“He’s, oww! He’s not my friend,” she answers through her gritted teeth.
Regret washes over me, “You’re right, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. He’s obviously a piece of shit,” my anger swells back up like ocean waves in a storm. “Why are you out here with him?” I try not to sound accusing when I ask, but the anger I have for the man that tried to rape her spills over into my tone.
Abbie’s eyes grow about two sizes and she freezes in place. I scared her, again.
Fuck.
I’m really not off to a great start here.
I fill my lungs and breathe out slowly, “Listen, I meant what I said about you being safe with me, okay? Would I be trying to help you right now if I had bad intentions?” I let myself meet her eyes. How can she be so beautiful? How old is she? From the looks of her supple, vibrant skin, she can’t be too old. I force myself to look back down at her injury, no good can come from studying her beauty.
“No, we’re not cops. Cecil is a private investigator and I am, I mean I was, his assistant.” She finally answers.
I nod and push my thumb into the fleshy part of her big toe. The color returns immediately, so the blood flow in her foot is good. “Private investigator? He doesn’t have any legal authority then,” I gently rock her foot to the side, no grinding noises.
Abbie flinches but she doesn’t cry out, her ankle seems to be growing by the minute, inflating like someone slipped a party balloon under her skin. “No, he wasn’t here to arrest you,” she squints up her eyes as I tilt her foot to the other side. “He was hired by Senator Turner to track you down. Cecil was supposed to get pictures of you and send back your GPS coordinates.”
“I see,” my lips twist down as I frown. My anger boils back up. I’ve spent countless hours over the past several months finding this perfect spot and turning it into my new home. As soon as the ground thawed, I began digging into this hillside, pulling out rocks with my bare, calloused hands until I hollowed it out. I built this entire place and almost everything in it, working eighteen hour days only to drop with exhaustion and soak in the amazing view off the cliff side each night.
My cabin isn’t perfect, but it’s my home. And now I have to abandon it. Abandon all my hard work, dedication and craftsmanship because these morons decided to try to find me. You need to control your temper, I remind myself. Scaring this girl is only going to make the entire gong show, worse.
I grit my teeth and push away my thoughts about the cabin. About my home. “You have a bad sprain, from what I can tell. You need to stay off your foot for a couple of days and it should start getting better. Wait here, okay?”
I stand up and grab a stainless steel thermos. It’s nice and cold. “Here,” I hand it to Abbie, “hold this against your ankle to help with the swelling, it’ll be best if we can fit your foot back in your boot. The laces give nice support for your ankle, the only shitty part is you’ll have to sleep with it on,” I shrug.
“That’s okay, I’m just glad it’s not broken,” she tenderly holds the thermos against her ankle and looks up at me. For a second I can easily picture her looking up at me like this from her knees as I slide my cock into her wet, warm mouth.
I close my eyes and twist my head away opening them only after I know she isn’t in my line of vision anymore. Fuck! I never asked to get stuck playing nurse to this girl. Now I’m here with someone whose presence makes me tense up with anger as her every movement seems to set my nervous system on fire with temptation.
“Okay, hold that on your ankle. I’m going to get the bed ready, you’re probably tired. We’ll get your boot back on and hit the hay. I’ll take another look at it tomorrow,” my words are too loud, too abrupt. I sound like I’m barking orders at a platoon instead of talking to a stunning young woman.
“You want me to sleep in your bed,” she swallows hard and looks across my modest cabin to the bed. It’s easy to spot since the bedroom, living room, dining area and kitchen are all in one big, open space. When I built this place, I wasn’t exactly planning to entertain houseguests so separation between spaces and privacy were never considerations.
“Trust me, it’s not what I want either, but I don’t have a sofa to crash on.” I sweep the flashlight over the corners of the room as if to prove that I’m not secretly hiding other sleeping accommodations in the shadows. “This way you’ll stay warm and safe until the morning. Then, maybe we can figure out something better. Let’s just deal with one crisis at a time, okay?” I nod at her ankle.
