Lila
Ineeded to run. Every muscle fiber in my body twitched with tension. It took all my self-control not to grab Owen by his handsome face and stick my tongue down his throat.
God, that man.
He was so controlled, so careful. He did everything with precision and care and never raised his voice.
He didn’t have to. He emanated power and brilliance.
But he had one weakness. Me.
And it thrilled me.
I was drunk on the power. Knowing that his superhuman self-control wavered when he got too close.
If I were a different type of woman, I could abuse that power and use it for my own orgasmic gain.
But I had a plan. And as much as I ached for him, I had to stick to it.
I had promised myself that I wouldn’t get sidelined by dick. Even good dick. And Owen was the best dick. Not that I’d tell him that. His ego didn’t need the stroking.
So far, after our incredible weekend, I’d kept my distance. But the memories just refused to fade. Hell, I still had beard burn on my inner thighs.
But we kept growing closer, and it was getting increasingly harder to stand my ground. With each minute I spent with him, I cared about him more and more.
After so many years of letting life steamroll me, I’d set a boundary. Not just with him, but with myself. NYU was only a few months away, so I didn’t have to fight this too much longer.
Saturdays at Hebert Timber were quiet. Typically, Owen and I were the only ones in the building. He’d be in eventually, but I’d come early to get a run in first, hoping it would help me get my head on straight.
After our weekend in Boston, I needed to run farther and faster than usual to shake off the need to be near him. So I headed out, set on physically exhausting myself before facing him.
The Hebert Timber campus was a great spot to run. The paved roads were fairly empty, and the trails heading up through the woods were beautifully maintained. I could go down the airstrip, through the wooded paths, and come out by the lake.
I could get a little fresh air and work up a sweat, and in turn, keep my pants on around Owen.
Running used to be a punishment. I’d push myself to go farther and faster, logging every mile on my calorie app. I’d run a few half marathons, which I despised, and had used early training runs as an excuse to skip out on fun more times than I could count.
But it wasn’t until recently that I realized that moving my body could do more than burn calories. And that I could pick the pace that worked best for my mood and goals for the day. In Lovewell, surrounded by breathtaking scenery and serene quiet, running was a great way to get out of my own head.
These days, I rarely ran more than a few miles. I only ran when I wanted to, and I stuck to a pace that my pageant self would have considered a warm-up.
When I came to the end of the paved path, I turned and headed down toward the lake.
The trees on either side of the path were just starting to bud.
In no time, they’d be in full bloom. My running playlist kept me going, even as I got distracted by my surroundings.
My heart lurched and I almost tripped over my feet when movement ahead of me caught my eye.
I pulled up short and froze as I took in the massive moose standing in the middle of the path about ten yards away, blocking my access to the lake.
I stumbled backward, panic rising up inside me. A lone bull moose in the woods was fucking dangerous, and this one was as big as a truck. Sure, moose weren’t uncommon, but I’d never been this close to one, and certainly never alone in the damn woods.
I gasped for breath even as I willed my heart to calm and my legs to function so I could head back up the path, hopefully without the beast noticing me.
I’d taken a single step back when he bellowed. A loud, moaning roar.
He turned enough to make the thick scar cutting across his back and hindquarters visible. Shit, it was Clive. The notorious bull who liked to wander around town wreaking havoc on its citizens.
Most moose were afraid of people and didn’t come too close to town, but not Clive.
He didn’t give a shit. I’d heard stories that included him disrupting fireworks shows, crashing weddings, and stealing belongings.
They were all so ridiculous it was hard to tell which were truths and which had been made up.
What I did know was that wild animals that were too comfortable around people were more dangerous.
Fuck. This moose could straight-up murder me just for crossing his path.
Okay, new plan.
Slowly back away, cut through the woods if necessary, and avoid detection.
I took a step back, then another, up the hill, sticking close to the tree line in hopes that he wouldn’t spot me.
I’d only gone a handful of feet when he grunted and swished his tail. When he turned his enormous head and pinned me with one big moosey eye, my body locked up.
Aw, fuck.
Should I run?
No. I knew better than that. I may have been gone for years, but I was a born-and-bred Mainer. Moose may look slow and lazy, but they could run thirty miles per hour and take out a truck.
This close, I couldn’t scramble up a tree fast enough to avoid him if he decided to charge, even if my upper body strength wasn’t shit. And out here, there weren’t any places to hide.
He made a loud, scary noise, causing me to jump and slap a hand to my chest. Fuck me. I’d rather run up a mountain in hell than tangle with Clive. He had no fear and could gore my ass with minimal effort. The grunt he let out sent snot flying from his massive nostrils, but he didn’t come closer.
He moaned again, his focus still fixed on me, as if he was telling me to get the fuck out of his yard.
I was more than happy to oblige, so I backed away slowly again, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t come closer.
When I made it to the bend in the path, I turned and ran like hell toward the parking lot.
