When she finally looked up at him he stumbled a bit as he continued toward her. Her eyes were a pale blue, almost gray in color. She was dressed plainly in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Her face was pale, but had swaths of red in both cheeks, probably from exertion as well as some sunburn. Since she was sitting down he couldn’t see how tall she was, but she looked tiny to him. Hell, most people looked tiny to him.
But the one thing Dean thought most of all, was that she was beautiful. Sitting on the rock, looking up at him, trying not to look like she needed help. Damn. It hit him. Holy crap. She was his. His One.
He took a deep breath. Holy shit. It was true. All it took was one look and he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything. He hadn’t completely believed the stories he’d heard his entire life, but it was true. A part of him still thought it was ridiculous. He didn’t know anything about her. She could be a raving bitch. She could be married. She could be so many things, including not Becky, but it didn’t seem to matter to his heart. She was his. His.
Dean stopped in front of the woman and watched as she tilted her head back and winced as she looked up at him. He squatted down in the middle of the trail to talk to her, not getting too close to her so she’d feel more comfortable.
“Hi,” he said quietly. “Are you okay?” He wanted nothing more than to reach for her, fold her in his arms and keep her safe. She’d probably deck him if he tried it, though. He was a stranger to her after all. He might know she was his, but she had no idea. Throughout his family’s history the men always had a hard time convincing their One that she was their One. It seemed it would be the same in his case as well.
Becky tried to smile at the gorgeous man in front of her. She furiously blushed, knowing she looked like crap. Why couldn’t she meet someone like him when she was all dressed up and looking her best? Figured. “Hi, of course, just resting for a bit. It’s a long hike.” She mentally smacked herself in the head. She was such a dork. Just resting for a bit? Jesus, she sounded stupid even to her own ears.
She wasn’t quite sure how to go about asking for help, as she didn’t have to do it very often but she didn’t have a choice.
“Have you seen a woman and two—no…three men back that way?” she asked, gesturing toward the direction the parking lot was in.
Dean shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen anyone and my truck is the only vehicle in the lot.”
Becky sighed. She figured they would’ve left, but it still hurt to hear her suspicions were correct. She really was nobody important on the stupid show. She tried not to let it depress her any more than she already was. After all, she knew it by the way everyone acted around her, but she couldn’t help it when her shoulders sagged. Shit. Could this day get any worse?
“Can I help?” Dean asked quietly. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to pick her up, hold her close and never let her go. To tell her nothing would ever hurt her again, that he wouldn’t allow it. But he knew he couldn’t do it. He was a stranger. She didn’t recognize him as her One. He had to be careful not to alienate her. He just wanted to help her.
“Can you call someone for me? I don’t have a cell phone on me,” Becky asked quietly, and when Dean took out his cell phone, she shook her head. “Crap…uh…never mind…sorry…I don’t know the number at my friend’s house,” she said awkwardly. She must sound like the biggest flake.
Dean simply put the phone back in his pocket, relieved he had a reason to prolong his contact with her, and held out his hand.
“My name is Dean,” he said simply. “Dean Baker.”
Becky looked at the hand the man reached toward her. It was calloused and big and she wanted to grab a hold of it and never let go. She could even imagine him laying it on her cheek and brushing his thumb over her cheek. Jesus. She shook her head and figured she was feeling needy because of the last couple of weeks of not having anyone look at her like she was someone.
She reached toward his hand. “Becky Reynolds,” she told him. She followed his eyes to her hand she was holding out and at the last minute took it back and hugged it to her chest. It was scraped and bleeding…there was no way she could shake his hand without it hurting. She met his eyes and shrugged apologetically.
Dean saw her hand and held his breath. It was killing him that she was hurt. It was physically hurting him as much as she probably hurt herself. He was in a pickle. This was his One and she was on a reality show to find a husband. How the hell was he going to get around that?
Dean moved slowly toward the rock that Becky was sitting on and gestured toward it as if asking permission to sit next to her. Becky scooted over and gave him some room.
Dean asked again, “Are you okay? What happened? You look a little worse for the wear,” he said with a smile, hoping she’d trust him just a little. He needed her to trust him. He held his hand out toward her again, palm up. “Can I see your hand? I promise to be gentle.”
Becky grimaced at herself. Not answering his question about letting him see her hand, she kept it close to her chest and said, “Yeah, I slipped on the trail on my way down…but I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”
Dean slipped his backpack off and told her calmly, trying to sound nonchalant, “I have some basic first aid things in my bag, let me help.” He kept his voice low and calm, trying once again to help her.
“I really just need to get a ride back to my friend’s house,” Becky said again, trying desperately not to break down. Why was he being so nice? “I’m not hurt that badly, I can get cleaned up there,” she said with a quaver in her voice.
Dean continued to hold his hand out toward her. He didn’t understand why she was downplaying her injuries. By the way she was squinting he knew she had to have a headache, and there was the blood he could see on her palms and on the collar of her shirt.
“Please,” he told her quietly. “Let me help you. I can at least help you wash your hands so they don’t get infected. Then can you please let me take a look at your head where you hit it? I’m worried about you.”