“Umm, I can just sleep on the floor,” she whispers and fidgets with the ends of her hair, nervously twisting them around her fingertips.
“That’s stupid, you’re not a dog. Besides, it might be June, but it still gets chilly in the middle of the night.”
“No, that’s okay,’ she insists. “If you can spare a blanket, I’ll be fine.”
I sigh but don’t argue. I’m not going to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to, including sleep next to me. I don’t blame her for her skepticism. Actually, I admire it. “Okay then, suit yourself,” I kneel back down. “Let’s see if we can get that boot back on now,” I grab her sock and ease it back on to her injured foot. Opening the top of the boot as wide as my fingers can stretch it, I slowly pull it on her foot. It’s snug, but her ankle fits back inside.
“Perfect, this should help give you the support you need,” I lace it up for her and stand back up, holding out my hand. “Let’s not make this weird, okay? I’ll help you into bed and we’ll both sleep in our full clothes on opposite sides.” I try one last time to talk some sense into her. “I understand that you’re shook up and you don’t exactly have a good reason to trust me, but you can,” I wait for her to reach up, but she doesn’t. Instead, she sits like a statue, like she’s catatonic.
“No,” she finally answers.
“Okay,” I hold up my hands in surrender. Crossing the cabin, I peel a blanket from my bed and bring it to her. If she wants to lie on the floor all night and try to catch some z’s with her teeth chattering, then that’s on her.
“Goodnight Abbie,” I walk away and climb into bed.
It’s been a long day. Carrying her through the woods has been exhausting. I only hope she heals up well enough to get out of here soon. I glance down at the foot of my bed and watch as she settles down on the floor and pulls the blanket over her. Survival skills don’t exactly seem to be her strong point. Oh well, I’ve done enough for her for one night, if she wants to be stubborn, that’s not my problem.
I let my eyelids droop closed. Now that I’m living here, my cabin flanked by nature’s protection, I never need to surround myself with pillows and pretend to be in a sniper’s blind anymore. I’ve been sleeping like a rock every night since I built this hidden place. I begin to drift into sleep when I hear a thump.
My eyes snap open and I see Abbie hopping on one foot across the floor, dragging my blanket behind her. I have half a mind to give her a hand, but don’t want to jump up and startle her. She makes her way over to the side of the bed and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can hear her breathing as she watches me. I pretend to sleep peacefully and listen as she carefully slips into my bed and pulls the covers up over her.
A smile spreads over my face as I let myself drift off into my dreams. I’m glad she finally came to her senses. Maybe there’s hope for her after all.
9
Abbie
My eyes flutter open and it takes a couple of seconds of staring at the wood ceiling to remember where I am. I’ve heard about people waking up and being confused about where they are. Not just because they spent the night before drinking or going home with some one-night stand, but because they travel so much. Jet-setters and adventurers who aren’t sure what country they’re waking up in, let alone what bed.
That’s never been my life. I’ve always started each predictable day in my predictable bed and lived my routine life until the sun predictably sets again. I’ve never woken up confused about where I was. Definitely
not from traveling too much. Not even from drinking too much.
This is a first.
I pat the empty bed beside me. He’s gone. I sit up and tilt my head to the side as I try to listen for him. Did he leave? I’m surprised by how disappointed I am by the thought.
My mind flickers to last night. The tender way he looked after me. Then, how like a man of his word, he didn’t try anything when I finally decided to lie down next to him rather than shivering on the floor. At one point, I did wake up to find him curled up to me with his arm draped over me, but it was innocent. If I’m being honest, I liked how it felt to lie in his strong arms. I felt safe. Ironic since he’s on the run for killing a man.
I twist on the bed and let my legs dangle over the side. Carefully I put my feet on the ground and a shot of pain radiates through my ankle, reminding me to keep off of it. I place my weight on my good foot and hobble to the entrance of his little cabin, expecting to see him just outside.
