by Olivia Fox
“Well, thanks for letting me stay the night. I appreciate it.”
After breakfast, she actually put a blindfold on me before taking me to my truck, and as an extra layer of precaution, she drove in circles, on side roads, away from town, and back again to disorient me, so I would have no idea where she lived or how to gain access to her property.
“Paranoia will destroy ya, you know, little girl?”
“‘Better safe than sorry,’ I always say. Think you can find your way back to town?” She pulled the Glock out from under her jacket and uncuffed me, her eyes backlit with the glimmer of amusement and crinkled at the corners.
“Careful now, that looked like the beginning of a smile. Don’t want your ‘tough girl’ reputation being sullied.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’d tell you to get lost, but such tactics landed you at my front door the last time.”
This time my internal voice was Daddy, not Dom. Okay, baby girl, Daddy’s going now. I promise I’ll be back soon. Instead, I said, “Wasn’t so bad, was it? I’d do it again, if it weren’t for the handcuffs. Those were a bit much.” I rubbed my one good wrist under my arm to soothe the irritation. “By the way, you never told me your name.”
“You never asked.”
Her sass made my one good palm tingle with the urge to deliver discipline. “Tell you what, next time we see each other, you can tell me if you feel like it. I’m Jasper, by the way.”
I ducked into my pickup and watched her for as long as I could in the rearview mirror.
Idiot, you let her get away.
And so the sexual dry spell continues.
Avoidance of women was my modus operandi since my accident. It had been hard to feel attractive when a piece of me was missing—a by-product of the explosion that no one really talked about. I was a big fucker and worked hard to keep my existing parts in good shape, so it wasn’t like I never got offers from the ladies.
But I had arrived at a point where hookups didn’t do it for me anymore.
When I thought about my fascination with the mysterious girl from the mountains, I had a before-its-time feeling it was plenty more than sex alone that I ached for.
Chapter Six
I dropped Mr. Tall, Dark, and Manly off at his truck, and he didn’t even try and get my number. Jasper kept a polite distance, and it was almost as if there wasn’t a pistol pointed straight at his package the entire time.
Maybe the Glock had something to do with his just not being that into me. Ya think?
I returned to my treehouse, glad I could be on my own once more, no interruption or intrusion.
The thick blanket he slept under last night was folded neatly on the couch. I took it to the linen closet, and as I lifted it up to the shelf, there was a whiff of nutmeg and woods mixed with a freshly sliced lime. The liquid longing flowing through me stopped at my core and squeezed.
Bullshit. I didn’t long for anyone. I didn’t need anyone. Living out here on a hundred acres, not dealing with people, was bliss—my sanctuary.
I climbed into my solar-powered Polaris after setting the electric chainsaw on the seat next to me and went out into the woods to find firewood. I spent the afternoon chopping alders and hauling the logs up to the wood stacking area beneath the tree house where I could cut them into woodstove-sized chunks.
I wasn’t thinking of him. Not one bit.
Liar, my inner floozy accused.
I sat on my front porch on the rocker with a steaming cup of coffee. The sun came up tangerine pink in the sky over the tree-topped mountains. It had been two months since Lost Dude stumbled upon my place—not that I was counting. There was plenty else to think about around here, plenty to do.
Daily chore list:
1.Fill firewood stands with cut wood so it dried for winter.
2.Start flat of broccoli in the greenhouse.
3.Write 2,000 words for my new reverse harem series. (Who knew smutty shit sold so well?)
In the middle of my preparations, Shabby, my raccoon bestie, trotted up to my feet and put his paws on my shins. He sniffed around the rim of the coffee cup to see if it held anything of interest.
“Decided to come for a visit, did ya? You’ve been mighty scarce lately. What have you been doing? Carousing? Up to no good with the ladies?” I scratched the sweet spot under his chin, and he leaned into it.
I could almost read his tiny critter mind. Oh yeah, that’s the spot.
As if he understood my words, he chattered and squeaked back at me. I picked him up and put him on my lap, rubbing at his soft underbelly. I’d found him as a kit. The coyotes had likely made a feast of his family, and he was orphaned, hiding under my porch. He snuck out, tempted by the tantalizing smell of my breakfast oats one day. They were still a favorite treat of his.
Shabby led a good life between two homes: the wild surroundings and my treehouse whenever he felt like going out for a meal. He was too wild to be tamed entirely and only came back to civilization—aka my house—when his tummy rumbled in that direction.
“We had a visitor while you were gone. You would’ve liked him. He smelled like West Indian Lime cologne.”
Shabby began to clean his face between his paws as if to say he wasn’t impressed.
“Well, I found him fascinating. He woke up my appetite, like oats in a bowl spark yours. He was pretty delicious.”
He had even seemed interested in me. But the reality was, ever since I killed three local criminals with the firing end of my gun, people looked at me differently. As soon as my hunky and uninvited guest heard my story, he too would act as if at any moment I’d drop my basket and begin blasting.
It wasn’t their fault, no matter how painful it felt, when I’d pass someone on the sidewalk and they’d freeze in place, like prey hiding from a predator. Maybe if they didn’t move, I wouldn’t see them and they could make their escape. Their instincts were practically audible.
