Chapter Thirteen #2
“And cowboys may be the worst boyfriends but we make the best husbands.” I open my mouth to protest, but he doesn’t let me get a word in as he continues, “So I won’t let anyone burn my barn down with you in it.
And if someone even thinks about it, I’ll burn him down first. That clear enough for you? ”
At last, I glance up at him.
He’s looking straight ahead, his features blank but sharp.
The hat still perches on his head, casting a shadow over his eyes.
But just like in the car, every few steps, sun pours down on him like honey, lighting those dark places up.
Setting them on fire, making his dark eyes glitter and his bronzed skin sparkle.
He has to be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
I just didn’t know beauty could be dangerous too. Dangerous and lethal and lifesaving.
I open my mouth to say something, I’m not really sure what.
Hopefully not about how his crime changed my life in so many ways; I’m not about to tell my forced fake-husband that I thought of him as my hero for the longest time when he’s nothing more than a criminal.
But it doesn’t matter now because before I can utter another word, we come to a halt.
I look away from him to find that we’ve come upon a clearing of some sort.
A large gap surrounded by trees where the earth looks covered in heaps and mounds of dried leaves.
Up ahead, through the thick trunks of trees, I see a lake.
Or more like a large body of water because it’s too small to be called that.
The water is shimmering under the sunlight and looks so pretty that it takes my breath away.
Behind me I feel a movement, and before I know it, he’s climbed off the horse, and I have to grab onto its neck to keep myself from falling.
It’s more from the sudden turn of events than losing my balance, but still.
Then, standing beside me, he lifts his arms, his palms open as if ready to receive me.
And help me down.
It’s a testament to who he is, criminal enough to kidnap me, and yet careful enough that he doesn’t want me to fall. And it’s a testament to what I feel for him, too threatened to feel safe around him, and yet I trust him enough that I accept his help without a word.
However, as soon as he brings me down, my knees tremble and give out, and I have to hold on to him for balance. I fist his T-shirt and crane my neck up to look at him. “W-Why are we stopping?”
His fingers dig into my waist as he replies, “Because we need to make camp.”
“Camp?”
“For the night.”
I blink and grab his T-shirt harder. “We’re… we’re staying here?”
“Yes.”
“But I…” I look around as if I’ll find something other than the woods surrounding us. “Can’t we just keep going?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
His chest moves with a breath as he says, “Because Rocky needs his rest.”
“But I—”
“And you do too.”
I pull at his T-shirt, trying to get through to him. “But I’ve never gone camping before.”
Another breath while his features stay as cool as ever. “Well, you better get used to it because Black Rock’s still a few days away.”
“Wait, what?”
“And we’ll be ‘going camping’ every night until then.”
“But…” I go up on my tiptoes. “It can’t be that far away. It can’t—”
“It’s not,” he assures me. “But we’re taking the scenic route.”
“What?” I shriek.
He jerks his chin at something behind me and deadpans, “You can wash up in the lake when you’re ready and there’s a bush behind you when you wanna go pee.”
“I’m not peeing in the bushes!” I say, shrieking again. “I’m not… This is a joke, right? It has to be. What century is this? Why did we have to take the scenic route or—”
He shifts on his feet, shifting me with him as he says, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine, “There are no asshole cops here that you can turn to for help. Nothing but bears and wolves for miles. Wild animals that’ll tear into you and leave you for dead the moment they catch your scent.
So we’re takin’ the scenic route because your only safe bet in these woods is sticking close to me.
And if you’re as smart as you think you are, this time, you’ll stay exactly where I put you.
No ropes. No drugs. But most importantly, no lies.
” Then, straightening up, “Welcome to your first adventure.”
Fire burns bright and hot between us.
Orange embers flicker in the air, lighting up the night, casting burning shadows on his face. On his entire body, making it glow.
He looks to be in deep thought, his eyes staring into the flames. I can see them dancing in his eyes. If I tried, I could almost convince myself that he himself is made of fire. With lava flowing in his veins and flames flickering just beneath the surface.
We’re having dinner right now that he cooked while I watched him from the log that I’m perched on.
I also watched him take Rocky’s saddle off and unload the saddlebags before tying Rocky to the tree behind him.
He combed Rocky’s mane, then massaged his back while whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
All I heard was the low tones of his rough voice, hypnotizing enough that I couldn’t take my eyes away.
