by Taylor Dean
I hear a deep sigh from behind me. I don’t know how I hear it above the roar in my head. It sounds as though it’s miles away and yet whispered in my ear. Then the man says something unintelligible under his breath as his conscience gets the best of him. I hear that loud and clear.
“Wait,” he says. “I’m sorry. Of course I’ll help you. Please come back.”
Slowly, I turn to face him, ready to express my gratitude. The clouds roll in at that very moment and the sky darkens. A few raindrops land on my face and I instinctively turn my head toward the heavens, hoping moisture will inadvertently land in my waiting mouth.
Instead, the simple act of moving my head leaves me reeling and the lights go out as I fall to the ground in a crumpled heap.
CHAPTER
Four
“C’MON, TIME TO wake up now.”
The deep voice invades my senses. Slowly, I open my heavy eyes and wonder where I am. I don’t recognize my surroundings. Cool air hits my skin and I feel goosebumps rise on my arms.
It feels so good to be cold.
A cool washcloth covers my forehead, but my mouth still feels like sandpaper.
As my eyes focus, I see the unfriendly ladder man standing over me, looking at me with furrowed eyebrows and a serious expression. I recognize concern in his eyes, but his demeanor is not exactly welcoming. His expression is still hard and I know he’s not happy that I passed out on his property and nominated him by default as my caregiver.
“Where am I?” I mumble. I look down and I see small bags of ice cradled next to various spots on my body. I’m surprised by how nice they feel and equally surprised that I’m not shivering. My sandals have been removed and cool washcloths cover my swollen feet, as if the man washed my dirty feet for me and then left the cool cloths there to help cool me down. The relief I feel is enormous. I’m still in my dusty clothes and I long to tear them off, at the same time I’m glad my handsome hero didn’t take it upon himself to relieve me of my sweaty clothes. The hero world does have boundaries.
“My motorhome.”
The man leans down and wraps his hand behind my head. He helps me sit up a little and places a cold bottled water to my lips. “Take it slow and easy.”
I don’t. I gulp down every ounce until my burning throat feels assuaged. Water never tasted so good. Suddenly it’s the sweetest nectar I’ve ever known. I release a breath of relief and collapse against his arm feeling weak as a newborn kitten.
“See how that settles. Give you more in a bit.”
The man softly lowers my head to the pillow. For all of his curtness, he’s surprisingly gentle. His voice is deep and somehow comforting. Angry rain is pounding down with vengeance on the roof of his motorhome and I’m thankful I’m not out there desperately trying to drink from nature. In my eagerness, I probably would’ve drowned myself. I’ve lost all faith in my survival skills.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were ill.”
“Not ill. Just thirsty,” I manage to say, even while knowing that isn’t true. I collapsed. I think that counts as ill.
“Getting bad out there. Roads are flooding all around us,” he informs me.
I move to sit up. I need to get to Roby before the flooding gets bad. “I’m fine now, really.” Dizziness makes a liar out of me and I plop back down onto the pillow. I’ve never felt so weak and tired in my entire life.
“You’re not fine. Out of danger, though. That’s something.”
“Thank you for helping me.”
The man says nothing as he softly rubs cream on my arms. Whatever it is, it immediately soothes my sunburn.
“What day is it?” he asks and I know he’s testing my mental awareness.
“Ssssunday,” I answer as my head spins. I just want to close my eyes and sleep this off. I’ve always been a heavy sleeper and once I’m out, I’m out.
“Do you know where you are?”
I feel irritated by his questions because I’m beginning to drift and I don’t seem to have any control over the impulse. Since I already know I’m in his motorhome, I assume he means geographical location. “Outside of Roby, Texassss.” Now let me sleep.
“How’d you get here?”
I groan. “Finn kicked me out of hissss car.” My words slur as I feel sapped of strength.
“You’re gonna be fine. Promise. Relax and get some rest. You’re safe now.”