The irony was, I was as scared as they were, reliving the event over and over again in my memory. If I hadn’t fired my weapon, I’d be the dead one. Sometimes it seemed like it might be the lesser of two evils: death over flashbacks and perpetual guilt. Even if I tried to explain I was haunted by that night and would never feel safe or trustworthy again, people would only see me as a vicious killer cop.
Shabby paused his bath, staring at me, his tiny paws poised as if in prayer and pointed toward me in accusation. It pulled my mind back to the more current dilemma at hand.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time I got laid. Unfortunately, I didn’t get his number, and I’m kind of hard to find.“ I carried Shabby inside and put some sliced apples in a bowl for him. His nosedive into the ripe fruit made it clear he had forgotten all about the mysterious stranger who paid a call while he was out doing his rambling raccoon routine.
I wish I could say the same.
Chapter Seven
God, she was cranky.
Something must’ve made her that way.
It took all kinds around here. They didn’t call it the Lost Coast for nothing, and it was common for people to live off the grid in the middle of nowhere.
I knew it was old-fashioned, but for some reason her striking beauty made her extreme solitude more of an oddity.
Why? Was it because I thought it was a huge waste to sequester her prettiness away from the world? From me in particular?
Was she a recluse?
She certainly knew how to protect herself from harm. The sight of her relaxed poise while she aimed the barrel of her gun at my forehead crossed my mind. Respect. She was clearly well-trained on how to shoot and wasn’t relying on anyone else to do it for her. Where did she acquire such talent?
And yet, thinking of her alone out there brought out the Dom I kept hidden most of the time. It wasn’t my place to protect her, and she certainly wasn’t asking. But what the hell was she hiding from?
God knew men could be pigs. I learned firsthand at my last job, the one I had before opening my gun shop in t
own.
I worked private security for Bella Reed, the actress who starred in the famous Disgrace TV series. With my gladiator build, four years’ experience as an army MP, and physical security credential, it wasn’t hard for me to find work in LA. At the time, Bella was barely entering her superstar status.
Once fame hit for real, she was harassed by a certain superfan whose attention was unwanted and extreme, and I watched as she grew to be a shell of her former self. First it was a small panic attack when he mailed a letter to her house; then when the contents of those letters revealed he was watching her every move, she experienced dizziness, loss of breath, and rapid heart rate. Eventually, the confident and classy lady I started working for was afraid to leave her house.
Even her home became unsafe. The ruthless stalker found a way inside her home, leaving a sexually explicit poem and nude drawings of her on paper that was burnt around the edges along with a dozen roses in a vase on the kitchen counter. Luckily, Bella was at the studio rehearsing at the time.
Unfortunately, one of the jealous fans left a “gift” they knew I would screen for Bella. I was a threat: her huge, male protector who came between them and their object of obsession.
Never let your guard down, my time as an MP had taught me that.
But I was exhausted.
Bella developed a strong attachment to me—some might say an unhealthy and overly dependent attachment. She only felt safe if I was guarding her and started extending my hours so I could stand outside her locked bedroom door at night. I wasn’t sleeping enough.
It only took one sloppy mistake to lose a limb.
It was Bella’s birthday. In my sleep-deprived state, I thought nothing of picking up the beautifully wrapped package someone had left at the front gate.
Stupid.
Should have known.
My Spidey sense went off right before the pipe bomb, disguised as a birthday gift, detonated as I lifted it off the ground.
It blew off my left arm.
Bella’s reliance on me went away as soon as my ability to defend her was compromised.
I completely understood, but that didn’t make it easier to take. Luckily, my pa, a professional poker player, offered me a business loan so I could open up my own gun shop back home in Briarville.
I grew up with guns, hunting with my dad and uncles. Now they allowed me to make a living.
The Sitka spruce and Douglas fir blurred past as I drove to town.
I laughed at the memory of little Ms. Hermit blindfolding me to take me back to my truck. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I could find her place again.
Not that I wanted to. She was way too crabby for me. I preferred my women like my holsters, flexible and pliable.
Oh, let’s be real. I needed a woman to obey. Willingly, of course, but also enthusiastically.
A cantankerous female living alone in the woods was the polar opposite of submissive. She certainly did qualify as a brat though. The thought of bringing her to heel had my dick pushing up against the steering wheel.
My cock didn’t know shit about restraint.
Two Months Later
I walked into the saloon and saw my best friend, Aiden, sitting at a booth waiting for me. He already had a pint in front of him.
“Hey, bro.” I slid into a chair across from my bud, placed my hook in my right hand, and leaned forward. “Nice to have you back.“ Aiden had taken a temporary relief veterinarian job and had been out of the area for a bit.
“Thanks, good to be back, Jasper.“
We caught up on the basics, and I brought up the topic occupying my mind for the past sixty days. “Yeah, so you’re not going to believe this. I got lost in the woods.” I picked at the beer label, and my stomach complained over the smell of hot wings in the air, demanding to be fed.
