Born To Be Wild Read Online Free PDF

seat and slammed the door closed behind him, then ran around to the passenger side to help Isabel out of the truck.
    When he tried to put an arm around her to steady her out of the vehicle and onto the walkway, she said, “I’m fine, Micah.” She wiggled out past him.
    But when she tried closing the passenger door, he put out a hand to stop it. “The food.”
    He reached in back and fetched the bag before following. She’d unlocked the front door by the time he caught up to her. He reached around her to open it.
    For a second…one short second…she met his gaze. He read something in her expression that called to him. Something that flashed him back to the past for a few seconds. A connection that used to be ever-present, like a live wire between them. Then he blinked, and she looked away and entered the foyer. Its bright orange walls and contrasting dark stone floor were incongruously cheerful.
    Isabel said, “Maybe you should take the food home with you.”
    “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re eating.”
    “You can’t stay here.”
    “Then I’ll sleep in the back of my pickup. You don’t honestly think I’m going back to the ranch before we find our daughter?”
    “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she admitted, looking utterly defeated.
    “That’s because your brain needs fuel. Kitchen,” he ordered.
    She glared at him for a moment, and he thought she would argue, but he could see the exhaustion and, yes, despair written in her face and body. Dark circles below her hazel eyes dimmed the light from them. Her shoulders slumped. She appeared to have turned inward on herself.
    Not giving up was nonnegotiable. He would do whatever it took to make her embrace hope. They would find their daughter. They would.
    “C’mon. I don’t have enough energy left to carry you.”
    Despite her murmured protest, Micah slipped an arm around her back and urged her through the living area. Touching her made him soften a bit, made him remember the things he’d forced himself to forget.
    The room was a testament to Isabel’s love of color. While the adobe walls and kiva fireplace were white, the couch was burnt orange, the chairs striped with orange and turquoise and magenta. Blown-up photographs she had taken lined the walls. The one of Lucy hugging Isabel’s horse, Crank, on the Falcon Ranch made his throat go tight.
    The kitchen was equally bright, with the same white walls, burnt-orange cabinets and countertops of Mexican tile with a colorful flower pattern. Sighing, Isabel slumped into a seat at the turquoise wood table and made no effort to check out the bag he set directly in front of her.
    “You’d better find something in there you’re willing to eat,” he said, opening a cabinet, hoping to find plates.
    “It’s the next one,” she said, and, to his relief, she dug into the bag.
    By the time he got out dishes, flatware, and a couple cans of soda from the fridge, she’d at least spread the boxes of food over the middle of the table.
    “We need to plan strategy.” He sat around the corner from her, bumping knees.
    She immediately moved hers so they weren’t touching.
    A little irritated, he asked, “What would you like?”
    “Chicken.”
    He pushed the box of chicken right in front of her. If her taste hadn’t changed, it was her favorite, grilled with a spicy serrano barbecue sauce. After she chose a piece, he set cartons of slaw and string potatoes in front of her, as well.
    “I’ll be lucky to force anything down.”
    Biting into a burger, he grunted in response.
    Despite her protests, she ate more than he’d expected. Some things didn’t change. She wore her food. Barbecue sauce decorated the corner of her lip and her chin, making him remember the first time they’d eaten this chicken together. He’d kissed the sauce away. Crazy in love with her, he’d kissed other things, too, all that she would allow. He forced his mind from the sweet memory. There were more important things to