by J. C. Cliff
As my head rests back, I gaze out through the skylight above. It looks to be a warm, sunny day, and for some reason, I have the innate urge to feel the sunshine on my skin.
When Travis is finished rinsing my hair, I touch his large bicep to get his attention. “Travis, I can’t thank either one of you enough. I know I’m on repeat here, but you both are sacrificing so much to help me out. I’m not sure if I can ever repay you guys for everything.”
“No need to repay. Just get better.”
Once I do get better, I will find a way to repay them. Changing the subject, I ask curiously, “Is this your place, or Stryker’s?”
“A few buddies and I went in together and built this cabin. We all share it, using it for a getaway, an oasis of sorts.”
“Did you guys do the decorating?”
“You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” He pauses to grin at me. “But to answer your question, Stryker was dating a girl at the time who was an interior designer. We gave her a budget to stay within, and this is what we wound up with.” He pauses a moment, looking into my eyes with playfulness. “Why do you ask? Do you like it?”
I nod. “Just curious, but yes, I love the décor and the colors.” I wonder if I’m overstepping my bounds, but I just gotta ask, “Does Stryker have a girlfriend now?”
Travis shakes his head. “No, he’s not ready to settle down yet. Let’s just say he enjoys playing the field.”
He grabs a dry cloth to wipe my face, and when he's done, a small smile emerges from my face. He returns my smile and it warms my heart. “What are you thinking about now?”
“Do you...do you enjoy playing the field?” I ask warily.
He doesn’t hesitate to answer me. “I only want to play in your ballpark, sweetheart.” He playfully taps the tip of my nose with his finger, leaving behind a dollop of bubbles. “I’ve had plenty of time to get that out of my system. You are the only one I want to see when I close my eyes at night, and you’re the first thing I think of when I wake up every morning.”
How sweet is that? I look upon his gaze admiringly, and shake my head in bewilderment. “Thank you, Travis. You’re so sweet to take me in like this,” I reply, grabbing the bottle of conditioner and handing it to him. I don’t know how to respond to his endearment, since I don’t remember him the way he remembers me. “I truly do appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
“You’re welcome; I’d do anything for you.” His eyes hold such conviction, and the way he said he’d do anything for me strikes a chord deep within me. Somehow, I believe every one of his words, despite the fact it’s a pretty hefty thing for someone to confess, especially for one who’s only known me for about a month.
When Travis tugs my lower lip free by using his thumb, he gives me a playful wink. “Don’t overthink it, Jules. I know you’re not there yet, but I’ll be waiting right here for you when you are.” He then holds up the bottle of conditioner with a small grin. “So how much of this do you want?”
“Enough for a horse,” I say with a playful smile.
“Fair enough.” As he works the conditioner through my hair to the ends of my long mane, a question niggles at me, and before I know it, it bubbles up to the surface as I surprise myself for being so bold. “Travis?”
“Mm-hm?” he hums as he stays busy, keeping on task.
“How old are you?”
He pauses, shifting his gaze to mine, his lips quirking as if he finds my question humorous. Dear Lord, I swear the man must be a fitness model in his spare time, especially when he goes all playful. “Not old enough to be your sugar daddy, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh, my gosh, Travis!” I playfully swat at his chest, getting his t-shirt wet.
“Hey now! This is your bath...not mine.” He jerks back, trying to avoid getting more water on him.
“Okay, so answer me,” I playfully raise a brow, “or you’ll find yourself doing the backstroke in here.”
He pauses to consider my statement. “That wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” My lips shut tight; I’m done trying to satiate my curiosity for the day. Chuckling, he then answers me, “Thirty-two.” He locks his eyes with mine, and I watch with bated breath as his full lips quirk up into a lively grin. His lips stop a mere few inches away from mine, and suddenly, I wonder what it would feel like to press my lips against his. All of a sudden, I notice my mouth growing parched at the thought, and I still my movements while licking my lips. What is wrong with me? Am I typically a cat in heat, or is it Travis bringing it out of me? The air stills around us, turning quiet and passionately potent.
I watch as Travis’ grin slowly falls from his lips as the moment begins to turn rather intense. Even the bath water becomes placid and calm as I hold my breath, wondering if he’s going to close the distance and kiss me. I feel an electrical charge sparking between us, and it’s undeniably strong. I believe he should come with a sticker, ‘To avoid electrical shock, do not immerse in water.’
I watch him swallow hard as he contemplates my unspoken sentiments. My heartbeat begins to pound in my chest, and my eyes fall to half-mast as I slip into a lustful trance. The moment grows stiflingly heavy and heated for a brief moment as he looks upon my lips with desire. It’s written all over his face what he wants, and my lips slightly part in invitation. Just as I think he’s going to lean forward and kiss me, he clears his throat, and then shifts his gaze to his forgotten task. The moment is lost when he grabs the shower wand and begins rinsing the conditioner out of my hair. I close my eyes, silently letting out the breath I was holding while I dream of the almost kiss.
When he’s finished with my hair, he leans over me while resting his elbows against the rim of the bathtub and pulls the plug out of the drain. I watch as the water begins to audibly glug and swirl itself down the pipe, along with my kiss.
