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A Little Night Muse(10)

By:Jessa Slade


                Other than some coyote tracks and the harsh calls of scrub                     jays, the homestead was untouched, quiet. Josh circled Bunco around back, Wolly                     at heel. Behind the house, tall blackjack pines created a sheltered space                     without snow. When both Bunco and Wolly lifted their heads to focus on the                     porch, Josh thumbed off the rifle safety.

                “Okay then, you come on out now, whatever you are.” He kept his                     tone steady. “I ain’t fond of surprises.”

                Bears and cougars, even wolves, prowled the valleys, but Vaile                     didn’t keep any lunchable livestock. Still, even something as small as a                     porcupine could do serious damage if it set up a woodshop in the log cabin.

                Josh dismounted, stepping on a circle of toadstools that                     sprouted out of the pine duff. A dry snake skin wound between the rounded caps,                     which was odd. Too cold for snakes.

                He ground tied Bunco and gave Wolly the stay signal. No sense                     setting himself up for a dog bath if the intruder was a skunk.

                He took two steps toward the porch and the door opened.

                A woman.

                His jaw dropped. No, not a woman. An angel. A porn star. Some                     baffling mix of the three. His heart slammed against his ribs, as hard as if he                     accidentally shot himself through the chest. Which would be embarrassing. Almost                     as embarrassing as standing here with his jaw hanging loose, staring.

                A dress of long scarves bound her from neck to foot. The                     shifting edges only emphasized her curves. Breasts and hips in widespread,                     man-hand-sized glory, with a sloping dip at the waist like a welcoming pass                     between summits. Against the pale veils, her hair spilled in a midnight                     waterfall, dark and shining.

                And her eyes...Oregon was known for its greenery, but every hue                     was captured in her brilliant eyes.

                Damn, his mouth was still hanging open. His neighbors hadn’t                     mentioned they’d be hosting Arabian princesses. His mind drifted to a thousand                     and one nights.

                “Miss.” He swept the hat off his head and clutched it between                     his hands.

                “I’m wet,” she said. “Come inside.”