Gone Wild

by McCormick, Ever

  I didn't finish what I was saying. I slumped. I sighed. I tried to put into words what I felt and thought. I felt his large hands on my shoulders, his strong fingers digging into my neck and shoulder muscles, working out all the stress I'd been storing there. I groaned without meaning to. "Feels good, huh?" he said with a satisfied laugh.

  "Between the drink, the dinner, and now this, I think that Roadsie might have killed me on that mountain and I am dead and in heaven."

  He moved to my side, and the sight of him standing there over me, tall and dark—my own personal security team of one—made me swoon. My god, he was hot. He bent down, positioned his strong arms behind my neck and under my knees, and then he picked me up and carried me into the bedroom.

  I was nervous. Was this really what I wanted? Was I ready? When had I last shaved my legs? I had so many conflicting feelings and they were too hard to sort out at the moment.

  He placed me on the bed, sat on the edge, and looked down at me. "Turn over," he said. Still not knowing what I wanted, I couldn't resist his directions. I turned over and shut my eyes, giving him complete control. He didn't move for a few moments, and I wondered what he was doing.

  Then he slowly began kneading my muscles again. Occasionally, he would come to a point in my back that would sting, where I could feel the muscles twitch and jump. He would dig in there for awhile, eradicating all the pain until that section of my body relaxed. My breathing became slower and louder as he continued. I drifted off to sleep, but not before realizing, just as I was losing consciousness, that I had meant to do something for him. I'd meant to massage all of his proverbial sore spots away after hearing his admission. How nice it would be to have someone cater to all your sore spots and help you return to normal.

  *

  When I woke, the morning sun was pouring through the windows like water into a sinking ship. I looked to my right. Adam lay flat on his back staring up the ceiling. His hands were folded on his stomach. He was fully dressed although in different clothes than he had been wearing last night.

  "Did you sleep?" I asked him.

  He turned his face to me and smiled. "Yes, but I never sleep much. After you fell asleep, I passed out shortly after and awoke at sunrise."

  "Well, I'm glad you slept. Sorry I wasn't much company last night. The things you told me—" I shook my head in disbelief. "I still don't know what to say."

  "I'm sorry about that."

  "Sorry? What for?"

  "I didn't mean to tell you all of that. I was only trying to take your mind off your own problems, but I, well, I don't know what happened. I couldn't stop telling you. As if I wanted you to know."

  "I'm glad you told me."

  "It means a lot that you listened, but I hate laying all that on anyone."

  "No, don't apologize," I begged. "I wanted so badly to say some comforting words last night, but I couldn’t think of any."

  "It's okay," he assured me. "Sometimes there are no words. That's why you can’t find them. I’ve searched for the explanations, the redemption. Some things in life are unbearable, even though we'd give our attention to just about anything to not have to face them. They don't mean anything. They weren't even done to us on purpose so there’s no one to really blame. We have to endure them—but words can't do anything but distract us. The problems are all still there when the distractions go away."

  I nodded. I knew what he meant. It's how I felt about Michael although I'd never said it so succinctly. There was no piece of truth I could latch onto to make the pain go away completely, and knowing that made the pain worse. Running wasn’t an escape either. This pain was inside of me. Wherever I ran, there it was.

  "Listening to me, and giving me that hug—" He shook his head. "It helped. It was more perfect than you can possibly know that you said nothing. I haven't talked about the accident in years. It's on my mind every single day, but I don't talk about it." He reached out and pushed a piece of my hair behind my ear.

  I gazed at him openly. Was he going to kiss me? I sort of wanted him to kiss me. Ugh, but I had morning breath. There was always something.

  "I want to thank you," he said, "by taking you out tonight."

  My eyes widened. "You want to leave the mountain?"

  He nodded. "There is a great place about an hour northeast. I've gone up a few times, but I usually get my meals to go. I hate to sit in restaurants by myself. Eating at a table by myself in a restaurant always makes me feel like an animal in a zoo."

