Rescued by that New Guy in Town

by J. L. Salter

  "Well, I'm not meant to be caged in a small apartment with people on the other side of three walls and my ceiling. It's killing me…" Ryan's eyes looked damp. "Out here, your spirit can soar."

  "Like that hawk."

  Ryan nodded. Then he looked around the nearby ground and picked up a fallen branch. After close examination, he tossed it away and selected a different one. He broke off a large appendage, and then snapped away several smaller twigs. "I always walk with a stick. You want one?"

  "Uh, yeah." I reached for the piece he'd broken off.

  "No, let me find you a good one." Ryan held up his hand like an artist about to paint my portrait. "Four feet would be about right for you." He took great care selecting my pole. After examining and discarding at least three unsatisfactory samples, he found one. "Perfect." Then he trimmed mine as he had his own.

  When he presented it to me, I had the feeling he was giving me a cherished knight's sword. "Thanks, I've been needing a good walking stick." Actually that was a fib, since I rarely ventured into those woods.

  "In the woods I usually carry a camp knife too, but left mine at home."

  "You mean like a scout pocket knife?"

  He smiled. "No, one with a sturdy, thick blade." He held his hands about a foot apart.

  "A blade that long would be a machete or a Bowie, wouldn't it?"

  "No, a camp knife blade is usually about six or seven inches. I do have a Bowie, but it's not practical to carry anywhere." His eyes lit up when he talked about knives. "When we get back, I'll use one of your blades and trim it better. If you have a saw, I can square off both ends." His mood had obviously brightened since we left the house and those depressing history topics.

  I didn't have any real tools of my own, except the most basic implements, but my landlord had left several items in the garage — if we could get to them. "Yeah, there's a saw somewhere."

  "Cool. So how far do you want to go?" My expression must have shown confusion, because Ryan squinted at me and chuckled. "I meant, how far west before we have to double back?"

  "Oh…" Yeah, I'd been thinking of the other "far" and frankly, I was ready to go as far as he'd come with me. "Well, it's about…" I pulled the phone out of my jacket pocket and checked its clock display, "…five-twenty, so we have maybe thirty or forty minutes of daylight left. Let's walk for fifteen or so and then we can head back."

  "Do you know the way?"

  "To what?" I was stumped.

  "There was a bit of a trail to begin with, but I don't see where it goes from this little clearing." He waved his pole vaguely from north, through west, to south. "But at one time, it went somewhere."

  "Uh, I don't really know. Maybe this is as far as anybody's ever gone." I stepped closer to him. "You forge ahead and I'll stay on your tail." I tried not to smile, but couldn't help it.

  He grinned and leaned down to kiss me. Hardly any tongue and didn't last long, but it sure felt good. "Being in the woods is invigorating, don't you think?"

  Well, kissing Ryan was invigorating, no matter where we were. "Uh, yeah… woods."

  As we'd kissed, his left hand was on the small of my back. Then he moved it lower and patted my rump. "Okay, let's go." Then he took off toward the setting sun, picking his way around larger trees and stepping over fallen logs.

  An early frost had killed lots of the poison ivy but there were still briars to contend with. Evidently, that was the primary use of his walking stick. Confession: I was watching the seat of his jeans to begin with, but quickly realized I needed to be more aware of branches and thorns, so I shifted my attention. Ryan had a natural sense of picking out a trail and easily worked us around a few spots where it was too dense to get through. Occasionally, he'd break a small limb and leave it dangling. I'd seen enough movies to know he was marking the trail so we could get back to the clearing.

  I didn't know how much ground we'd covered, but the sun was so much lower that I pulled out my phone again. Five-thirty-seven.

  Ryan heard me stop and turned around. "Time to go already?" He looked like an energetic boy crestfallen when someone in uniform started locking the gates to a vast playground.

  "Well, I don't know exactly, but there's no street lights out here in the sticks, so it'll be plenty dark by about six. I figure we've got about twenty minutes to return to civilization."

  "Do we have to go back?" From his expression I could tell he wished we'd keep hiking into the sunset.