Becky cocked her head and looked at him, ignoring his comment about worrying about her, even though it sent tingles throughout her body. She asked after a moment, “How do you know I hit my head?”
Dean took a deep breath. This was killing him. Why wouldn’t she just give in and let him help her? He usually admired women who were tough in the face of adversity, but he’d give anything for Becky to want to lean on him and let him take care of her. He answered honestly, “You’re squinting like your head hurts, and I can see a bit of blood on the collar of your shirt. You also have some dried blood under your fingertips. I figured it had to have come from your head somewhere. If you aren’t going to let me do it, please take this wet wipe and clean your hands so they don’t get infected. I really want to at least check out your head to make sure it’s not worse than you think it is. I’m sure you know head wounds can be dangerous.”
“It’s not bleeding anymore,” Becky told him quietly. “It’ll hold until I get back to the house.”
“What can it hurt for me to take a look to be sure?” Dean insisted, about ready to be done with the back and forth between them and just take her hands into his own and take care of her whether she wanted him to or not.
Becky sighed. She really did just want to get back the house and not have to deal with this anymore. But it didn’t look like this man was going anywhere anytime soon and he genuinely sounded like he wanted to help her.
“You aren’t an escaped murderer, are you?” she asked him, only half kidding.
Dean shook his head and tried to look as non-threatening as he could. “Would a crazed escaped killer take the time to try to wash your hands before he killed you?” he asked with a chuckle.
Becky giggled and shook her head, wincing when the movement made her head ache again. She reached up to take the scrunchie out of her hair when Dean stopped her.
“Let me,” he said as he reached for her hair.
Becky flinched as he reached
toward her and she made a conscious effort not to back away from him.
Dean noticed the flinch and paused in mid reach and asked, “May I? I promise I’ll be gentle and will do what I can not to hurt you further.”
At Becky’s reluctant nod he reached over slowly and unwound the hairband and loosened her hair, careful not to pull on it or otherwise cause her any unnecessary pain.
Becky closed her eyes. Man, it felt good to have his hands in her hair. Even though the pain of her injury persisted; she could enjoy his hands on her. She’d never really been touched that much after her mom died, maybe hugs by some friends every now and then, and his hands were so gentle. It was pathetic that this was turning her on. She really needed to get out more. Dean removed her hair from its bindings.
She took a deep breath and smelled…him. Holy crap, he smelled good. She didn’t think he was wearing cologne, because he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would drown himself in a manufactured scent, but whatever soap he used must be slightly scented. He smelled like the ocean and…man. She didn’t know how to describe it, but it was delicious.
Dean was trying to control himself. He couldn’t believe she was here. That he’d finally found his One. The fact it was because she was injured was making it not quite what he’d envisioned, but it didn’t matter. He’d take care of her, then figure out what came next. He’d not lose her now.
Her hair was smooth and when he ran his fingers through it, loosening it up and making sure it was all out of the scrunchie, it slid through his fingers easily.
Dean immediately felt the wound on the back of her head. It seemed pretty big and he could tell that it had bled somewhat profusely. It was still oozing just a little bit of blood, but for the most part it’d stopped and didn’t look life threatening.
He took a washcloth from his pack and wet it with his water bottle. He looked at Becky. She had her eyes closed and her hands in her lap. She didn’t flinch when he started cleaning her wound, but he saw her hands clench into tight fists. He knew he was hurting her, but he also knew he didn’t have a choice.
“You really hit your head hard, Becky,” he told her. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Becky gave him a small nod.
“Will you let me take you to the hospital?” He tried again and as soon as he said the word ‘hospital,’ Becky jerked away from him and stood up with a wobble.
“No, I told you, I’m fine! I don’t need to go to the hospital!”
“Okay, okay,” Dean said soothingly. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about that bump.”
Becky sighed. Crap. She was screwing this up royally. “Really, I’m fine. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just want to get back to my friend’s house. I’ve had a concussion before, this isn’t one. Yes, it hurts, and yes I have a headache, but nothing is rattling around in there, I promise.”
She tried to smile at him. Dean couldn’t smile back. He was reaching the end of his limit of letting her stand alone and not allow him to help her. He reached back into his pack and came up with a small bottle.
“How about a couple of aspirin then?” he said with a small smile. “Will you at least take these?” Becky gratefully held out her hand and took the peace offering. If he was a killer and was offering her cyanide pills or something, so be it. She’d take the chance. She needed those aspirin.
“Thank you, Dean. Seriously. I’m sorry I’m being such a bitch. This hasn’t been the best day for me. Will you help me wash the rest of the blood out of my hair before we go? I’d rather not go back to the house with the blood in my hair.” She had no idea why she was trusting this stranger, this man, like she was. It was unlike her. It was especially unlike her to want to lay her head on his broad chest and have him hold her.
“Of course, Becky, I’ll do anything you want me to,” Dean answered honestly. “And you’re not being a bitch. As you said, you’re having a bad day. Give me your hands, let’s start there.”
She sat back down beside him and held her hands out to him with her palms facing up.
