Wildcat Blues by Nalini Singh (read aloud books TXT) 📕

that someone was definitely up, had brewed coffee, made some eggs. First, the run, then she’d wander into the kitchen and grab a plate of leftovers, or make herself some food if it was all gone.

The air was cool, crisp…and redolent with a thousand new smells that made her wildcat nose twitch. She supposed some of those smells might be termed bad, but to a cat, it was all just smells. And right now, while she might be in her human skin, her mind was of the cat.

She closed the front door behind herself, did a few stretches, then headed out across a field that appeared empty of livestock. The footing was uneven, probably from animal hooves, but it was nothing in comparison to the forest in which she regularly ran. Enjoying the bright, clean air, and the sprawling vista, she nonetheless kept her senses open for any sign of domestic animals.

The last thing she wanted to do was give some poor cow a heart attack.

But these fields appeared to have been left empty—to regrow the patchy grass maybe—or could be she was running on some vegetable fields left fallow for the season. So it wasn’t until she was out of sight of the house that she caught the hint of an animal scent.

She sniffed. “Horse.”

About to head in the opposite direction, she was halted by another scent entwined with that of the horse’s: Tanner Larkspur.

Her face flushed, her thighs clenched, and she made a bad, bad decision.

She turned in the direction of his scent. She wouldn’t go too close, wouldn’t scare his horse. She just wanted to…to… “You just want to eat him up with your eyes, Zara ‘Terrible Decision’ De Lêon, that’s what you want!” she muttered to herself. “Admit it. He’s like a live porn movie as far as your misbehaving hormones are concerned.”

Then there he was, out in the distance. The land wasn’t flat here, was kind of gently rolling, and he stood near a tree on a rise beyond the dip in front of her. He was doing something with a fence post. Fixing it maybe?

The man was also not wearing a shirt or a tee.

Zara threw up her hands. That was just ridiculous. The sun wasn’t even really up yet! How dare he flaunt himself to an innocent woman minding her own damn business.

His head lifted, though there was no way he should’ve sensed her. He was human, didn’t have her nose. But he tipped his cowboy hat back on his head…and smiled. She could feel the sexy punch of it even from so far out.

Her breasts seemed to swell in the confines of her bra, her skin suddenly hyper-hot.

And that was before he patted his horse, then started to walk toward her.

She should’ve turned around and continued her run in the opposite direction, but Zara didn’t run from anyone. Especially not a six-feet-plus tall man who smiled at her like she was his favorite flavor of ice-cream. “Such a bad idea, Zara,” she muttered under her breath. “Farm boy. Farm boy.”

The litany was a reminder of all the reasons she couldn’t and shouldn’t do this. Which was why she didn’t understand why she was running toward him, her wildcat pouncing at her skin in excitement, and her heart thumping against her ribcage.

She had enough control to stop halfway to his horse. Leaning up against the fence with both arms, she caught her breath. It hadn’t been a long run for a cat, and she wasn’t huffed because of the exercise.

It was him.

He reached her not long afterward. Stepping far too close, until she could’ve spread her hand on his bare chest without fully extending her arm, he smiled that lethal smile again and said, “Good morning, Zara.” The way he drawled out her name, it made it into something indecent.

“Tanner,” she said through a mouth that had turned into a desert. “You’re up early.”

“Farm hours,” he said, leaning up against the fence with one arm. “What’s your excuse, kitty cat?”

She narrowed her eyes. Had anyone else called her that, she’d have kicked him where it hurt. But… Oh, hell. “Early riser, farm boy.”

He grinned at her sharp retort. “I am that,” he said, easy as pie and as delicious. “Did you sleep okay? Strange place and all.”

“Yes. Until your suicidal rooster decided to sing me a demented aria.”

His laughter was warm caramel sliding over her skin, getting into places it had no business going. “You got a little time? I can show you around the farm a bit.”

Say no, Zara, recommended the sensible part of her brain.

The hormones cackled, and her lips parted. “What about your fencing?”

“It’ll keep.” His eyes lingered on her face, on her lips…as if he’d eat her up. “We’re in a small seasonal lull at the farm. That’s why Tally times her visits around now. So no one’s in a rush.”

“Oh. I don’t know much about farms.”

“You will,” he said, his lips curving again. “After your tour with a farm boy.”

“Right.” She flushed again, when she wasn’t a woman who went around mooning over men. Thank you to her parents for the dark tone of her skin. It hid all kinds of sins, including lusting after one out-of-bounds cowboy. “Shall I meet you back at the house?”

“Race you? Star there is fast, but you run like you own the wind.” He held her gaze full-on. Not a battle for dominance, but a connection that made her cat purr and arch its back. “You’re beautiful to watch in motion.”

Toes curling inside her running shoes, she pushed off the fence before she gave in to the primal wildness inside her and pounced on him. She liked being petted and praised by Tanner Larkspur. Especially when he looked at her that way, with those dark eyes so focused on her that it was as if nothing and no one else existed.

“I’ll wait for you to get back to your horse to keep it fair,” she said, her voice holding a slight huskiness.

“I’ll