I appreciate that he’s ensuring I’m coherent, but the world is turning blurry and my eyelids feel as though they’re weighted down. A fatigue I’ve never felt before has overcome me. I know I shouldn’t give in to it, I know I should get to Roby, but I just don’t have the strength.
The man lifts me up again and I feel another water bottle touch my lips.
“Drink a little more if you can.”
Somehow I manage to gulp it down, water spilling sloppily down the sides of my cheeks. I bask in the sensation. Water means life and I want to live.
A towel gently dabs at my face, drying the errant water and I feel thankful for this man’s help. Now that my thirst has been quenched, I just want to give in to sleep.
At last I do. And oddly enough, I feel safe.
WHEN I AWAKEN, my stomach grumbles as the smell of bacon and eggs entices me.
It’s morning and I’ve been completely unaware of the passing of time.
The roof of the motorhome still reverberates with the constant thrum of pounding rain. I feel like it’s mocking me. If only it had rained sooner yesterday. Of course, rain would’ve brought on a whole new set of problems as I attempted to hike to Roby. I don’t want to battle the elements ever again. They’ll win. Every. Time.
All I remember of the night is intervals of thirstily drinking whenever the man offered me water. I pull the cool washcloth from my forehead and slowly sit up. The ice bags are gone, comfy socks that are too big for me cover my feet, and I’m encased in a soft blanket. I’m sleeping in a compartment reminiscent of being on a train. I pull the drapes that give my bunk privacy to one side and lower my legs to the floor. I wait a few minutes to see how I feel and I think I’m good as new. A little shaky, but I feel so much better than yesterday—the worst day of my life.
“You okay?” the man asks, startling me. He’s holding tongs and a dishtowel is draped over one shoulder. Very domestic.
“Yeah. I think so.”
He cocks his head in the direction of a door. “Porcelain throne is in there.”
Oddly, a smile does not accompany his levity. I appreciate it nonetheless. I was right about one thing; he’s a handsome man. No doubt about it, he was not a mirage. It makes me wonder why he’s alone out here. Surely he must be taken.
“Imagine you’re hungry. Breakfast is just about ready.”
I take a step and I’m surprised by how unsteady I feel. He’s at my side quickly and holds the crook of my arm as I walk and I’m thankful for the support. But it doesn’t stop me from noticing the warmth of his skin on mine and how good it feels. The sensation takes me by surprise and makes me pause for a moment as he questions, “Sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” Just one touch and my heart wishes for so many things. I squelch the longing deep inside of me. I don’t want to admit that I’ve never really liked the touch of a man and yet I love the feel of his hand on my arm. I berate myself for my wandering thoughts and remind myself to focus. Obviously, I’m not in my right mind.
“Thank you,” I say and disappear behind the closed door. I need a few minutes to compose myself before facing him again. I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder what to do next. I’m trapped inside this motorhome with a man I know nothing about. For all I know, he wants to torture me to death. What if . . .
I stop myself from thinking about episodes of Criminal Minds. This man took care of me when I passed out on his property. He made sure I stayed hydrated throughout the night. He wants to help me, not hurt me. He’s making breakfast for me and helping me walk for heaven’s sake. What am I worried about?
I�
�m safe. I’m completely safe.
A quick knock on the door makes me jump. “Extra toothbrush is in the cabinet.”
I may be safe, but I’m still jumpy as a jack rabbit. My mouth feels drier than dry in spite of all the water I’ve downed. A toothbrush is a tender mercy. “Thanks.” My voice is scratchy and I’m sure my belated gratitude fell on deaf ears.
I wash my face, brush my teeth, smooth down my long hair, and try to make myself look presentable. I wish I had my make-up bag. I feel so displaced without all of my belongings. I take a look at my long blond hair and my blue eyes. That’s all the color I get today. I guess I’ll have to do just as I am.
I glance at the shower, longing to languish under the spray of water and feel clean, but I don’t want to make the man wait on me and let our breakfast get cold. I notice the shower has a tall stool sitting in it, as well as several support bars to prevent slipping. I briefly wonder why all that is needed, but other things are winning my attention.
