”
    â€œAs we were