  I pictured Adam in the situation he described and I made a pitiful face.

  He said, "Yes! That's exactly how everyone looks at me."

  The least I could do was sit by Adam and be good company so he could have a nice meal. A thought crossed my mind and I frowned.

  "What is it?"

  I looked down at my t-shirt. A conspicuous golden stain reminded me of the pineapple drink he'd made me last night. "I'd like to get presentable if we're going out. I don't know if I have anything dressy enough for a nice restaurant."

  "We can pick up a dress on the way if you'd feel more comfortable. My treat."

  That sounded absolutely wonderful, but my mother's voice reminded me that it was wrong to accept expensive gifts from men.

  "I couldn't let you do that."

  "Ina, please. This is the first time I've asked a woman to go out to eat with me in three years. Please just say yes."

  "Yes, of course, yes." When he put it like that I couldn't say no. "But I'll need some prep time. I'll need to go to my cabin for a while."

  "You can have as much time as you need. I need to prep too."

  I wanted to shave my legs and take a long hot shower. I couldn't imagine what Adam would do to prep for our outing. I thought of the stranger on the mountain, of Roadsie. How would I be able to get ready at my cabin? The fear must have shown on my face because Adam touched my arm reassuringly. His other arm reached behind his back to grab something from the nightstand.

  "I want you to take this." He held a small handgun up in the air. It was the one he'd taught me how to use. My eyes refused to blink as he laid the weapon on the table next to me. "You're in charge," he said, his jaw set and his eyes serious and intense. "You have no reason to feel unsafe. This is your mountain."

  I looked at him in surprise. That last statement had caught me off guard. He nodded to assure me he hadn't misspoken.

  *

  Adam walked me to my cabin without saying a word. The sound of our breathing and our sneakers hitting the worn dirt path mingled with the nature noises. Even though we didn’t speak, the excitement between us was palpable. We kept sharing silly grins.

  As we came into the clearing in front of my cabin, I thought of that first day I had arrived here so full of anticipation and optimism about the summer. Now the cabin that held all of my belongings seemed so foreign. It felt odd to be approaching it, and I sensed a familiar habit begging to be remembered—I wanted to resist because it was uncomfortable, but I knew I had to push down all the hesitation and just do it. I had to walk into my cabin and reclaim my independence.

  "I'll pick you up at seven." Adam smiled at me and stared at me for a second longer than he needed to, long enough to make me smile in excited flattery. "I'll wait until you get inside," he added. "Lock the dead bolt."

  "Would you mind walking in with me, taking a look around before you go?"

  "I can do that."

  I loved his grin. I couldn't not smile back. His shadow blocked the sunlight from my back as I slid my key into the lock and entered the main living area. It was exactly as I remembered it—light and airy, relaxing and peaceful. I’d left books open, pages down on the counter. The place looked lived in, pleasantly cluttered. All the little details and personal things were mine, so the overall feeling I had was not fear as I thought, but instead a sense of coming home. I sighed and plopped in the big comfortable chair, laying my head back to look at the high wood beam ceilings. An afghan was hanging over the back of the chair and I pulled it over
me and cuddled in.

  Adam walked out of the bedroom with an easy look on his face. "All clear," he said. "Windows are locked. Closets are empty. Lock the door when I leave. I'll be back soon." He looked down at my bare legs that were sticking out from the bottom of my covers. "I can't wait."

  "I'm looking forward to it too," I told him. And then I said one of those things that you say without thinking and then regret and then dwell on for way too long afterward. I said, "Maybe we can figure out what's wrong with each other."

  “I don’t think anything is wrong with us,” he said.

  “No? Then why did we come here? Everyone else is fine out there.”

  “I think it’s because our eyes were opened and now we can’t forget what we’ve seen.” He waited a minute and then let himself out.

  I dead bolted the door behind him, thinking about his answer. I tinkered around in the kitchen, made myself some tea, and then took a long, hot shower, spending too much time under the hot water simply because I could.

