Free Wild by Jill Sorenson Page B

her first job as a stable hand. Brusque tomboys weren’t immune to crude advances. It was an unpleasant life lesson she’d never forgotten.
    Some men preyed on vulnerable women. Others harassed the ones they felt the most threatened by. Helena placed herself in that second category. But Josh wasn’t either type of man, despite his suggestive comments. His humor was good-natured and impulsive, not degrading. She’d been too busy avoiding him to acknowledge that.
    She’d never acknowledged the chemistry between them, either. She hadn’t been forced to confront it. The earthquake had shaken her up and busted down her guard, exposing a desire she’d been trying to suppress. She wasn’t worried about Josh cornering her behind the vending machines or stealing a kiss. If anything, the idea excited her.
    She liked him.
    Well, maybe like wasn’t the right word. Physical attraction didn’t require her to like him. He might be smarter and more dependable than she’d given him credit for, but he wasn’t her respected colleague. He wasn’t best-buddy material. Josh Garrison was some other kind of material. One-night-stand material. Stumbling-home-from-the-bar material. Guilty-pleasure, mindless-hookup, shower-fantasy material.
    Heat flooded her cheeks at the mental picture, which seemed twice as pornographic in his proximity. It was one thing to entertain dirty thoughts in private. Conjuring them while he was staring right at her was quite another.
    Because of their respective positions on the ladder, his eyes were level with her mouth. His right foot was on a lower ladder rung, his left propped up on the guard. Their bodies were almost touching in several places. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths. She could feel the warmth of his hand next to hers and see beads of perspiration at his temple. A crease formed between his brows, as if he could read her mind.
    Instead of teasing her further, he cleared his throat and glanced away. He looked a bit flushed himself. The temperature had risen between them. He smelled good, like ocean and clean sweat and salty male skin. She wondered how he would taste.
    Time to move.
    He couldn’t go down; she had to go up. Feeling awkward, she ascended a few rungs. When her raging hormones subsided, she grabbed her radio to call Trent at the reptile house. “Trent, this is Helena. We’ve got a lion issue.”
    He didn’t respond.
    “The code one is confirmed,” she said into the receiver. “We’re on tram pole number three, in need of assistance.”
    Still nothing.
    “Try yours,” she said to Josh.
    He lifted his radio and repeated the same information. With the same results. They spent the next few minutes trying to get through to Trent and Louis, to no avail. Josh sent a text on his cell phone. They waited. Zuma waited with them, napping in the shade.
    “Maybe they left,” Helena said.
    “Without saying goodbye?”
    It seemed unlikely. Trent and Louis were both dedicated herpetologists. They often traded pranks with Josh and Cordell, but the ongoing rivalry was grounded in friendship. The four of them were bros. “I hope they’re okay,” she said. Then a terrible thought occurred to her. “What about Tau?”
    Josh looked down at Zuma. “I thought only female lions hunted.”
    “They hunt more often.”
    “Maybe I should make a grab for the gun.”
    “I wouldn’t risk it,” Helena said. “She could jump up and attack you in a flash. Lions can move incredibly fast.”
    “How fast?”
    “Fifty miles an hour, in short sprints.”
    He touched one of the pouches on his belt. “I have pepper spray.”
    “How far does it go?”
    “Ten feet.”
    Zuma was at least twenty feet away from the pole.
    “I’ll give you the spray,” he said. “You keep an eye on her while I get the gun. If she comes at me, blast her.”
    Helena wasn’t on board with this plan. “She might not stop. It’s a deterrent, not a guarantee.”
    “So what do you want to do?” he asked,