Free Serengeti Heat by Vivi Andrews Page B

determination. “We have more to say to one another, Ava.”
    The expression that tried to break through her anger this time was heartbreakingly sad and utterly resigned. “I’ve said all I have to say.”
    “I haven’t.”
    For a second that seemed to drag on forever, he thought she would turn him away. Then she shrugged and stepped aside, nodding toward the narrow doorway. “Come in then.”
    He had to duck to cross the threshold and, once inside, he couldn’t straighten fully without knocking his head on the exposed beams of the ceiling. He felt like a bull in a china shop, his shoulder nearly knocking a small framed photo of Ava and her brothers off the wall when he turned to study the space she had made her home. In spite of the shabby exterior, Ava’s cabin had a cozy, if unimpressive, charm. An unassuming hominess.
    She stepped into the tiny room behind him and closed the door. As soon as it clicked shut, the memory of the last time they’d been alone together rose in his mind. The room was saturated in her scent and his body reacted to it, his instincts screaming that she was his .
    Now all he had to do was convince her of that fact. The confident temptress who had seduced him last night was gone. In her place was a meek waif who refused to meet his eyes.
    She leaned against the door and fidgeted with the knick-knacks on the window ledge to her right. “So, this is the reality,” she said, waving a carved lion figurine at the room at large. “Small.”
    “It suits you.” He saw her face close off and internally winced. Evidently not the right thing to say. As she continued to fidget and glance around the room, blushing and squirming, he realized with a jolt she was ashamed of her home, even though it seemed homey and somehow perfectly her to him. “I like it. It’s cozy.”
    The look she shot him was saturated with disbelief, but she didn’t come right out and call him a liar. He wasn’t sure if that was progress or not.
    “When Zoe and I lived without a pride, we didn’t have much of anything. You learn to appreciate the things that make a place a home.” He carefully straightened the photo he’d knocked askew.
    She continued to fidget and he reached out to rescue the lion carving she was twisting to death. She snatched her hands behind her back when he brushed her fingers, relinquishing the carving without a fight.
    The wooden figure was small enough fit in the palm of his hand, but the details were so intricate and the artisan so skilled, he could immediately identify the form. It was a miniature replica of her brother Tyler as a crouching lion.
    “Amazing,” he murmured to himself. He noted a dozen similar figures, each readily identifiable, scattered on ledges around the room. “You like carvings?”
    She flushed and squirmed, but this time there was a quiet pride beneath her nervous fidgeting.
    Landon smiled broadly. “You made this? It’s beautiful.” He stepped toward her, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “My little Ava has a hidden talent.”
    Her pleasure at his praise visibly evaporated and she flinched away from his touch. “I’m not your little Ava.”
    That remained to be determined.
    “Fantasy time is over, Landon,” she went on coldly. “We’re back in the real world now and in the real world I live in the smallest cabin on the ranch. Not because it’s cozy . Because I am the smallest, weakest, most pathetic lioness around and I can’t fight for a better one.”
    She waved one arm, the gesture taking in all the little possessions that made the place her own. “These things are only mine because no one else wants them enough to bother to take them from me. And you think, what? That I’m your queen ? Wake up, Landon.”
    He caught her waving hand and linked their fingers, holding tight when she tried to yank free. “I think you’re my mate. You are what I need. You’re right for me and right for the pride.”
    He tipped her face back with the hand that still