  I didn't reply, but it was getting colder and I guess I shivered slightly.

  "Yeah, I know. No camping gear. We ought to go."

  Camping gear? I was a city girl, as much as one could be in a small town. I don't do camping. Still, if Ryan wanted to sleep with me out in a tent sometime, I guess I could fake it. No, I don't mean fake that… just pretend to like the tent stuff. Ha.

  "Have you kept your bearings enough to make our way back?" Ryan's grin had some mischief behind it.

  Yikes! I didn't know there would be a test. "Uh, I'll recognize parts of it." I remembered he'd always steered to the south of the dense areas and I could probably spot the branches he marked, unless it got dark too quickly. "Yeah. I'll lead."

  "And I'll stick to your tail." He swatted mine again, slightly harder than before.

  Just enough to feel it through my jeans, but not any discomfort. In fact, it felt… what was the word? Well, I'll look through reference books later. It felt exciting. But with daylight fading, I needed to head back east, so I took off.

  Over the next fifteen minutes, I impressed both of us with my woodsy acumen. I found the way back to that small clearing after only two hesitations. A quick look back at the setting sun to get my bearings and I was able to steer us back on course.

  As Ryan had said, he was close behind. When we reached the clearing, he dropped his stick and scooped me up in his arms like we were about to cross a threshold. It caught me by surprise and I nearly beaned him with my pole before I wisely tossed it clear. "You're quite a tracker, young lady!" He smiled broadly and gave me a quick kiss.

  I beamed with pride. Who would have thought forest navigation would be one of my stellar accomplishments? I hadn't experienced much that was remarkable in the past few years. It felt good. Really good. When he kissed me again, it felt even better. I don't know how long that kiss lasted, but it ended too soon. Then Ryan must have remembered his cut, because he lowered his arms and my body slid down the front of him until I was standing again. I hugged him tightly — the right hug at the right time with the right man.

  If it hadn't gotten dark and cold, I could've stood there and embraced Ryan until we fell to the ground and made love with wild abandon. But I wasn't all that big on woods, especially in darkness, and with my recent awareness that coyotes traipsed down to the pond for nightly draughts. Plus, I'd never made love on the dirty ground and didn't particularly want to.

  "Guess we ought to head back to your house." Ryan's voice revealed regret that we'd lost the daylight.

  "Yeah, temperature's dropping." The darkness had fallen a lot quicker than I'd imagined. Out in the open there might have remained a bit of light from the distant glow on the horizon, but not among tall autumn trees. Plus, the clearing was in a low swale and the westerly crest blocked even more of whatever light might remain farther, yonder. "Can you see the trail out?" I couldn't.

  "Sure. Stay close." Ryan retrieved his stick and struck out. I'd get my pole some other time. Right then I planned to stay on his tail, literally. I hooked three fingers in his belt and hurried to keep pace with his long legs.

  A few branches brushed my face; some briars scraped my leather-covered arms and denim-covered legs. Before I realized it, we'd reached the eastern edge of the woods. Ryan stopped and started to turn to his left. Since my hand still clutched his belt, I got partly wrapped around him. I didn't mind a bit.

  Ryan seemed not to object either and smoothly turned it into a new embrace. I could feel his heart beat quickly as he looked back toward the forest. "I love the
woods, even at night."

  "I might be more of an afternoon woods-person." My face remained buried in his chest. "At night it's a little spooky."

  "That's why you should take a knife and always carry a stick." He looked for mine. "Where's yours?"

  "Uh, I left it in the clearing. It was all I could do to keep up with you."

  I hadn't spotted the moon through the high limbs until that moment and there was just enough moonlight to see Ryan's smile. "Well, we can go back and get it in the morning."

  Did he say morning? What did that mean? If it meant what I thought it did, we would be two for dinner… and breakfast. Wow!

  If I had worried about falling into the pond at night, I needn't have. When we reached that area, the moon was fully reflected in the water, though a slight breeze rippled the image a bit.

  "This is beautiful out here." Ryan acted like he'd never seen such outdoor loveliness. "You're beautiful."