I walk out and take in my surroundings. I see a cushy loveseat, two recliners in front of a flat screen TV, a small kitchen, and a built in dining room table. The private bunk bed sleeping compartments from which I just awoke are behind me. Everything is designed to be luxurious, yet compact, and I can tell this isn’t the economy motorhome. It has all the bells and whistles. A master bedroom sits at the back of the motorhome. I can see a glimpse of a perfectly made bed.
Finally, my eyes rest on the man. He’s watching me with a thoughtful expression. “Morning,” he says with a deep nod.
“Good morning.” This feels awkward. He took care of me all night and yet he’s a total stranger.
“Hungry?”
“Starving. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.” The complimentary breakfast our hotel offered wasn’t exactly amazing. Especially when Finn sulked through the entire meal. I wish I’d drank more than one mug of herb tea during the course of the meal. No wonder I so quickly succumbed to heat exhaustion. It’s all the liquid I’d had all day. Finn was annoyed by restroom stops, so I was being careful.
I don’t ever want to be with a man I have to constantly be careful around. Finn certainly taught me what I don’t want in a man. Good to know. At least my time with him wasn’t a total waste. Everyone says that’s what dating is all about; finding what you do and don’t like in a possible mate. I just didn’t know the experience was going to be this painful.
I join the man at the table. He serves me scrambled eggs, a few slices of bacon, a piece of buttered toast, and a couple of orange slices. Everything looks delicious, but the first thing I do is chug my glass of ice cold water. I can’t get enough. My thirst is quenched, but the bad memory lingers on and makes me crave water. I wonder if it’s a feeling I’ll always remember. I’ll never take a simple glass of water for granted.
He raises his eyebrows at me as I set my glass down, but doesn’t say anything. He refills my glass from a pitcher.
“This looks delicious. Thank you . . .” I pause, wanting to personally thank him. “I don’t even know your name.” Or anything else about him.
“Stony.”
“Stony?”
“That’s me,” he says quietly.
“Is that your real name?” I ask.
“Real enough.”
“Is it a nickname?”
“Yep.”
He isn’t forthcoming, so I leave it at that. Our eyes meet and I take in his features at close range; his dark brown hair trimmed with military-like precision, brown eyes, a sculpted chin, defined cheek bones, and olive skin. He’s clean shaven and the look works for him, giving him a clean cut appearance. All of these things combine to make a rather striking face. Now that he isn’t looking at me as if he wants to throw me off his property, his handsome good looks are accentuated. He’s ruggedly masculine in all the right ways.
There’s a permanent line between his eyebrows, etched into his skin, and I wonder what has happened to him in his life that has made him so closed off. The words LEAVE ME ALONE may as well be printed on his forehead. The name Stony suits him. And since I evidently have the go away vibe—as my friends and family have so kindly informed me—maybe I just found my match.
Huh. What a thought. Obviously, I’m still not thinking clearly. “Thank you for helping me, Stony.”
“Feeling better?” He takes a bite of bacon, his gaze unwavering.
While Stony has rock walls up around himself that are as strong as his name suggests, I see something in his eyes. A light, a softness, a glimpse of humanity. I’m not exactly sure what I see, but there’s life inside of this man—but he’s trying to suppress it, hide it, lock it up and throw away the key. I wonder why. He’s rough around the edges, yet vulnerable. An odd combination.
“Yes, much better. After I passed out, I don’t remember much except drinking lots of water.” I remember the feel of his gentle arms around me as he helped me to drink. I remember the cool washcloth being placed on my forehead. I remember the feel of his hands rubbing cream on my tender arms. And I remember that I felt safe.
All of this makes me realize I love the incongruity of a muscular, yet tender touch.
Perhaps there’s hope for me yet. Again, I’m learning what I do and do not like.
However, I’m sitting across from a stranger. I’ve been in this man’s arms. He picked me up and carried me into his motorhome. I wish I could remember how that felt. I want to know if I liked it or not. I imagine I liked it, at least I hope I did.
