Page 9 of Owen

Was I hearing him right?

No. I couldn’t possibly be.

“You aren’t serious!” I shouted. He was already almost impossible to see. How had he covered that much ground, that quickly? And in the dark? What was he, superhuman?

Well, he had the build of a superhuman, if such a thing existed. He reminded me of something out of one of my brother’s comic books. Except his skin wasn’t green.

He didn’t answer. I didn’t know if that meant he was most definitely serious and he didn’t see any reason to entertain me, or if he wasn’t serious about helping me and had disappeared.

I knew it. I was too curious. I had asked too many questions. He was tired of me already and I really, really didn’t want to spend the night out in the open, where it was starting to go from chilly to downright cold. The dampness all around me didn’t help things.

Panic started making itself known, spreading through my chest and into my extremities. A crushing sensation settled over my heart, even as it started racing nauseatingly fast. My stomach churned, my palms went slick with sweat, and I couldn’t seem to stop shaking no matter how I tried.

“Owen?” I whispered, my teeth chattering. “Where did you go?”

A spark of light in the distance, became a glow. He had answered me without trying, and the fire he was building now caught flame and showed me exactly where he was and what he was doing.

I was never so relieved, not even when the storm finally quieted down enough for me to step out of the cave and take a look around. Not even when I knew I wasn’t going to die in some cramped little space without food or water.

He was busy gathering more wood over there, handling branches and even larger limbs like they were nothing. I guessed they really were nothing for somebody like him, who looked like he could lift a car without breaking a sweat.

A good sort of man to have nearby in an emergency.

I shook myself when my thoughts turned down a decidedly spicier path. No way. It wasn’t going to happen. He was nice—extremely nice, and helpful. But so was Ted Bundy. This dude could be a serial killer who got his kicks from luring smart, savvy girls by wearing down their defenses.

Only he hadn’t needed to lure me. If anything, my fire had lured him.

He wouldn’t wear down my defenses, that much was for sure. I might have softened up a little, but I could harden real fast. He was a stranger. A very handsome, very hot stranger.

“Damn it, Molly,” I whispered to myself as I watched him. “Cool yourself off, girl. He’s just a guy. And he’ll help you and make sure you don’t get your stupid self killed out here. But that’s it. Maybe you’ll send him a card during the holidays. It’s the least you can do. But nothing more than that.Capisce?”

I didn’t answer myself, because that would mean I was holding a conversation with myself and that would be weird. But I got the message, anyway. I couldn’t let myself fall into the old “damsel in distress” role. I couldn’t fall into his arms or swoon or whatever. Yes, he went above and beyond to help me, but that didn’t make him a hero.

I’d call him a hero if and when he delivered me home. Maybe.

If I even decided to let him know where I lived. Maybe I’d have him drop me off someplace, instead. That way he couldn’t come back and stalk me if he did turn out to be a pervert or something.

Just thinking it all out was exhausting.

First things first. I had to make it through the night, and the idea of him sharing the cave with me was enough to send a shiver down my spine. Not a good shiver.

Though it wasn’t completely bad, either.

My heart fluttered when I realized he was coming back. I arranged myself on the log, trying to act like it didn’t matter, like the sight of him approaching didn’t make me feel nervous and sweaty-palmed. I might as well have been back in high school, with the school quarterback walking toward my table in the cafeteria.

Only the quarterback would never have stopped to see me. Not unless he wanted to commit social suicide.

“How’s it going here?” Owen asked as he approached.

“Hmm? Oh, fine. Thanks. I see you managed to put together a pretty nice fire over there.”

His lips twitched. “Yes. It’s a very nice fire.”

“I mean, it’s bigger than anything I could’ve put together.” I nodded to my own fire, which was on the verge of burning out.

“Yes, well, I have the luxury of mobility. And strength,” he added, “though I don’t doubt you could take my head off with a pickaxe. Or a bat.”

“Don’t test me,” I warned when I sensed he was making fun. “I’m not kidding when I tell you I set the home run record in college. It still stands, five years later.”

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