  Golly. I was still amazed at how that adjective warmed me. Yeah, all over. It felt amazing to be described like that again. I wasn't sure of the appropriate verbal response, so I just hugged his left side tightly and rose up on my toes to kiss him. A cold breeze whipped up beside us and I shivered.

  Ryan chuckled while our lips were still together. "Too cold outside?"

  I nodded. It was lovely and I could stay in his arms for a long time. But, as a practical matter, we were in view of two or three neighbors, at least one of whom was decidedly nosy. So inside was a proper destination.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  When we entered the back door with considerably more noise than I usually made arriving home, Elvis yawned largely and closed his mouth with a discernable clack.

  I turned to Ryan. "Hungry yet?" I'd never been the model hostess, but surely I could throw together something edible.

  "Starving." He removed his coat, very slowly over the right shoulder. No bloodstains on the new shirt, so the bandages had held okay. "What have you got?" It almost sounded like he wanted a menu.

  I quickly took my own jacket to the back room and returned. "Let's see: frozen pizza, cans of soup, or I could scramble some eggs. What's your pleasure?"

  Ryan had a look that made me think we were talking about something else. "Surprise me."

  I was ready to. In fact, I could have thrown myself against him and ripped off his clothes. That's how ready I was, after nearly four years without it. But I knew he was hungry for food and I was too. Calm down, Kristen. "The surprise will be over when you see me cracking the eggs. So you get in here and make some toast."

  He washed his hands in the sink and looked around for bread. I pointed to the correct cabinet. When I began beating the eggs, I heard Ryan whistling softly. Couldn't make out the tune, but whatever it was seemed indicative of someone very content. Whistle away, Captain Blood.

  ****

  Supper was un-notable, except that I'd underestimated the number of eggs Ryan could put away after tromping through the woods on a cold, early evening. To fill in the caloric gap, he got up and made more toast.

  I watched him.

  Ryan was at ease in the kitchen, just as he was in the woods. In fact, since I had known him, he seemed to be at ease in every circumstance, except for those first few stumbling, hung-over moments in the darkness of the armory. At ease. He was a man with nothing to prove to anybody; Ryan could handle himself. He didn't look for trouble, but didn't run from a fight if it was necessary. Being in his presence, I felt unbelievably safe. Yeah, all the meanings of that word. Even after just two short weeks, I already knew I could count on him. This was not a man who'd deceive me, steal from me, or abandon me. I could trust Ryan Hazzard.

  So, naturally, I teared up.

  "What's wrong?" He put down the bread and came to my side at the small table.

  "Nothing." I shook my head. "Just thinking."

  "About what?" He looked worried like he'd done something wrong and I guessed he was about to throw the apology flag.

  I shoved away tears with my knuckles and tried to smile. "About how much I like having you here, with me."

  Ryan knelt beside my chair, and for a really weird second I thought he was going to propose. Ha!

  "You're where I want to be," he said softly.

  The phrasing was unusual, but it warmed me all over. Tonight would be the night. I was certain. Was it rushing things to feel this way after knowing somebody for such a short while? At that point I didn't care. Ryan was the one I'd been waiting for and I'd waited a long, long time. Definitely tonight.

  There was an awkward moment when Ryan looked over his shoulder at me and I wondered if he was reading my mind. I surely wanted to know what was inside his. After all, it was he who'd made the comment about being there in the morning.

  So I watched him even more closely.

  ****

  After supper, Ryan sat on the right side of the couch, just far enough from the end that his injured arm wouldn't touch. He looked around my living space again. "Are you wanting to put up those decorations already?" He waved his iced tea glass vaguely toward the three small cartons, still dusty from the attic.

  "Oh, no. Too early. Not 'til after Thanksgiving." About two more weeks.

  "So what's in there? Standard lights and ornaments?"

  I knelt beside the boxes and looked for my markings. "Those two have ordinary stuff, but this one's special." I opened that particular box. "These are my snow globes."

  "Globes?"

  They were the only valuable items I'd kept through those austere years while I'd paid down the debts. "Not the chincy globes you see in chain stores. These are antiques. The houses and buildings and people… all look real. So does the snow." I handed him a village scene.