  I dressed in a clean pair of cut-offs and a simple tank top, but did my hair and make-up as if I were going somewhere amazing. I slipped on the ballet flats I hadn't worn since the day I drove out here and waited impatiently on the couch.

  I'd laid the gun on the counter and it caught my eye as it gleamed in a ray of light coming from the window. The sight of it made my breath catch. In some ways I felt like just having it here was an invitation for something bad to happen.

  I stood, walked over to the counter, and stared down at the weapon. I ran my finger over the metal where the sun hit it, where it was warm like a living thing. It was strange how something so small could contain so much power. It was scary, too, what having to have it represented—that the world wasn't safe. I opened the drawer below the counter and stuffed the gun in between some dishrags and measuring tape. I shut the drawer tight.

  I didn't want to think about it.

  *

  At a few minutes after seven, I heard a noise I couldn't quite place at first because it had been so long, but then it registered. A vehicle was running nearby. I heard it shut off and I stared out the window in the direction I thought it to be in. A few minutes later, I saw something amazing walking into the clearing and my mouth dropped open. I rushed to the door, throwing it open because I wanted to get the visual without the barrier of glass in my way.

  Adam stepped onto the porch with a gorgeous grin on his clean-shaven beautiful face. He had dimples and a tiny red scar on his cheek. He seemed almost bashful.

  "Wow," I said.

  "I told you I had to get ready."

  "Yeah, but," I let my eyes roam down the front of him. He was wearing a stylish black suit with a white crisp fitted shirt. His hair was perfectly messy. "You took my breath away."

  "Mission accomplished. The feeling is mutual." I snort-laughed unattractively and looked down at my casual clothes. I felt ridiculous next to him.

  "We're stopping somewhere so I can get a dress, right?"

  "I did promise." He nodded as if to assure me that a promise from him was a solid thing I could rely on.

  "Yes, you did," I said, picking up a jacket and a purse and throwing a couple last minute things inside. I followed him out the door, unable to take my eyes from his transformed appearance.

  12

  Adam was a cautious driver. His eyes always seemed to be scanning the road and both sides of it. He used his signals consistently and didn't cut anybody off or make unsafe lane changes. I guess it all made sense given the experience he'd had with his mom and sister. He looked a little awkward behind the wheel as if he wasn't comfortable there, and that also made sense. I didn't realize I was staring at him across the wide bench seat of his pick-up until he turned to me and smiled.

  "What is it?" he asked. "You’re deep in thought."

  "Just taking it all in." I was embarrassed at having been caught staring. I turned my gaze to my own window and watched the never-ending tree-top carpet that stretched on into the horizon. I couldn't resist turning back once, and I found him still staring at me. "Eyes on the road," I said, and he followed my order with a huge grin. We rode in companionable silence for a while, the sound of tires covering road lulling me into a relaxed state. He hadn't turned the radio on and I wondered if he was trying to avoid hearing any special reports.

  He took an exit and I sat up taller trying to get an idea of the town we were entering. Fast food restaurants, shopping centers, and signs for a mall dotted the boulevard. It seemed like we were in a huge shopping mecca in the middle of nowhere.

  Some of the designer names on the shop fronts we were passing suggested the kind of clothes we'd find here would be way out my price range. As if reading my mind, Adam cleared his throat and spoke, "This whole night is on me—including the dress. Get shoes, jewelry, whatever you want."

  I stared at him in disbelief. "You better watch yourself making offers like that. Some girl is going to rake you through the coals."

  He chuckled. "Been there. I'm not worried about that with you. You've got a good soul."

  He pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall made up of elegant storefronts. The whole strip of stores seemed to be dedicated to high-end women's fashion and the ladies who crossed the parking lot and entered the buildings were the kind who graced magazine covers and gossip sites: coiffed hair, flawless makeup, tailored clothes, and extremely elevated footwear.