When I look out the window, I don’t see him, but I’m am overcome by an absolutely breathtaking view. Last night I could see the mountains and river below the scraggly cliff his cabin is perched beside. I’m greeted by the chirping of enthusiastic birds in the distance. But, besides them and the occasional rustling of wind in the trees, the silence is so peaceful.
“Hello?” I call out, instantly cringing and hoping that Cecil isn’t within earshot of this camp. When I last saw him, he was knocked out on the forest floor looking like the perfect entree for a hungry bear. After the shit he pulled last night, I hope a bear did find him. Hopefully it just mauled his dick off. That’s what he would get for trying to use it like a weapon.
A shiver runs over me as I rub my hands over my arms. Cole was right about the temperature here. Back in Texas, the start of June is already sweltering. Here, however, it’s gorgeous and sunny in the day and then still frigid after the sun sets. I remember reading up on the Yukon about how, by the end of this month, the sun stays up longer and longer until summer solstice when it circles around in the sky for twenty-four hours straight. They call it the land of the midnight sun. Though, I doubt I’ll be here long enough to see it. Then again, with my return plane ticket in the hands of an attempted rapist and any hopes of getting a paycheck dashed, I can’t help but wonder how I’ll leave.
As I sit back down on the edge of the bed Cole has put together, I soak in my surroundings in detail. Last night, I couldn’t make out much in here. It was all shadows and blurs and the pain in my ankle made it hard to think about anything else. In the sunlight, however, I can see the sparse shelter that Cole has called home for months now. I slowly check out the room, impressed that he built all of this alone.
He's definitely well stocked with supplies. My eyes trail over the shelf of stacked canned goods and the hunting gear against the other wall. My gaze drifts across the cabin to the end of the bed. I see a small stack of books. My curiosity is overwhelming. What could he be reading out here?
Shuffling down the edge of the bed, I keep my weight off my foot as I get closer to the pile. As I lean over them, I can see that the top book isn’t a novel, it’s a journal.
I guiltily look up to the door. Should I?
My hand hovers over the moleskin cover and my eyes snap back down to the book. I can’t help but wonder what kind of guy kills a man in cold blood, but then goes out of his way to save a woman he doesn’t know. Cole doesn’t seem like the stereotype of a murderer or psychopath, yet the crime speaks for itself. Is there insight on these written pages? Is there an explanation for the sexy walking contradiction that swooped in last night and carried me away in his arms?
I lean over the end of the bed and my fingers graze the cover. My skin tingles with excitement and nerves. I shouldn’t do this. I pull my hand away, but can’t help it from creeping back to the book, as if moving by its own quest for knowledge. Just for a flicker of a second, I imagine getting back and reporting his whereabouts to Senator Turner myself. A million dollars would change my life forever. And taking it away from a man who thinks it’s okay to force himself on a young woman in order to bring another man who executed a college boy, seems like a good way to earn it.
My fingertips touch the soft book cover and I crack it open, I breathe in deep as I see a picture of a young, gorgeous blonde in a wallet sized photo smiling up at me.
Who is she? Is this his girlfriend? His wife?
I study her delicate features, she looks young, but it’s impossible to guess her age. I lift up the photo and get absorbed in a story I create in my head about this girl I’ve never met. How he loves her and had to break her heart when he left for the Canadian border. I put the photo down with a shaky hand and a twisted gut. I think I’m actually feeling… jealous of her.
This is crazy.
I almost close the cover when I see a handwritten letter folded inside the book. I lift the beautifully embossed stationery and hold it against my chest. I want to read it, but it feels so wrong. Like a line that shouldn’t be crossed in the sand. I close my eyes and try to find the inner strength to put it back down. The self-control eludes me and I unfold the page.
Dear Cole,
“Find anything interesting?” My eyes snap up to Cole standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips looking down his nose at me. Literally.