Whoa. I need to redirect my thoughts. Where is my off-button when I need it the most? Even so, it’s nice to experience normal emotions, to feel the slight tingle of attraction toward the opposite sex. At least I think that’s what I’m feeling.
Maybe it’s just the after effects from heat exhaustion. It’s sad that I don’t know the difference.
Besides being a good looking man, he’s solid and well-muscled. His personality, however, leaves a lot to be desired. I guess he’s the strong and silent type. I’d label him an alpha male, but the vulnerability in his eyes stops me from making that assumption.
“Cooled you down quickly,” he says.
He’s the silent type all right. He can’t even be bothered by complete sentences.
Then he adds, “Drank lots of water and acted coherent. No danger signs. Figured you’d be all right.”
Message received in spite of his lack of verbiage. I note that he didn’t call an ambulance. He took care of me himself. I think I’m flattered, but I’m not really sure if I should be. Why didn’t he call for help and wash his hands of me?
The rain continues to hammer the top of the motorhome and I’m distracted. “Wow. It’s really coming down out there.”
“Started just after you arrived. Hasn’t let up since. Flooding’s bad again. Didn’t take much to cause already high waters to flood the roadways. Surrounding towns were hit much earlier than expected. Didn’t want to chance going out and getting stuck, not with you in a bad way.”
Although he didn’t exactly say it word for word, I’m pretty sure that was his of way of explaining why he didn’t seek help or call an ambulance.
“Had things been different . . . would’ve gotten you the help you needed. Make no mistake.” His eyes are a little intense as he looks at me pointedly.
Got it. Loud and clear.
His voice is deep and rich. He speaks as though he’s preserving it, like a singer before a performance. The soft tone sends a chill down my spine. His calm manner makes me feel secure.
My thoughts wander to Finn. I find myself hoping he got blasted by rain on his way home yesterday. I really do. I don’t usually wish ill will upon others, but Finn deserves it. You know what they say about karma.
As silence descends upon us, I say, “Thank you for everything, Stony. If you can give me a ride into town, I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Can’t.”
My hackles rise. Did he save me just to lock me away and keep me hidden in his motorhome? He’s got to be a
little crazy to live out here alone.
Then he clarifies, “Roads are closed. Flooding everywhere.”
Seriously, I need to control my imagination. It’s going to get me into trouble. No more Criminal Minds. I glance at the clock and my heart sinks. It’s already ten a.m. My interview was one hour ago. There go all my plans for the summer. Once again, I have more pressing issues to deal with, like what do I do now?
“So . . . is there someplace I can go?”
“Stay right here.”
“You . . . don’t mind?”
“No choice.” He finishes off his breakfast and sits back in his chair, observing me thoughtfully.
“I’m sorry. I really appreciate you taking me in like this.”
He shrugs and for the next thirty seconds, our eyes meet and hold as we study each other. I can’t read him and I wonder what he’s thinking. I feel as though he can read my mind and knows I feel attracted to him. My feelings must be written all over my face. But how can he possibly know that when I don’t even know it yet? I’m not really sure what I’m feeling, I only know that it’s strong and immediate—and something I’ve never really felt before. I break our eye contact, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Those eyes feel as though they are looking right into my soul.
“You gonna eat?” he asks.
I look down at my untouched plate. I have so much going through my mind, I neglected to eat. “Yes, of course. Thank you for breakfast. Since you cooked, I’ll do the dishes.”
“No. You rest. Get your strength back.”
I appreciate his kindness. Maybe he’s not the Beast after all. It’s at that moment that something stirs within my chest. I don’t recognize the feeling. I stare at him again and I’m hard pressed to look away. This man evokes emotion in me, an emotion that leaves me feeling . . . I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I just feel weird and fuzzy and warm. The sensation is not unpleasant.
I definitely had too much sun yesterday.
I should feel wary of him, but his thoughtfulness throws me off guard. Again I say, “Thank you, Stony.”
“You got a name?”