  My gaze swept over the dusty, dull hood of Adam's truck on its way to the shiny Lexuses and Mercedes. I had the sudden realization that I was a pick-up truck among all the luxury cars in this shopping complex, maybe in the world. I looked over at Adam.

  "I don't think I can shop here," I said.

  He shut off the vehicle and looked at me confused. "Why?"

  How could I tell him that I usually bought my clothes at JC Penney and Old Navy? "Look at me," I said without too much explanation, a simple wave of my hand over my body. I hoped he understood.

  He took the opportunity—and I couldn't argue because the truck was in park and I had told him to look at me. He scanned me from bottom to top and top to bottom so slowly that I could practically hear the Jeopardy music playing in my head. "I'd be happy to take you to the restaurant dressed as you are."

  I snorted and folded my hands in my lap. I stared down at them.

  He ducked down so he could catch my eye. "They're just clothes," he said, "the uniforms we must wear in order to fine dine. The clothes are part of the whole dining experience I’m told. Dressing well makes it an escapade, not just a meal. Usually, I get my food to go and eat it in the truck, but I've always wanted to eat in, see if there is any truth to the ambiance making the meal."

  I don't know if he understood my hesitation completely, but he was distracting me from my inferiority complex. Feeling like this trip was more about him having a companion to go with to his favorite restaurant made me feel less weird about it.

  "They're just clothes," he said, "and the people wearing them are just people."

  We watched some of those people on the sidewalks in front of us.

  "You're coming in with me, right?"

  "Of course."

  "Okay." If a hot guy in a trendy suit came with me, I wouldn’t feel like I didn't fit in so much.

  "Then let's go." He opened his door and got out. I went to open my door, but I noticed he kept his eye on me and was walking around to my side of the truck so I waited. He opened my door and held out his hand, helping me jump down from the seat.

  "No heels," I said. "I don't even want to think about jumping down from that truck in heels."

  He laughed. "Fair enough."

  We picked which store to enter based on the fact that I liked the dresses in the window. I'd never heard of the name hand painted on the driftwood sign out front. The saleswoman inside was kind and didn't bat an eyelash at my current attire. She kept eye contact with me, and I started to think she hadn't even noticed what I was wearing—or else she was consciously avoiding it. Adam looked a
t all of the options with me, but never told me if he had any preference, just deferred to me.

  I looked for a price tag on one dress that I liked and he leaned over and whispered. "These kinds of places never use price tags. I took you here on purpose. I didn't want you choosing a dress because it was on sale or something." He shot me a knowing look.

  I looked at him in disbelief. How did he know me so well? With a humph, I took the dress into the fitting room, slipped it on, and turned to the mirror. I stopped breathing. I never believed that clothes made the woman. I always thought an attractive person was good-looking whether they wore a potato sack or an expensive dress, but my reflection proved me wrong.

  The girl—no, the woman—in the mirror was not me. She was the slick, professional executive I’d imagined I’d be one day. She was one of those women I watched walk through the parking lot. I turned to the side to check out my profile. My curves looked curvier, my waist, thinner. "This is the one," I said without thinking, and I then realized that Adam and the saleswoman were right outside and could hear me.

  "Already?" the woman exclaimed.

  "Can we see?" Adam asked.

  I smoothed the dress down my front and walked out of the dressing room. Adam smiled as his eyes traced me from head to toe. I reveled in his expression. I loved how I looked in the dress, but he was struck speechless by it, his mouth open slightly for a moment before he shook his head, licked his lips, and smiled as a deep blush came over his cheeks.

  The saleswoman brought her hands up to cover her mouth. "I can't argue with you," she said. "It's as if that dress were made for you. It brings out your eyes and it doesn't need any altering at all!"

  Adam directed the woman to put it on his card and then waved me over to an area of the store that held accessories. After a little arguing, he agreed that I didn't have to buy shoes or jewelry if I didn't want to, but that he was perfectly willing to pay for it if it would help me feel more at ease. Before leaving, he stopped at the register to collect his card and a shopping bag.