Of course, that depended at least in part on who showed up at the bar this afternoon and how they acted.
Maya intended to get to know some of the people around here, particularly the few locals who had already been generous with donations. This wasn’t the way she’d hoped to get them together, but it should work.
Now, she walked toward the steps, following the park guys whose hands were full of the town’s electronic equipment they had collected. Her arms were full, too, and she stopped at the top of the steps to rearrange what she carried so she wouldn’t fall.
She shouldn’t have been pleased to have Ryan reach up to steady her—but she was.
“Thanks,” she told him as he held her arm.
He didn’t immediately let go, either, as she reached the last step. She made herself pull gently away, not wanting to encourage him to think she had any interest in him except as an animal advocate.
Although...did she want him to be interested in her in any other way?
No. Of course not.
“My car is parked just past the bar,” she told Ryan. He was watching her with very deep brown eyes. She hadn’t looked at him this closely before but couldn’t help appreciating how good-looking he was, with angular planes on his face and dark brown hair cut short. She turned slightly to try to prevent his recognizing that she’d been studying him. “You can just go to the bar, and I’ll meet you there after I put some of this stuff in my trunk.”
He reached toward her and lifted one of her tote bags and a few other things she held, lightening her load tremendously. “I’ll carry these. You lead the way.”
She couldn’t help looking at him again then—continuing to appreciate his tantalizing appearance as well as his gentlemanliness.
Still holding a few things she wanted to carry with her, including her tablet computer, she headed across the grass to the sidewalk, and then in the direction of the bar and where she had parked her car. Both Ryan and Rocky stayed beside her. The three of them pretty much took up the whole sidewalk, but other people didn’t seem upset about stepping aside to let them pass. Maya shot each of them smiles—and they smiled back at her as they seemed to enjoy Rocky.
“Nice town,” Ryan said. He was watching the people, too, so his reference to the town seemed to mean its inhabitants. At this angle, she was glad to look around nearly everywhere but toward him.
“It sure is. I like the people—most of those I’ve met anyway—and this area is definitely charming.”
She’d enjoyed sightseeing before, on her way to the park. She just hoped the town maintained its charm by continuing to be supportive of the return of the wolves.
For right now, talking in generalities about this area seemed pleasant enough as they walked. They soon reached her car, after passing Berry’s Bar on the way. It looked crowded inside despite the time being early afternoon. Were these all people from her talk wanting to discuss wildlife some more? She hoped so.
She opened the trunk of the sedan she had rented and Ryan put his armloads of her stuff into it. She did the same with what she was carrying.
Ryan closed the trunk. “I’ll be interested in how things go at the bar this afternoon. And I enjoyed your talk before. But I wanted to say something before we’re with the crowd.” He stood in front of her, Rocky still at his side, and frowned, which removed some of the allure from his good looks.
“What’s that?” She felt sure she wouldn’t like whatever he had to say.
She was right.
“I know about your organization, and I like what WHaM stands for. I’ve heard about how you go talk to groups like this while you confirm and count sightings of endangered animals. But—do all the talks wind up with results similar to yours? I mean, not only did you get people there who are excited about the prospect of a new influx of wildlife, but those who are against it. Outspokenly against it. Doesn’t that harm your position and your organization?”
“No,” she said flatly. She turned away, starting to walk toward the bar, and Ryan and Rocky joined her. “Well...maybe.” She didn’t look at them. “Controversy sometimes stirs up people who didn’t even know they had an opinion. So far I think that’s been helpful.”
“Maybe,” Ryan said. “But it can also cause problems both for your group and for the animals—potentially risky for both of you. I’d suggest you back off a bit, though I’d like to know more about your intentions. Let’s talk about it another time.”
They’d reached the crowded sidewalk in front of Berry’s Bar. “Sure,” Maya said, realizing that the idea of getting together with the gorgeous, sexy man to talk appealed more than a little. But...could it be risky? She hoped not. Should she back off? That wasn’t her.
What they would talk about might only rev up the controversy she knew was there.
* * *
Ryan saw Piers as soon as he entered behind Maya, with Rocky at his side. He’d told his aide to get here ahead of him and save some seats.
Were dogs allowed in here? If questioned, he would just claim that Rocky was his service dog. He even had paperwork in his pocket that would confirm that—if the person asking didn’t dig too deeply.
Inhaling the strong, predictable scent of alcohol, he waved, and Piers waved back, gesturing for him to join the group sitting on stools at the bar. Ryan therefore maneuvered through the crowd—and away from Maya.
Which in some ways he hated to do.
The woman was beautiful and sassy and loved wild animals. What wasn’t there to like about her?
The fact that she might be putting herself—and his role here—in danger?
Could be. That was why he had asked her to back off.
Sure, there was likely to be attention regarding each new wolf sighting around here, especially if they continued and grew in numbers. But he needed a bit of quiet in his own search regarding the inherent nature of those incoming wolves, not people talking and arguing, or worse.
And he didn’t get the sense Maya would pay any attention to him.
“What’s wrong?” Piers asked quietly as he reached the bar.
“Nothing, I hope.” But his aide knew him well. “We’ll talk later,” he amended.
“Fine.”
Ryan ordered a dark beer, which was also what Piers had in front of him. He decided to confront the situation of Rocky right off and requested that the bartender, a sizable fellow with a full head of hair and a beard, bring a bowl of water.
“Sure thing,” the bartender said. “Nice-looking dog. Is he yours?”
More or less, Ryan thought. He certainly treated his cover dog as his own. “Yep,” he said. “Rocky is one really good boy.”
“I bet.” When the bartender brought a metal bowl half-filled with water to the customer side of the bar and laid it at Ryan’s feet—next to several pairs of feet belonging to
