Against the Wild Read Online Free

nearly knocking her into the water as he shot past her and landed on the dock.
    Grinning, Dylan caught her waist to steady her and felt her firm, lean muscles. A jolt of heat shot through him. Lane must have felt it, too. She turned, eyes wide, and quickly stepped onto the dock. Collecting Finn’s leash, she led the dog up on the shore while Dylan unloaded her bags and followed.
    His best friend, a well-built, dark-skinned man, walked up and grabbed the bigger bag. He was half Alaska Native with a mix of something else that refined his features and made him obnoxiously handsome. “I see you found her,” Caleb said.
    â€œYup, right there at the airport where she was supposed to be.” Dylan turned. “Lane, this is Caleb Wolfe. He helps me run the place.”
    Her green eyes ran along the black hair Caleb wore in two long braids, then traveled six feet down to the soles of his heavy leather work boots. At thirty-one, Caleb was two years younger than Dylan, though his occasional spouting of Indian mythology had a tendency to make him seem older and wiser.
    Having seen him as drunk as ten Tlingit braves on homemade beer and barely able to talk at all, Dylan knew better.
    Lane extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Caleb.”
    His friend’s calloused palm engulfed her slender fingers. “Dylan’s said a lot of nice things about you. I can see they were true.”
    Dylan inwardly scoffed. He hadn’t said squat. Which just went to show that just because a guy wore beads and wove feathers into his hair didn’t mean he wasn’t full of bullshit.
    â€œThis is Finn,” Lane said, rubbing the dog’s shaggy head. “He’s very gentle.”
    Caleb extended his hand, Finn sniffed, and the two got acquainted. “Nice dog,” he said.
    â€œThanks.”
    Caleb gave Finn a little scratch beneath the chin and the dog gave him what looked strangely like a smile. “I’ll take the bags in,” Caleb said. “Mrs. Henry’s been cooking all day. I can smell the venison roast from here. She baked an apple pie, too.”
    â€œSounds good.”
    â€œI’ll see you at supper.”
    â€œMrs. Henry?” Lane repeated as Caleb walked away and they headed up the stone path toward the front door of the lodge.
    The lodge regally overlooked the bay, with a covered porch in front, two long balconies that wrapped around the upstairs, and amazing views of the ocean. The sight reminded him why he had purchased the place.
    â€œWinifred Henry,” he explained. “The housekeeper I mentioned. She takes care of Emily.”
    Lane stopped dead in her tracks, Finn right beside her. “Emily? Who exactly is Emily? And you had better not tell me she’s your wife.”
    He chuckled. “No wife. Not anymore. Emily’s my daughter.”
    She didn’t move. He could see the temper building, rippling off her in waves. “You didn’t bother to mention the lodge was miles away from a real town, down a nearly impassable road and—”
    â€œFifteen minutes by plane.”
    â€œAnd you also just happened to forget to mention you had a daughter?”
    His amusement slipped away. “Emily won’t bother you. You won’t even know she’s here.”
    â€œHow old is she?”
    â€œShe’s eight.”
    Lane started walking rapidly up the path, and Dylan fell in behind her. As she reached the front door, he caught her shoulder and turned her around. “I didn’t tell you about Emily because it was just too complicated.”
    Those green eyes were spitting. “Since when is talking about an eight-year-old girl too complicated?”
    â€œEmily isn’t like other kids. She’s . . .” He swallowed. “The problem is, Emily doesn’t talk. Not a word. Hasn’t said a damned thing since her mother left us three years ago.”
    Silence fell, then Lane revved up again. “Have you