Dean took her right hand in his and used the wet wipe to clean her palm. Because of the fall, and the subsequent climb up the hill, they were filthy. After wiping the dirt away he could see the scrapes underneath. When he was finished with that hand, he brought it up to his mouth and kissed her palm. He held his lips to her skin for as long as he thought he could get away with before placing it back in her lap and taking her left hand into his and beginning to clean it as well.
Becky curled her right hand into a fist as if she could hold the feel of his lips on her skin a little longer by the action. She’d never, in her entire life, felt the way she had when Dean had kissed her. She felt…special. Wanted. Desired. So much feeling by one simple touch of his lips. It took her breath away.
Dean finished wiping her left hand clean and kissed it the same way he did the right. He placed that hand back into her lap, took her by the shoulders and turned her away from him.
Everything he did was no nonsense and done with a purpose. Becky thought it was sexy as hell.
“Turn this way so I can get to your head easier,” he told her softly as he spun her around. “Tip your head back and look at the sky. I don’t want to get your shirt wet. I’m going to pour some of my water on your hair to rinse the blood out.”
Becky did as he asked and closed her eyes as she looked upward. He carefully cleaned the back of her head and got as much blood out of her hair as he could. She opened her eyes when he started drying her hair with something. Oh man, if he’d taken his shirt off she didn’t know what she’d do. She looked and sighed with relief, at least she tried to convince herself it was relief. He’d taken an extra shirt from his backpack and used that to dry her hair as best he could. He’d been so gentle with her. He’d done just as he said he would, and hadn’t hurt her.
Dean’s hands on her shoulders were gentle. Becky opened her eyes and found herself looking into his eyes. He’d knelt on the ground in front of her and was staring at her intently.
Dean looked at this amazing woman, who, thank God was his, and said seriously, “I’m worried about you. I’m not sure I can just drop you off and forget about it. Will you let me contact you? Will you let me know you’re okay after today?”
Becky swallowed. Why couldn’t this man be on the show? Then again, she figured as soon as he saw Marissa he’d probably forget all about her.
“Dean,” she said hesitantly. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”
Dean cut her off. “Please, I need to know you’re all right, Becky,” he said urgently.
Becky looked at the man in front of her. He sounded sincere and she wasn’t sure what to tell him. She really, really didn’t want to lie to him, and she was conscious of the confidentiality contract that she’d signed. But she also liked him. Here she was, covered in blood and dirt. It was irrational as hell, not to mention that she wasn’t at her best at the moment, but something about him drew her in.
“I don’t have a phone, and um…I’m not allowed to receive any phone calls…I’m kinda on vacation right now…but it’s also kind of a job…” Her voice trailed off, realizing how dumb and flighty she sounded. She didn’t want Dean to think that she didn’t want to talk to him. “Oh, shit…here’s the deal…I’m on a reality show being filmed here in Arizona,” she blurted out suddenly. The hell with it, she wasn’t going to find anyone to spend her life with among the choices on the show, so why not? She didn’t know what she expected Dean to say but it wasn’t what came out of his mouth.
“Really? Are you serious? Cool! My brother is a camera operator on that show!” Dean tried to sound as convincing as possible. It wasn’t that he wanted to lie to her, he just figured it would be better if she thought he didn’t know who she was.
Becky just looked at him in disbelief. A camera operator? What were the odds? “He is?” was all she could get out.
“Yes, ma’am, and that means I’ll be able to have a guest pass to come to the set! That is…”
He paused and suddenly looked nervous, “if you want me to come and see you.”
Becky looked down. “Um, Dean, I don’t think I’ll be able to talk to you when I go back. It’s, um…a dating show…and I’m only supposed to talk to the other people on the show…” She didn’t want to discourage him, but she had no idea how this could work. There was no way Eddie was going to allow her to have ‘visitors,’ especially if it was a man.
Dean smiled at her. “You know what? Where there’s a will there’s a way. Now that I know where you’ll be, we’ll figure it out. Just know that I want to figure it out. Come on, let’s get you back to the house so you can shower and rest. You’ll feel better once you can take a nice long shower and get into clean clothes.”
He carefully took her hand and helped her stand up. He kept his hand on her waist until he was sure she was steady on her feet. Then he helped her shrug on her backpack and started back down the trail toward the parking lot. He reached out and gently took her hand in his as they walked, smiling at her when she didn’t protest or pull it out of his grasp.
Becky smiled back at him as she walked. Even though her head hurt and she didn’t know what would be waiting for her back at the house, she felt content holding Dean’s hand and just being with him. It was the oddest feeling, and she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t been experiencing it for herself. It freaked her out on one hand, but on the other she was so tired of being treated like crap and feeling like she was nothing. She’d gladly soak up every ounce of attention she could get from this man. And it wasn’t as if Dean was hard on the eyes. He was gorgeous and she got goosebumps remembering the feel of his lips on her palm.
Suddenly, she thought of something else. She was on a dating show and his brother probably knew everything that was going on since he was a camera operator. She was instantly mortified. What had his brother told him about the show already…about her? Maybe he’d known she was going to be here today and wanted to see the reality show reject. She stopped walking suddenly and pulled her hand out of his.
Flaming Hearts (Beyond Reality Book 2) Page 4