Page 36 of My Boyfriend Marks Trees

Suddenly frightened, she hustled her butt, even as she tried to convince herself to stick around and show support. Ares sounded so serious though, and honestly, what use would she be?

It was probably nothing. Ares had made sure no one followed them. No one knew she was here, not even her work.

Despite his warning, she planned to watch from the window behind the curtain, only Greta called for her. “Mama, my hands are too sticky to turn on the water.”

“Coming, munchkin.”

She washed Greta from the honey she’d eaten with her crackers. Then ensured she went potty. By the time she returned to the front of the house, the visitor had gone, but a grim Ares muttered, “Time to get going.”

“Who was it?” she asked.

“Trouble.”

Chapter 11

Ares remainedon high alert the entire time he prepped the farm and fetched the tree with Greta. As he finished strapping the fir into the bed of his truck, he heard a car turning into the driveway. Not suspicious in and of itself. Sometimes people got lost or needed to turn around. Mom’s honey shack, at the top of the driveway, also led to some seeking it after it closed for the season. Still, not wanting to take a chance, Ares sent Charly inside as a precaution.

Good thing

First off, the car that slowed to a stop a few meters from his truck had rental plates. It differed in style and color from the one he’d seen that morning outside Charly’s place, though. The guy that emerged from the driver’s seat had size to him, not the kind that came from muscle, but excess. While not fat, his body bore some extra padding. Dark hair with matching beard. A lumberjacket layered over a knitted sweater. Jeans and steel-toe boots.

His wolf growled,Bad. Bad. Bad.

He’d already figured that part out.

Ares strolled in the stranger’s direction. “Can I help you?”

“Looking for Ares’ Artisanal Cheese.”

The mention of his company surprised. For one, while he advertised his business, he didn’t offer an address. His cheese was sold mostly at farmers’ markets and by special arrangement with small vendors in the area.

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m looking for the owner. Ares McMurray.”

“I’m Ares.”

“You’re the cheesemaker?” Buddy eyed him up and down with a smirk. “You don’t look like a pansy.”

That arched his brow. “Funny you should say that. I thought you looked like a dick, and here you are sounding like one.”

The insult drew the stranger’s brows together. “Do you try and piss off everyone who comes looking to buy your artsy-fartsy cheese?”

“Only those who shouldn’t be here. I don’t sell cheese from my house, so I’m kind of wondering how you got my address.”

“Wasn’t too hard to find, given you’re a registered business.” A claim that indicated this guy went through the trouble.

“What do you want?” Ares didn’t even pretend to be polite. Something about the fellow had his wolf growling,Enemy.

“I’m looking for a woman and her daughter. My wife to be exact. We had a tiff, and she ran off.”

Ares didn’t let his expression change. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with your shining personality.”

“Don’t fuck with me. Have you seen them?”

“Why would I have seen them?” Ares lied. “I’m single and kind of happy to stay that way.”

“Your business card was found where she’s staying.”