I headed up toward the parking lot, avoiding the airstrip and looping around the machine shop and where the fellers, cranes, and loaders were all parked neatly in rows.
I’d become familiar with each of them and their uses over the last few weeks.
It was a shame. This place had once been bustling, with employees everywhere.
My heart ached like it always did when I thought about how much the Heberts had lost.
I banked around the building, avoiding the row of dumpsters. Once I was safely behind it, I stopped to catch my breath and tighten my ponytail. Running like hell from a wild beast took a lot out of a girl.
With my hands planted on my knees, I heaved in one deep breath after another.
Finally, as my heart rate was returning to normal, I straightened.
As I readied to head inside to splash water on my face and chug a bottle of water, I caught sight of a single boot tipped on its side in the middle of the parking lot.
Frowning, I headed for it. It was clear, as I got closer, that it was a man’s hiking boot.
And its mate was nowhere to be seen. Weird.
I stopped in front of it and scanned the parking lot, a chill going down my spine.
There were a few cars parked near mine, which was typical for a Thursday afternoon, but something was off.
Hackles rising, I looked over my shoulder, then slowly toward the main building. I hadn’t made it far before my curiosity got the better of me. So with another deep breath, because my heart had taken off at a gallop again, I jogged back around to the shop.
And there, lying next to the row of black dumpsters I’d just hustled past, was—I stopped short. Holy fuck. There, on the ground, was a man. His face was bloody, and he wasn’t moving.
Fuck. Fuck.
I fumbled to get my phone from my waist pack, my fingers shaking as I unlocked it.
Walking closer, I assessed him. It was impossible to tell if he was dead or alive. I could barely make out his facial features beneath all the blood, and his body was crumpled.
Right in plain sight.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“I’m at the Hebert Timber headquarters,” I said, gasping for breath. “There’s a man on the ground. He’s bleeding.”
My brain went offline. Dammit. What was the address of this place? “527 Cumberland Road,” I rushed out when it finally came to me. “Down the road past the main building, next to the machine shop.”
“Okay, ma’am. Help is on the way. Can you tell whether he’s breathing?”
I crept closer and squinted, looking for the rise and fall of his chest. I wished Willa was here. She’d know what to do.
His head was bleeding. That was for sure.
As I got closer, I scanned his body, looking for weapons.
When I didn’t see signs of anything near him, I knelt beside him.
I trembled as I put the phone on speaker, set it on the concrete, and stripped off my hoodie.
I used the shirt to apply pressure to his head wound, then snaked my fingers to the side of his neck to check for a pulse.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I was feeling for, but after a moment, I detected a slight rise and fall of his chest.
He was alive.
Fuck. Now I just had to keep him that way until the ambulance got here.
Ignoring the blood on my hands, I tried again to locate his pulse. The flutter in his neck was faint, but it was there.
My stomach revolted as the coppery scent of blood hit me. I choked back the bile that rose up my esophagus. I would not get sick, and I would not let this random person die on my watch.
I shifted closer, shaking more urgently now, and wiped the blood out of his eyes as best as I could.
He looked like he was a few years older than me, and he was only wearing one boot. Clearly, the other was the one I’d seen in the parking lot.
What the hell had happened? Could he have been hit by a car?
“Please live,” I whispered as my eyes welled with tears. “I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. But help is on the way. Just hang in there.”
By the time I heard sirens, tears were pouring down my face.
Response times weren’t spectacular, as was typical in rural towns, but Lovewell had an excellent fire department. Sure enough, the ambulance crested the hill first, followed by a fire truck.
Unsurprisingly, the police were the last to arrive.
The paramedics were out and rounding their vehicle in seconds. I was still on my knees beside the man as they found his pulse, put an oxygen mask on his face, and checked for spinal injuries.
As they worked, they reported to the police officer that there was no phone, wallet, or identification.
Terror washed over me as I took in the scene. How could something like this happen?
I startled when a gentle hand landed on my shoulder. Blinking, I tipped my head back. Rob hovered above me, holding out a hand. Shaking, I slid mine into it and let him help me to my feet and lead me away from the paramedics.
When we were out of the chaos, he stopped and put his hands on my arms. “Are you okay?”
“I—” I shook my head and held my bloody hands out in front of me. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, let’s sit down and get you a coat. Then we can talk.”
We were halfway to the entrance when Owen came storming out. He stuttered to a stop when he saw me, and his eyes went wide. Then he broke into a run.
“Can I help you, officer?” His tone was sharp.
“Just taking Lila inside to get warm. Then we’ll chat.”
“Is that necessary? We have cameras. Gus will be here any minute to assist you.”
“She found the body,” Rob said firmly.
The two men glowered at one another, neither willing to bend and allow the other to take the lead.
“Owen,” I rasped. “Officer Fielder is my ex-stepdad. It’s fine.” Rob was by far the best of my mom’s ex-husbands. They married when I was in junior high, and even after they divorced a few years later, he’d looked out for me.
“Fine.” He gave me a sharp nod. “But I’m coming with you.”