“Stand up, sweetheart.” His voice pulls me from my meditative thoughts, and I shyly place my hand in his as he helps me to my feet. He grabs the shower wand again and begins rinsing me off, getting the last of the soap off my body without ogling me. He stays silent, yet noble and dignified as he finishes his task, and then shuts the water off. He quickly turns to grab a towel from the counter, trying to keep me from getting chilled, and wraps me in a large, fluffy cocoon of warmth. It feels so good to feel fresh and clean. He offers me his hand, and I take it as he helps me out of the tub. Once I’m out, he grabs another towel and begins gently towel-drying my hair.
Giving me a quick peck on the cheek, he softly orders me, “Stay here in the warmth of the bathroom, and let me get you some fresh clothes.” He leaves me for a moment, and my curiosity gets the best of me. I turn my back to the full-length mirror and look over my shoulder while dropping my towel down around my waist. I suck in a quick breath, gasping aloud at what I see as my heart stops in its tracks.
Red, welted lashes decorate my back in no particular pattern, with different thicknesses and degrees of severity. Twisting my body to the side, I try and get a better view in the mirror’s reflection, but it proves too difficult. From what I can tell, however, a monster truck went four wheelin’ over my back and left behind multiple sets of angry tire tracks. I feel my stomach roil with turbulent waves of nausea. The very sight leaves me perplexed and horrified, not knowing what to think. I’m literally dumfounded.
In my periphery, I notice Travis is standing in the doorway as he watches me take stock of my injuries. “Travis.” I inhale sharply, and slowly turn toward him in shock. My breath catches. “This...this is not normal. What happened to me?” I ask my voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, he just closes his eyes, as if he’s the one in pain. Then he pushes his shoulder off the doorframe and steps into the bathroom, closing the distance between us. He blocks my view from the mirror with his large torso and wraps me in a gentle hug from behind, being careful not to put too much pressure on my back.
“Since I wasn’t there, I can only guess.” He places his lips on top of my head, givin
g me an endearing kiss. He’s so much taller than me as the top of my head comes to rest just under his chin. “I don’t want you thinking about it, or worrying your pretty little head over it. Dr. Anderson wants you to stay stress-free, and that’s my goal. You’re more than safe here with me.”
I tentatively nod in acknowledgement. He’s right; I do want to get better, but I also want to know what caused those marks. I feel him loosen the towel around my back and my brows pull together, confused over what he’s going to do.
“I have some cream I want to apply to your abrasions. Dr. Anderson gave it to me, and it will help you heal faster, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
He gently and carefully begins to rub the cream over my back with barely there touches, which is in total contradiction to the strength I know he’s capable of. Occasionally, I find myself wincing as he applies the lotion. “A day or two more and you should be feeling back to normal.” Once he completes his task, he slips a loose sundress over my head. “Just so you know, I’m not perving here, and you can have one if you want, but I think if you put on a bra right now, it will only chafe your skin. I don’t want you to be more uncomfortable than you already are right now.”
I nod in agreement and watch as he grabs a pair of light blue panties from the counter top and drops to his knees. He holds out the pair of panties for me to step into, and I comply.
He turns me around in the full-length mirror and grabs a brush, and begins gently brushing out my long hair. Wow...when I said I didn’t want to be alone, I truly didn’t expect him to do all of this. I’m mesmerized watching his roped muscles flex in his thick forearms as he carefully untangles my hair, being careful not to pull too hard. The way he’s doting on me makes me feel indescribably cherished.
When he’s done, he kisses the top of my head and asks, “How do you feel now?” I look at him through the reflection of the mirror, and am greeted with a soothing smile spread across his face, and I return the gesture.
“Much better, thank you.” The warm bath having relaxed my tense muscles and the pain medicine having done its magic, I feel a thousand times better.
“C’mon, let’s get you some breakfast and go meet Stryker.” He tugs my hand gently, threading his fingers through mine, and I follow behind.
~Travis~
Heading out into the kitchen, the smell of bacon has fragranced the entire house, and my stomach grumbles in reply. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. Stryker is at the stove, flipping pancakes when we walk in. He cocks his head to the side and gives Jules a panty-dropping smile. I have to scoff at the man; he’s such a damn ladies’ man. He hasn’t really changed at all over the years, still holding his boyish charm and his handsome, surfer physique.
He pushes the skillet off the burner and comes to wrap Jules in a warm, friendly hug. “Good morning, I hope you don’t mind if I call you Jules.”
She shakes her head and grins. “No, that’s fine.”
“Well, you can just call me Strike, if you want to.”
She bites down on her lower lip shyly, not knowing what to think of Stryker’s flamboyant display of confidence. Ranger comes to get in on the action, and nuzzles his nose against Jules’ thigh, begging for attention.
She smiles, looking down at Ranger, who’s wagging his tail a mile a minute. “And who do we have here?” she asks playfully, bending down to scratch behind his furry ears.
“This is Ranger. Any friend of mine is a friend of his. He’s retired military.”
Jules tilts her head to the side in confusion. “I didn’t realize there was such a thing as retired military dogs.”
“Yep, he served four tours in Afghanistan as a bomb seeker.”
