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Sharon’s Wolves

By:Becca Jameson

getting outside.

That was why he took up skiing—to be outside. And hiking. The side job as the local logging inspector was perfect.

Jazmine hugged him, a bit harder than usual, and left, mumbling something about how pigheaded he was.

Jackson locked his office and headed for his truck. He needed to get home and change. He wasn’t super excited about this particular inspection. The owner of this crew, Roger Barkley, had a tendency to cut corners and over-log. The man had been doing just that in November when his site was compromised by a wildfire, erasing the evidence.

He’d escaped recrimination that time, but Jackson had been on his ass at three more sites since then. Today’s inspection was at a new site, coincidentally just north of the ski resort. Not that he would run into any of the Masters simply by driving into the mountains around their property, but the proximity alone would make his cock stiff from knowing she was undoubtedly nearby.

Until Saturday, he’d only ever seen Sharon in ski clothes, albeit sexy fucking ski clothes, but it was almost May now. She wouldn’t be in ski clothes soon. In the summers she led hikers through the mountain paths. If he ever saw that woman in a tank top and shorts…

Jackson groaned as he slammed the door shut on his SUV and started the engine.

Chapter Two

Sharon Masters wiped the sweat off her brow and reached down to grab a bottle of water out of her backpack. She’d been working her ass off all morning and half the afternoon to get the trail leading from her family’s resort cleared so they could open for hikers the following week.

She took a long drink of the cool water and leaned on the hoe she gripped with her gloved right hand. It was unseasonably warm, almost seventy degrees. Unheard of for late April in northwestern Montana. The six men working with her looked about as exhausted as she felt.

Her oldest brother, Griffen, righted himself about ten yards away and glanced up the trail. He stiffened and froze in his spot at the same moment the small hairs on the back of her neck rose. Something was off.

She planted both feet and turned her head in every direction, having no idea what she was looking for. The air was suddenly too still. Nothing moved. Even the birds stopped chirping.

And then the ground shook.

Sharon lurched forward when the earthquake hit, knowing in an instant what was occurring. She’d been through earthquakes in the area a few years ago, and she would never forget the sensation of having the ground seemingly yanked out from under her feet.

Griffen shouted something, but she couldn’t hear him over the rumble of the earth.

She lost her balance as she tried to step forward with one foot to keep from falling, but she wasn’t quick enough. Instead, she found herself stumbling, unable to get a grip on anything. From her position in the middle of the trail, she didn’t even have a branch or tree trunk to grab onto.

She watched the hoe flip up when she fell forward as if it happened in slow motion. And the next thing she knew, the blade sliced through her pants and gouged her in the calf halfway between her knee and her ankle.

“Shit.” She gasped for oxygen as she put out her hands to brace her fall and landed on her elbows instead of her palms when the earth rose up to meet her.

The land shook for several more seconds, during which Sharon rolled onto her back and struggled to sit up. Her leg hurt like a son of a bitch.

When she glanced down, drawing her knee up to inspect the damage, she cringed. The land stopped moving as she tugged her torn pants up, and she nearly passed out when she saw the blood. “Fuck.”

A shadow fell over her, forcing her to tip her head back and meet Griffen’s gaze. “Don’t move.”

He hunched down next to her while whipping his T-shirt over his head. In a heartbeat he had the cotton wrapped around her leg, squeezing her calf to stop the bleeding.

Sharon couldn’t slow her breathing. She lowered herself onto her back, afraid she would indeed pass out and hit her head if she didn’t remove her gaze from the wound.

“Sharon, look at me,” Griffen demanded.

She blinked up at him.

“We need to get you off this mountain.”

“It’s bad.” She didn’t need him to tell her. She’d seen the cut. It was deep and several inches long.

“Yes.”

Several other men surrounded her an instant later. “Is she okay?”

“No. We need to get her back to the lodge.” Griffen looked around as if he thought he might be able to come up with a viable solution.

The truth was she needed to shift. Soon. But she couldn’t do so in front of the men. None of them were wolf shifters. They were hired to clear the trail. They weren’t regular employees.

And they were several miles from the lodge. She would never be able to walk out of there.

“There’s a service road not far from here,” one of the men said as he pointed to the east. “It runs along this trail. Maybe we can catch someone heading down from the logging site to the north.”

“Good idea.” Griffen nodded at a group of men to one side, still gripping her leg tightly. “You three head for the road and try to flag someone down.” He angled his head toward the trail next to them. “Can someone grab my backpack and pull out some gauze and tape?”

Sharon swallowed even though her mouth was too dry. She watched the men run off toward the service road and bit the inside of her cheek. She needed to stay alert.

One man returned with the backpack and unzipped it hastily. He kept glancing at Sharon’s face, his eyes narrowed. I must look horrible.

What she knew was she had to be white as a sheet. Her skin grew clammy. She recognized the first signs of shock and gritted her teeth to keep it at bay. It wasn’t blood loss that ruled her condition. It was the fact that she’d seen the gash.

“Rebecca’s at the lodge, Sharon. All we need to do is get you down there, and she can handle the rest.” Griffen held her leg with one ha

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