Ten
Henry
Growing up in Wyoming, before my dad’s drinking got away from him, we spent a great deal of time outdoors. He used to say to me, “Stay close to nature, and nature will stay close to you,” before promptly dropping me off somewhere in the woods and challenging me to find my way back on my own. His intentions were good, even if the execution was lacking in fatherly warmth.
He meant that spending time in nature kept your instincts on. We get so clouded by our reliance on our devices and convenience now, that as a species we’ve lost some of our wilder intuition. I suppose since I continue to spend as much time as I can in nature, that’s why I’m able to still hear some of mine.
Which is also why, when I wake up a little after midnight with my hackles raised, I know something is wrong. We’ve had a slew of paps break into the ranch, crazed fans who are mostly harmless, and three different stalkers who were most definitely not. And since most of the actors have their own personal security when they’re staying here on location, the real risk is that any one of these idiots could end up hurting themselves and try to hold Logan Range liable. They’re all from cities, of course, and don’t take the perils of nature seriously. One girl, a determined nineteen-year-old from San Diego, said that she knew that if she “could just meet Duke Wade, he’d see how great we could be together.” This particular girl hiked for two days during winter. We found her nearly frozen only about two miles away from the main ranch, just over a ridge. She later admitted that she’d walked along that ridge for hours before collapsing. If she had just gone up top, she’d have seen our valley. That’s Idaho country for you, though. The steepest and most dramatic ridge lines that break even the most seasoned hikers and hunters. I think she ended up losing a toe or two.…
Belle is already on point at the door. She’s a Queensland Heeler, so not exactly a pointing breed, but her body language is obvious. I throw my boots on over my sweats and a jacket, and grab my pistol. September might still be warm during the days, but the temperatures usually make a dramatic drop at night.
It’s just shy of a full moon, and I know the surrounding landscape like the back of my hand, so I don’t need a flashlight. I follow Belle through the meadow a ways and down toward the bottom of the same ridge that the lovesick teenager got stuck behind.…
I think I see movement in the tree line, but can’t be too certain. I make a sound to get Belle over to my side and we make our way through some of the outlying brush. I don’t want whatever it is to see me coming and hide—if it’s another one of these crazy fuckers we will absolutely press charges.
We make our way around and catch up enough that I can make the shape out of the thing.…
It’s moving on two legs—I think? But, there’s a huge hump where it’s back should be and I can’t make out the legs. It’s obviously a human of some kind. It’s huddled around something, taking short steps here and there. What the fuck? What the hell is it? A wendigo?
Christ, Henry. You’re a thirty-one-year-old man, don’t go getting yourself worked up thinking it’s some made-up creature.
The moon is shining in the clearing to our left, but through the trees it’s too hard to discern the thing. I take the pistol out of my jacket pocket and lay it down on the ground, deciding that there’s only one way to find out. I’ve got thoughts of killers and stalkers in ghillie suits running through my mind, and I refuse to make myself liable to some sue-happy asshole.
Before I can change my mind, I launch out after it, Belle at my heels. She passes me as the thing turns and tries to lunge away. Belle knocks it halfway down and I hurl my body to tackle it the rest of the way, hearing the air whoosh out and a strangled noise escape. Definitely human.
I wrap my arms around it as its limbs flail. My hand closes around something and it slightly gives under my touch—squishy?
“What”—a strangled gasp—“the”—more of the noise—“ fuck?!! ” it says. “That’s my BOOB!” the voice manages to push out while trying to swallow back air.
I run my hands down and sure as shit, I feel how the body tapers in at the middle, and back up and out where boobs would, in fact, be …
Fuck. Recognition surfaces …
“Tait?!!”
Tait
Anyone who’s had the wind knocked out of them knows those noises that you make. The angry noises coming out of me sound… hideous. They’re weird, strangled moans—way more akin to a terrible bout of diarrhea than sexual. He’s got his hands on either side of my waist, his legs wrapped and locked around mine, with my ass smashed against his lap. Being wrapped up in his big limbs has me flustered and pissed off enough to hiss and writhe, but my backpack separates my back from his chest and is making it even harder for me to breathe.
“Yes—you”— gasp —“dick!”
He comes to and lifts his hands and feet straight into the air like a fainted goat. I, in turn, struggle like a turtle caught on its shell and try to right myself. I’m seeing spots, and as I roll back and forth against him, my ass comes into contact, repeatedly, with him there, and he lets out a little grunt that flusters me even more. After what feels like the longest ten seconds of my life, he grabs under my armpits from behind, and rights us both to standing in one swift motion.
I whip around, ready to tear him to shreds, but my vision swims. I groan, and sit down.
“What are you doing out here?” he says accusingly.
I hold up a finger and he seems to remember that he tackled me like a defensive lineman .
“Shit, I’m sorry. Are you hurt?”
The finger remains up and I work to get my breath steady again.
He’s shifting from foot to foot with his hands on his hips. The bastard should be nervous—as soon as I catch my breath it’s over for him.