“You? You’re kidding.“ Aiden gestured to the waitress who came over and took his order of super nachos, and I ordered an avocado burger and fries.
“Nope. I went hiking, and once I was out, the fog set in thick. I could barely see two feet in front of me.“
“Oh man.”
“Yeah, it was the weirdest thing, almost like a fairy tale or something. I was stumbling along blind as a bat, and all the sudden I came across this tree house right out of a fantasy novel. I wouldn’t have known it was there but the smell of a wood fire led me through the forest to an elevated walkway that wound its way to the front door of the full-sized house in the trees.. Funniest thing, the woman who opened the door was a total freaking babe. Ornery as hell.“
Aiden paused with his pint halfway to his mouth and cocked his head at me, “Wait a minute. You were out by the MacLoud property?“
“As a matter of fact, I was. Why do you ask?“ The wooden table pressed against my elbows as I leaned in to listen.
“By chance, did this so-called ‘babe’ have blonde hair and thick, black glasses?”
I nodded. “Again, Aiden, how do you know these things?“
Aiden smacked his forehead. “Because, dude, there aren’t too many tree house dwellings I know of, and that ‘total freaking babe’ is my sister.“
I nearly spit out my beer.
“Oh shit.”
Chapter Eight
“Your sister? You never mentioned having a sister. We’ve known each other for years, man.“
“You may have noticed she likes her privacy. To say she’s a loner would be a huge understatement.”
A tipsy patron made their curvy route toward the juke box and uncannily played Patsy’s “Sweet Dreams,” reminding of my breakfast with the hottie off the beaten track. “Yeah, I noticed. She covered my head with a hood when she drove me back to my truck the next day and then drove in circles to make sure I couldn’t find her place later on.”
Aiden’s shoulders bounced up and down and his eyes twinkled at hearing his sister’s extremes. “Sounds like something she would do.” He paused, picked up a napkin, and began tearing it into small pieces. “She’s been a hermit ever since the incident she had on the force.“
“What incident?“
The napkin scraps made a small, snowy pile in front of him, which he began plucking at. “Look, I’ve said too much already. She’d have my hide if she knew I was talking about her. Tell you what, I’m going out there to take her groceries this weekend. If you want, I can give her your contact info and let her know you’d like to see her again.”
“You’d be doing me a solid, man. Look, I know she’s your sister, but something about her got under my skin. Not being sexual here, bro.”
“Whoa, enough. Not interested in hearing anything to do with sex and my sister.”
“My bad. Look, it might sound impossible, but it’s been two months and she’s constantly on my mind. This isn’t about a hookup.”
“Better not be.” His nachos arrived along with my burger, and he shoved an impressive stack in his mouth. Finished chewing, he said, “Look, you’re a good guy. You can understand I worry about her being isolated. It’s not like she can’t handle herself, but I hate to see her living in the backwoods alone.“ He pushed another imposing pile of nachos past his lips and spoke around them. “Besides, it’s getting kind of old doing her shopping.”
FOLLOW YOUR SOUL
“She fell in love with his soul before she could touch his skin. If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”
- Blanca Lamarre
Chapter Nine
It shouldn’t have surprised me Aiden knew the random dude who showed up at my tree house in the middle of the night. It was a small town. You didn’t have to go looking very far to find a connection to about every citizen who lived here.
After a couple of weeks of my brother’s razzing, I finally gave in and sent an email.
Dear Jasper,
Sorry about the hood over your head.
Mia
Maybe it was because I had gone so long without company while living out here in the woods on my own. Prolonged solitude probably cont
ributed to my fixation on a man with whom I had spent less than twenty-four hours.
These woods were where I ran to shortly after the killings, seeking sanctuary from the incident that once played over and over in my mind like a scene from a Quentin Tarantino movie. Nowadays those memories visited less frequently, and for that I was grateful. If they did decide to pop in and wear out their welcome, then a nightcap or six usually chased them off.
Out here beneath the trees, it was safe. I could disappear into the forest like a deer trail into the undergrowth. There were no bovine eyes, which was how the townspeople’s peepers appeared, staring at me without the slightest shame. It always crossed my mind that there was not a lot of thought behind the curious stares of the gawking Briarville citizens, it was pure, animal interest, as if I were an unfamiliar creature wandering into their herd. Those rubberneckers confronted me in the post office, mercantile, pizza place, market, and feed store, until I felt I couldn’t escape the accusatory gaping.
It had been two years in the hinterlands, and my brother allowed my retreat from society by picking up my mail and groceries. On the rare occasion he left town, I had a discreet, local girl deliver my supplies to me at a roadside pullout between my place and town. For the most part, it kept me out of sight and out of mind from those who formed their own conclusions about me being a loose cannon.
But it certainly didn’t do much for my sex life. That was a side of myself that had been napping.
Until he came along.
The greenhouse was permeated with pungent tomato plant smells and the sound of rain on its glass roof, providing the sanctuary I needed from hanging around waiting like a teenage girl for an email reply from Jasper. I weeded and watered in the greenhouse, and when I came inside for a plate of cheese and crackers, it was there.