  "Cool. I guess I've seen pictures of real globes, but never actually held one." He passed it back.

  "Some of these older ones are from my Granny's collection. Of course, her whole set was divvied up among all the grandkids who wanted any." I remembered a globe I hadn't thought about recently. "You know, I have one in here with a ranch scene. Somewhere." I carefully unwrapped four more before I found the right one. "Here."

  Ryan's eyes were wide as he peered into the rustic setting of that globe. Then he shook it vigorously and watched the snow fall over the miniature tableau. It took a couple of minutes for all the swirls to settle. "That looks a bit like the ranch I grew up on." His eyes got watery. "Brings back a lot of memories. I can see why you love these." He handed it back. "You said your landlord owns some of that land back there?" Ryan pointed.

  I nodded. "Close to forty acres, I think, not even counting this house and a couple of others up the street."

  "Wonder if he might sell me an acre, out there near that pond somewhere." His expression suggested he'd already chosen a site. "You know, for my bunkhouse."

  I couldn't picture how Ryan would reach it, but — knowing that corsair — I guessed he'd have a narrow mile of gravel curving along the edge of the woods from the highway.

  "Along the whole front, I'd want a porch that looked out over the pond and towards those trees." For a new guy in town, Ryan worked pretty fast; he was already framing his bunkhouse on Mister Harold's property.

  I quickly joined Ryan's fantasy; however my mind modified his rustically plain structure into a modern cabin with typical creature comforts. "Does your bunkhouse have any heating system?"

  "Oh, yeah, big stone fireplace." He grinned. "To keep us warm… when you're over."

  During the moment I savored that plural pronoun, I also mentally selected just the right couch to face his hearth, so my feet wouldn't get cold.

  It seemed his mind had continued with bunkhouse construction, so I wrapped the ranch globe carefully and closed that box of decorations.

  Ryan just watched a bit before speaking. "Kris, when we were talking earlier about me kind of passing out on your couch last night, I don't know if I told you, I'm sorry I, uh…"

  "No need to…"

  "I mean, I wanted to stay here w
ith you, but I'd hoped I would be awake for it."

  I was speechless while I processed his words. It sounded like he meant he'd wanted to make a sincere move on me the previous night — much more than just embracing me.

  "I guess I drank more of that bourbon than I realized."

  "Well, it was medicinal."

  "Yeah, but maybe I drank a little more partly because I was also nervous." He shrugged until the arm pain obviously stopped him. Apparently he'd been trying to spit out that admission for some time.

  "Nervous?" It made me anxious to ask him why.

  Ryan smiled a bit sheepishly. "Like a school boy asking a cute girl for a date."

  I held my breath.

  "But more than a date, Kris."

  I finally exhaled. "How much more?" I already knew how much more I wanted. Just as Ryan seemed ready to show his cards, I noticed a red stain through his shirt sleeve — right side. "You'd better pull off that shirt before it's ruined." I pointed.

  "Huh?" He had not even realized his arm was bleeding again. Rather absent-mindedly — and like I wasn't even there — Ryan unbuttoned his western-styled shirt and eased it over the wound. His snug T-shirt was not even in the way, but he peeled it off anyhow, almost as though it was automatic: pull off one, pull off both. "Oh." He looked like he'd just snapped back from some daydream into the present. For a few seconds he looked slightly self-conscious. Then he peered at the blood oozing from his diagonal cut. "It might need a couple of new butterflies."

  I just nodded. This was my first time to see his entire upper torso completely bare. Shoulders were broader than they looked in clothing; chest was hairy, but not like a zoo animal. Upper arms more muscular than I had noticed before. I couldn't help staring… and I wanted to touch. I wondered where his tickle zone ended, and my mind was ablaze with possibilities.

  Ryan just watched my face as I analyzed his body; he obviously knew the gist of my appraisal.

  "Uh, I left out all the medical stuff. Come over to the kitchen."

  My first aid didn't take very long that time, and we didn't involve any bourbon. Whatever else was — or was not — going to happen, I wanted my pirate to be awake for it.