Read Online Wild Hearts by Jessica Burkhart - Free Book Online Page A

rocks.
    â€œYou’ll see,” he said. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and watched him for a second. He looked around six foot one or two. In his side pocket, a pair of leather gloves peeked out, and what looked like the top of a pocketknife stuck out of his back pocket. I wondered if he got his arms so chiseledfrom weights or ranch work. A weird scent hit my nostrils, and I sniffed the air.
    â€œWhat’s that smell?” I asked. “It smells like rotten eggs. You’re lucky this wasn’t a date, or you would have so bombed.”
    Logan laughed. “I don’t smell a thing. Must be you.”
    â€œHa-ha,” I said, holding my nose. “Really, what is it?”
    â€œThat would be sulfur.” He slowed his stride and pushed his hat back on his head. No wonder no one moved to this town. They were gassed out.
    â€œFrom what?” I asked.
    â€œFrom this.” He grinned and pointed to a smooth piece of land a few yards ahead that wasn’t covered in rocks. It looked like gray mud from a spa.
    We walked up to the patch of mud and I peered down at it.
    â€œWhat am I supposed to be seeing—Oh!” I jumped. Bubbles popped in the mud. “No way!”
    â€œIt’s a mud pot,” Logan said. “Don’t even try to get closer than this. The mud is hot enough to burn skin.”
    â€œThat’s what the sulfur smell was, huh?” I leaned a little closer and pulled my camera over my head.
    â€œYeah, it smells awful, but if you can stand it, it’s amazing to see,” Logan said as he ran his eyes across my face. I could see him taking me in, the way I’d done with him earlier. I clamped my teeth down on the inside of my cheek to keep from blushing.
    The mud pots were out in the middle of nowhere. Like a treasure with no map. Behind us, the rocky hill shouldered acres of tall grass and flowers. If I looked straight over the mud pots, I could see the base of Blackheart Mountain.
    I adjusted the camera without thinking—it was all like second nature. I pointed the lens toward the bubbles. I leaned in, balancing on my toes.
    â€œWhoa,” Logan said. I felt him move in and place a steadying, strong hand atop each of my hips. “I don’t want to take you to the hospital with third-degree burns. Take your pictures. There’s no rush this time. I don’t have my truck to rev at you.”
    I zoomed in on the mud pot and tried to focus
myself—
not the camera. It was difficult with Logan’s palms and fingers radiating heat through my jeans.
    Blinking, I concentrated on the shots and got my focus back. Tried not to visualize his warm brown eyes and tan face. Thankfully, my no-boyfriends-until-college rule was firmly in place.
    â€œOkay,” I said, stepping back. “I got some great photos.”
    Logan grinned.
    I followed him away from the mud pots and we got back on the ATV.
    â€œWhere are we going now?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his waist.
    â€œSomewhere really special,” he said. “It’s not far.”
    We left the mud pots and the sulfur smell behind us as Logan eased the ATV up a slight hill. I could feel his washboard abs.
Don’t even go there
, my nagging subconscious told me. I turned my face to the side and rested my right cheek gently on Logan’s back. He didn’t react, so I relaxed my neck muscles and let my head fully rest on him. The sun warmed my back. Logan gave off a vibe that not many people had—he didn’ttalk only to prevent silence. He didn’t make lulls in conversation feel awkward.
    Logan slowed and turned off the ATV when we reached the hilltop. We climbed off the four-wheeler and into thick, emerald-green grass that came up to my knees.
    â€œThis view,” I said. “Wow.” The grass stretched across a plain that turned into gentle rolling hills in the distance. Hundreds, or maybe thousands, of reddish orange flowers