I jump and drop the letter on top of the book and Cole lunges across the room, snatching it up. He lies it back down in his book and slams the cover shut, tucking it under his arm.
“So, let me get this straight,” he glares at me, “I protect you, bring you to safety, fix you up and you repay me by ransacking my personal belongings the second you think the coast is clear? Does that sum this up?” He clutches the notebook tight in his hand.
I swallow hard, my tongue feels thick and I can’t find my words. Hot tears spring to the corners of my eyes as I look down to the ground. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Everyone is always so sorry! After they get caught,” his voice rumbles making me tremble. “So, let me ask you again,” I can’t face him, but I can feel his eyes burning a trail over my skin, “find anything interesting?”
10
Abbie
“Is this more of your top-notch detective work? Huh, Columbo? You think you’re gonna rifle through my stuff and find what? Details about the murder? Maybe a signed confession?” He sneers.
I keep my eyes on the ground. Cole is blocking my path to the exit, not that I’d make it far on my ankle if I tried to run anyway. I never should’ve gone through his things. Why couldn’t I leave it alone?
“Cause if you want to know anything you just need to ask,” his voice claps like thunder in my ears as his broad frame hovers over me. “You already know I killed him, so what more do you want? A play by play about how I stalked him, learned his routine, waited to sneak into his house to take him out? I’m an open book sweetheart, you don’t have to go poking around through my stuff to find out what you want to know.”
I swallow hard, I can hear the anger blooming around his words like a nuclear mushroom cloud. The heat of his rage bursts from him like a radiation blast. I don’t want to say or do anything that’s going to make this worse. He doesn’t exactly sound remorseful about what he did, if anything, he sounds proud. Not that I’m about to call him out on it. I don’t want to become his next victim.
“I was just trying to get a better sense of who you are,” the fear in my heart trembles in my voice. “I know I shouldn’t have looked, but after you helped me last night I guess I was looking for a reason to stop being so scared of you. I’m sorry,” tears spill onto my cheeks and I sniffle as I wipe them away quickly. I’m definitely not confessing my brief thoughts about selling him out and taking the money. I may not have much life experience, but I’m no idiot.
Cole doesn’t speak. His silence is more terrifying than his words. At least when he was yelling at me I knew what was going through his head, now, I’m left guessing as he stands perfectly still keeping me prisoner of his gaze.
“You’re right,” his voice is so soft that I can’t help but raise my head and peer up at him just to make sure it’s still the same man standing there.
“I, I am?” I hold my breath, hoping the compassion and understanding I see in his softened features is real.
“Yes, I didn’t think about your point of view, okay? I’m sorry. I was so focussed on getting you back here and mending your ankle that I never took the time to really imagine how scared you must be feeling. I know that from what you know about me it must be difficult to think I’m not some kind of monster, but I’m not. I’m not a bad guy at all. Look, if you think it’ll give you peace of mind to read through my stuff then go ahead,” he holds out the journal to me but I don’t move.
Is this a trick?
“Take it,” he insists and I reach my hand up to gingerly pluck it from his broad hand.
“It’s okay, I don’t need to read anything. I didn’t see anything anyway, well, just the picture of that beautiful girl,” I admit tilting my head as shame floods me.
“That’s April,” his voice is flat and his thick lips pull down.
“Is she your wife? Or your girlfriend?” I don’t mean to blurt out the questions, but like a curious cat that falls from a balcony and walks away only to do it all again a week later, I don’t learn my lessons easily.
“No,” he runs his hand through his sandy hair and rubs the back of his neck. He looks at the book in my hands and then meets my gaze. In his deep blue eyes I can see the agony twisting inside him, “That’s my sister. And thanks to Trent fucking Turner, that entitled asshole Senator’s son, she’s dead.”
11
Cole
“What?” She shakes her head slowly, “he killed her? I never read anything about that…” she squints off into the distance, like she’s trying to read the details in an invisible file she’s probably poured over a hundred times.
Virgin for the Woodsman Page 4
