Untouched: 2 (Rough Boys) by Petrova Em

Author:Petrova, Em [Petrova, Em]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica
ISBN: 9781419940378
Published: 2013-05-21T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

The crack of a rifle shot made Mason jerk. He stopped mid-step, his boot hovering over the snow as he searched his surroundings. The forest was thick here and the mountain laurel tall. He could barely see thirty feet in front of him, and that’s exactly what worried him. If someone was in these woods hunting, then they couldn’t see him either.

Who the hell was on his personal property anyway? The ground was posted against hunting. In all his years growing up, he could only remember his father asking one person to get off their land, and that had been someone from out of state who didn’t know any better.

He listened hard for the crunch of feet on snow. In places, the snow surface had been melted by the sun and formed a crust. It made for difficult walking but he’d had to get out of his house to clear his head or he’d scream. Walking down the road didn’t offer him the peace he got when hiking in the woods.

He whipped his head to the left at the sound of footsteps. Pivoting, he backtracked, placing his feet in the original places he’d stepped before, trying to be as quiet as possible. The scents of pine and laurel enveloped him, but there was something else he detected on the breeze—blood.

Since he was old enough to walk beside his dad, he’d been in the woods with him, hunting deer and turkeys and many other birds in this part of the state. He knew the scent of blood.

Someone’s poaching on my land. Pissed now, he strode around the laurel. The trees thinned and he was able to see a trail of footprints leading away from him. Quickly he moved forward to find the tracks were close together and the feet small. A kid? The anger in his chest abated a bit. A young hunter might not know this land was posted, especially if he entered in a stretch without a sign.

Still, he was going to set the kid straight so he didn’t think he could continue to take deer off Mason’s property.

Ahead, he caught a flash of an orange hunting jacket. “Hey!”

The person spun at once, still too far away for Mason to make out the features. But the figure was small and young.

The hunter looked around nervously, his rifle butt rested on his boot, safely pointed away at least. Mason quickened his pace, his thigh muscles warm from the exertion of moving through the hard snow.

As he approached, the hunter slid off his hood to reveal gleaming mahogany waves. Mason sputtered and drew up short. “Eva!”

“Hi, Mason.” Her lips and cheeks were cherry red from the cold, but as their gazes met, a dark blush stained her face.

She was bogged down in a very large hunting coat—probably Bill’s. And she had on a pair of jeans and no other outer layers. They were wet to the upper thigh.

“Christ, Eva. You’ve gotta be freezing. What are you doing out here?”

Emotion flickered across her face, confusing the hell out of him because it was unreadable.

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