“What on earth are you wearing?” he asks.
The nerve of this guy.
“You better hope you didn’t break any of my equipment!” I snarl as I take off my parka and open up my backpack with my camera equipment.
“No.” I groan when I remember that I had my actual camera in my hands right before I was hit by the truck that is Henry. I see it on the ground, very obviously broken.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” His tone is etched with irritation. He stalks back the direction he came, picking up something from the ground and tucking it away. He whips back around to me, all hints of apology lost. “What the fuck are you doing out here at night, unarmed and wearing this—this dress-coat thing?!”
“This dress-coat thing is my old swimming parka! It’s warm and comfortable. I wasn’t headed out in the night worried about fashion, you knob! And, armed? Why the fuck would I need to be armed?”
“It’s… brown… and shiny.” He’s fixated on my coat, the corners of his lips pulled down in disgust.
“Our mascot was the banana slug! Also, YOU brOKE MY CAMERA!”
“And for that I am sorry, but what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that it’s a full moon, and I had light. LeighAnn told me about a herd of wild horses, and I don’t know—I figured I could get some interesting pictures one way or another. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep, anyway.”
He nods, jaw clenched and nose flaring before he looks down. Belle licks my hand and paws my leg for attention, before I comply.
“For the record, the horses are nowhere near here, but I will replace your camera, and anything else that was broken. I’m sorry again. And for the—” He gestures to my chest, and then looks down again, rightfully embarrassed. Shifts on his feet anxiously.
I study the man. He seems contrite enough, maybe a bit panicked. So while I don’t understand why he took it upon himself to act as a one-man army, my guess is that there have been reasons for it in the past.
“It’s alright, most action I’ve had in a while.” I cringe, not sure what possessed me to say that.
A laugh escapes him in a rush before he replies, “Me too, actually.” He grins.
Yeah right. That smile is a complete panty melter. The moon is shining just enough that I can fully see his face clearly, now. The smile lines around his eyes deepen, and the ones around his mouth dimple, almost meeting each other. His hair is mussed and sticking up in a corner, like he just woke up. We both deflate at the same time, and laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of what just happened.
“Why are you up?” I ask, tension broken.
He laughs at that, too. “Oh, you know. Some caveman instinct told me there was danger nearby. Clearly I’m out of touch.” He shuffles his hair away from his face and scratches the back of his neck. The movement causes an impressive bicep to bunch, and my body responds with traitorous warmth. Why, all of a sudden now my sexual appetite decides to make herself known on my hierarchy of needs, is beyond me.
“Well, I guess we may as well head back now. Not going to get much material…” I pick up the remnants of my camera. Henry grabs my coat and backpack.
“I’ll take tomorrow off and we can head into town to look for a replacement. Let me know what else?”
“Uh, this is a five thousand dollar camera just FYI, and it’s insured for these kinds of reasons. Well, maybe not exactly this. But really, it’s okay.”
“It’s fine. It’s my fault. I’ll cover it.”
I already know I’m not going to let him buy me a new camera, but, rather than argue it out tonight, give a noncommittal nod.
We start to make our way back, my sides and back aching. I take a weird step and hiss.
“Fuck, you’re hurt, aren’t you?” He reaches for me before jerking his hands back, obviously unsure whether or not he should touch me again, eyes rounding in concern.
“No, no. Just took a weird step. I’ll be fine, seriously. It was a misunderstanding.”
“No, let me at least take a look when we get back to the cabins. I’ll just make sure nothing is broken or anything,” he says.
At this point, I’m so keyed up and sleep deprived, and can’t start my work tomorrow anyway. I’m also starving, so I cave.
“Okay, but on the condition that you let me raid your food, and your booze,” I reply. I decided to go out and seek work when I woke up in the middle of the night and saw that my cabin was devoid of any kind of sustenance.
“Works for me.” He smirks and walks closer to me the rest of the way back, keeping his hand out as if to brace me. I shiver and realize that I’m in the pajamas that I changed into before I gave up and headed out for the night—braless, and in a too-small fitted T-shirt that says “Taco Belle” on it, with my favorite hole-ridden black sweats. Last Halloween Ava and Casey dressed up as Beauty and the Beast, with Jack in a Lumière costume. I bought this so I could join in their family theme (as Ava demanded) but added my own twist. I carried around a twelve pack box of tacos all night for effect.
In the dark the getup is fine, but I know once we get inside my nipples will be on full display. I try to grab my coat from Henry as we step on his porch, but he doesn’t let it go.
“I don’t think this should be allowed in my house, sorry.” His nose scrunches when he spares my coat a horrified look.
“I’m cold.”
“Then go inside, where it’s warmer,” he offers. He looks down as I fold my arms across my chest and understanding lights his face. “Oh.” And then he smiles again, and opens the door. He tosses my coat on the nearby rocking chair, solidifying his stance.
I roll my eyes and head in.