Page 3 of Wounded Hero

So I'm not afraid to be alone with him. But I'm not stupid either. I've been around my share of bad guys to know I have to keep my guard up. Even the good guys can cross the line sometimes. So when he grabbed at me, taking a swing at him was just a reflex action. I don't let anybody mess with me.

The cabin is not what I expected. Okay, I was expecting a Bruce Wayne manor and a Batman cave of operations. There are no signs here that the man has the sort of money he donates to the town. That he has enough funds to give a family in town a whole new house.

It's a rustic, small, cabin. One room includes a fireplace with one armchair, a single bed in the corner, a small kitchen and then a door which I'm hoping is a bathroom. There is no clutter. No personal items to give me a clue into his personality. No family pictures on the mantle. Just a few books in a large bookshelf. A dog bed set up to the side of the fire, filled with fluffy cushions and letters spelling out Dog on the side.

"Is your dog's name Dog, or is there also a cat here somewhere that thinks that bed belongs to him?"

“The dog's name is Dog. He showed up one day and decided to stay." He shrugs. "Didn't seem right to give him a real name when I didn't know how long he would be around."

“My name is Cora. I work in the library in town.” I say it with a smile though I am a bit miffed he didn’t think to ask my name. Actually he looks at me with surprise and is silent for a good minute before he answers.

“Owen.”

I watch him as he bends to put more wood on the fire. I am fascinated by the way he moves, his long hair, broad shoulders. He gives Dog a little pat on the head. The man obviously has a great deal of affection for his pet. He acts all surly and unpleasant but I have a feeling there is a lot more to him than this act he puts on.

As Owen goes to stand up he suddenly moans in pain and grabs at his thigh. Limping to the armchair he collapses into it. Pain is etched on his features.

"What is it? What happened?" I ask with concern.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

His hand rubs along the length of his outer thigh as he holds that leg straight out in front of him. He looks stiff and uncomfortable. His eyes tightly shut.

I drop down at his feet. My hands going to his thigh to try and ease the pain. He jumps under my touch.

"What are you doing? Get off me. I'm fine."

I sit back on my heels looking up into his face. He glares back at me.

"If you are in pain I might be able to help."

"I don't need any bloody help." He grabs a cane resting against the chair as I scramble out of his way. I see the wince as he gets up out of the chair.

"Storm is coming in and I have to go check the wood supply." At the door he turns and looks at me. "We're stuck here till the weather clears. We'll make a deal. I won't touch you and you don't touch me."

And with that he slams out the door.

My hands on my hips, I stick out my tongue. It's a childish move and Owen doesn't even see it as he has already gone. Butit makes me feel better. I look around the place. I'm not an idle person. In fact, I have trouble staying still. And this place could do with a good clean. So with Owen out of the way I set to searching out supplies and getting to work.

Chapter 4

Owen

Five minutes with a stranger in my cabin and I have already exiled myself out into the cold. I stomp over to the wood pile and start collecting wood. I wonder if Cora will notice that we already have plenty inside.

I can't deny my attraction to the girl. She’s got a great curvy body and a pretty face.But I didn’t expect to react to her the way I did. When she touched my thigh, fuck me, if she had moved her hand a little further up and to the right she would have felt exactly how I felt about her. But the damn pain in my leg is a timely reminder of why I keep myself away from people. I have nothing to offer a young woman. She might have awakened something in me I thought was dormant, but that doesn't mean my circumstances have suddenly changed. Wounded, disfigured, haunted. I am no good for anyone.

And while Cora might not seem to see my scar, there are wounds that run even deeper that she should be frightened of. I'm stuck with her till the storm passes. I will just have to makesure I don't touch her, or let her touch me. Or look at her. Or smell the sweet perfume she wears that makes me think of green fields on a hot summer's day. The girl is not for me and I will keep my distance even if it kills me.

I am a trained professional. I pride myself on my strength of will. Haven't I endured the worst things on this earth. I have built walls and I'm not about to let little Miss. Cora take a sledge hammer to them.

Once I have cooled down I feel it is safe to be in the same room as Cora, I turn and make my way back into the cabin. Opening the door I immediately feel something is off. The air in here feels different. It's not just that. My armchair has been moved and next to it is a crate with a pillow on top and another with a cloth over it. A bloody jar in the middle with a candle in it like some sort of centerpiece. I look over to see Cora dusting the book shelf, humming a little song as she sways this way and back.

Watching her move I am hit once again with attraction and lust. Damn it. My fists ball at my sides as I fight the urge to pull her into my arms.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

She turns to me and grins. "I'm not great at doing nothing. Or sitting still. So I figured I would give this place a clean while I'm here. I used to work as a cleaner, you know?"

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