He gave Rocky his feed and put out a bowl of water for him before moving on to our dinner.
But first, he gave me a pill.
He said it was for my pain, and I believed him.
Because he’s right: There’s nowhere for me to run, so he didn’t need to drug me.
Besides, if he wanted to, he could’ve found a different way.
Plus, he said he wouldn’t lie to me. And he wasn’t.
Hours later, I’m still awake and my pain has retreated into the background.
Even though neither of us has eaten all that much, I can’t help but think this is the very first meal we’ve shared despite being together for three days now. Before this, I’d either miss meals because I was sleeping, or he’d leave a plate for me on the nightstand with him nowhere in sight.
I don’t know why it feels so monumental, but it does: our first meal together.
“I’ve imagined this before,” I blurt out. Then quickly add, “Foolishly.”
He’s on the opposite side of me, sitting on a log of his own with his thighs sprawled and his elbows resting on them, his hands holding the paper plate with his untouched dinner.
At my words, he lifts his eyes and focuses on me.
“Imagined what?” Then, he adds much like me, although in a drawl, “Foolishly.”
I shift on my seat, my own dinner plate in the lap of my dress. “This. Having dinner. With you.”
If he finds this surprising, my revelation, he doesn’t show it. His features remain unmoved and glowing as he repeats, “With me.”
I exhale sharply. “With Bo.”
Something flashes through his face, tightening up his features for a second.
“I mean, of course, stupidly,” I add before he can say anything.
“Yeah, you said that.”
“There were times when,” I find myself divulging, “I’d sit down with my food and read your letter.”
My confession is followed by a light grunt from Rocky and the fire crackling. Which, to be honest, is fine. I don’t want him to say anything. Not that there’s anything to say other than how stupid I’ve been, but still.
“I’d order takeout, light candles, and read your letters out loud. I guess I wanted to pretend we were having a conversation over dinner.” I shake my head. “And for the third time, I know how crazy it sounds and—”
“It does sound crazy,” he cuts me off.
My heart drops.
His jaw clenches before he adds, “Because he’d be too high to hold his head up at the table, let alone make dinner conversation with you.”
God, what an asshole.
“Forget it.” I stab a potato with the plastic fork. “I don’t even know why I told you that.”
“Me neither,” he says. “Thought we weren’t talkin’ about letters.”
That gets my back up, and I stab the potato-laden fork at him. “Well, you don’t get to talk about them. I can do whatever I want.”
He studies me a beat, then he straightens up and sets his plate aside. “That so?”
“Yes, actually it is so.” I lift my chin. “In case you forgot, I’m the injured party between the two of us.”
“Injured party.”
“Yes, I am. I’m the victim here. The forced; the silenced; the kidnapped. I’m allowed a few concessions.”
“Fine.”
I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. “What?”
He throws out a short nod. “You’re allowed a few concessions.”
Despite myself, I smile a little. “Does that mean I can call you an asshole whenever I want?”
His gaze drops to my mouth for a second before he drawls, “Don’t you do that already?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Criminal cowboy.”
“Used that one before too.”
“I—”
“If that’s the extent of your imagination, college girl, we’re in a lot of trouble.”
In his low and drawling voice, it sounds exactly like I wanted it to, “college girl,” and yet nothing like I imagined it would.
I blink myself awake and ask, “Why?”
“Might get old after a while,” he tells me, his eyes boring into mine. “Since we’re gonna be spending the rest of our lives together.”
“We’re not.”
The determined lines on his face make me shiver, and I glance down at the food. “You know I’m not a vegetarian, right?”
“I’m aware.”
I look up to find his eyes pinned on me. “So then why do you always make sure I have no meat in my food?”
For the record, I don’t care. I’ll eat whatever is put in front of me and be grateful that I wasn’t the one who made it.
Growing up, I had to do all the cooking myself because my mother was either too busy with making my father happy or too beaten up to do anything else but lie down. So I’m not picky.
“Just coverin’ my bases on the off chance you were.” Then, “You didn’t want me feedin’ you somethin’ against your will, did you? Like I did with the tranq.”
I was in the process of putting a deliciously cooked potato in my mouth when I stopped. I put down the fork and asked, “Is this an apology then? For drugging me? You know, how you sometimes apologize in a weird way. Like when you read my favorite book.”