“Wow.” Amazement lines her voice, and then she asks Stryker, “So what do you do for a living?”
He exchanges a silent glance with me, but he doesn’t miss a beat in his reply. “I’m more of a private investigator.”
“Oh, and what were you before?”
“I was a medic in the Rangers.”
“Wow, that’s pretty impressive.”
Knowing he needs to change the subject, he steers it toward food. “C’mon, have a seat. You guys must be starved; I’m just finishing up the pancakes.” My brow arches in question at Stryker, and when Jules isn’t looking, he mouths to me, “Gluten-free.” I relax and nod in acknowledgement. I’ve got to keep on my toes here, and keep up with what’s gluten-free and what isn’t. Not knowing what gluten-free tastes like, I just hope the pancakes are halfway decent, because I’m starved.
I pull out a kitchen chair for her to sit, but she doesn’t take notice. She’s distracted by something, so I follow her line of vision, realizing it’s the outside world that has caught her attention.
The sun’s rays filter into the kitchen and living room area as she stares through the set of large, arched windows before us. She’s almost in a trance as she looks out past the windowpanes with longing in her eyes. I feel sick inside, almost losing my appetite with the knowledge she’s been held captive in a cell without seeing daylight for weeks. My jaw clenches as I grow angry at the thought.
Gently, I place my hand on the small of her back, catching her attention. “Would you like to eat outside, sweetheart?” I ask over her shoulder.
She turns to me with a gleam in her eye and gives me the most heart-stopping smile. “Yes, I would love that.”
“Why don’t you go on out and have a seat at the patio table. I’ll bring you some orange juice.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Elated, she flashes me a grin with a glint of excitement in her eyes, and takes off through the sliding glass doors. As I watch her through the glass dreamily, Stryker interrupts my thoughts. “So…how’s she feeling this morning?
I shake myself out of my stupor and begin heading toward the fridge, grabbing the carton of orange juice, answering his question, “I’m amazed at her abilities, how she keeps adjusting and adapting to every circumstance that’s thrown her way. It’s like she just accepts things for the way they are, and deals with it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her complain either.
“She’s a pretty tough cookie, not hard on the eyes either. No wonder she caught your attention.”
I nod, agreeing with Stryker as he flips another pancake. “But it’s more than her looks—she’s just as beautiful, if not more, on the inside.” I pause in thought while pouring orange juice into three glasses. “It’s evident she’s trying to stay positive, and she recognizes the fact her situation is only temporary.”
Stryker arches his brow and gives me a pointed stare. “Does she know you’re not temporary?”
“No, not yet.” I frown in reply. “I’m not looking forward to that moment either.”
He lets out a low whistle and shakes his head. “I’m glad it ain’t me. I’m here for you, you know that, but I’m also going to tell you: ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’”
I give Stryker a slap on his shoulder and squeeze. “Thanks for the pep talk, man. Very encouraging,” I say with sarcasm.
Stryker chuckles as he removes the hotcake from the pan and places it on top of the growing stack. “Go on outside and bond with your woman; your times a-tickin’. I’ll bring all the food out in a minute.”
“Smartass,” I reply under my breath. I grab two glasses of orange juice, and before I head outside, I remind Stryker of our number one priority for the day. “Once her pain meds kick in and she lays down for a nap, we need to head upstairs and start working on obtaining new identities.”
“Gotcha covered, man.”
Jules and I had said our goodbyes to Stryker this afternoon, since he had to head back to Raleigh. It’s late now, and I’m making sure the cabin is locked up and secure. The last few nights have been uneventful, thank God. The three of us have spent quite a bit of time together over these past few days. I wanted to keep Stryker here long enough to ensure she was past the dangers and complications from her head injury. It’s been nice and p
eaceful, and hopefully she’s learning to trust me more and more with each passing day. I feel as if she’s even formed a brotherly bond with Stryker. He’s so easygoing and laid back, and he can get along with his worst enemy, so it’s hard not to like him.
Jules spent most of her time curled up on the sofa, drifting between sleep and watching old movies, while Stryker and I took care of her. Between Stryker and me, we must have over five hundred DVDs, from every genre imaginable. I’ve been rubbing the special cream on her back three times a day, and finally the abrasions are damn near gone, but bruising has transpired in their wake, and they’re scattered all over her backside.
Usually when Jules drifted off during the daytime, it was the perfect opportunity for us to slink away to the upstairs computer room. There are three bedrooms upstairs, but Stryker and I turned one of them into a fully-equipped reconnaissance room. We use a numbered keypad to lock the door, keeping it secure around the clock.
I’ve been trying to investigate Jules and everything else that pertains to her every free chance I get. I’m trying to shed some light on why Nick specifically chose her. Gaining access to her personal information has been easy as hell, but I come up empty-handed every damn time I search for information about anyone affiliated with her, including her father. The man must do everything with paper and pencil, because there is no pertinent information, and I have no leads to follow. Unfortunately, the only thing the computer has been good for is trying to learn about this gluten-free shit. It’s like studying Japanese. It’s a small price to pay, however, because every minute she’s with me is a treasure, and hopefully a step closer to making us a permanent reality.