Hitchhiker (9 page)

“Busy. Another buyer requested a large shipment so we had to hike it up the side of a mountain to mark a section of trees that will be coming down tomorrow.” He dipped his food in a large dollop of dressing and shoved as much in his mouth that he could. Ranch was on both corners of his lips and I gripped the edge of my chair to keep from leaning forward and licking it off. “How was your day?” he asked around his food.

Good Lord, he was tempting me. And this was hands down the most he’d ever said to me in one sitting. “Uhhh . . . good?” I formed it into a question.

“Just good?”

“Mmmhmm.” Good Lord. Form a damn sentence, Chandler.

“You stay busy?”

“I suppose so.”

His brow rose skeptically. “What do you do here all day by yourself?”

Was he genuinely interested or just being nice? “Well, I’ve been trying to catch up on my reading list. And I also did some cleaning. Why?”

He shook his head. “Just asking.”

It got quiet as we both sat and chewed our food. I totally expected him to get up from the table when he finished eating, but he took me by surprise yet again and asked me another question.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

I reached forward and grabbed my water, taking a massive gulp to wash down the pizza that had lodged itself in my throat. “Like what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything.”

“My favorite color is green.” I looked down and bit my lip, trying not to smile.

“And clearly you are a bit of joker.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Sometimes, yes.”

“What else?”

“What else what?”

“Tell me more. Where did you travel from? How long will you be here? Are you married or have any kids?”

I jerked my head up at him. “That’s a lot of personal questions, Dawson . . . I don’t know your last name.”

“Michael,” he answered without skipping a beat.

Cataloged that little bit of info away for later. “That was a lot of personal questions, Dawson Michael.”

He sat back and folded his arms. “So what?”

“So what? I wasn’t allowed to ask you anything just a couple of days ago, and yet you can ask me whatever you want? A bit of a double standard, if you ask me.”

“It’s different.”

I small laugh escaped my mouth. “Yeah, how’s that?”

“Just is. Answer my questions.”

For the umpteenth time, I felt the innate urge to give in to him. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my plate back and exhaled. “No, I’m not married. I have no children. And I live in Maine. Now can I ask you a question?”

“Depends.”

I scoffed. “On what?”

“The question.”

Okay, now I was getting annoyed. “Why Big Sky?”

“I hadn’t planned on stopping here, but this was the direction you were headed, so I came with.”

“Then how did you know to talk to Mr. Newman for a job?”

“I didn’t. I went into the video store and asked if they knew anybody who was hiring; he just so happened to be standing there.”

“So, you planned on staying in Big Sky then?”

“For a bit, yeah.”

“Why?”

His eyes hardened, and I could see the wall going back up. “Question and answer session is officially over.” He got up from the table and threw away his plate. I sat in my chair with my hands in my lap silently watching him. I expected him to leave the kitchen and go to his room like he did every night, but he paused. “I wish I knew why you were sad.”

“Excuse me?”

The way he was looking at me made me feel like I was naked and on display. “Just an observation. ‘Night, Chandler.”

I was left totally dumbfounded and exposed. Crocodile tears formed in my eyes and I tried my best to swallow them back. He couldn’t possibly know that I was sad. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t anything. Actually, no. I was mad. Mad that he thought he could read me. Well, sorry to burst your bubble, Dawson, but you were wrong. I was empty. Pushing away from the table, I left everything where it was. I’d clean it in the morning. I just wanted a hot shower and sleep.

I was out cold when I woke up to the feel of the mattress dipping behind me. My eyes flew open and I rolled over to see what it was.

“Shhh, it’s just me.”

Dawson was in my room and crawling into my bed.

“What on Earth are you doing?” I screeched, drawing the sheet up to my chest.

He lifted the covers and tucked himself in beside me. My heart was pounding from waking up so abruptly, but now it was thrumming for an entirely different reason. An exceptionally good-looking man was in bed with me, without his shirt, and the moonlight was casting a perfect glow across his skin.

“I said no more questions.” Dawson’s voice was gritty, as if he had just woke up from a dead sleep. “Now, come here.”

His hand slipped over my stomach and gripped my waist. He gave a tug and drew me into his side. I was lying flat on my back, and we were staring each other down. Every single muscle in my body was tense. I’d not been next to another man, other than Seth, in years. This was completely foreign and unfamiliar. None of this made sense. Was I still dreaming? And why did I let him just touch me like that? Even more, why did it feel so good when it was such a simple touch?

“I’m confused.”

He lifted his head slightly so that he was peering down at me. He released my hip and used his fingers to brush away an errant hair that was across my forehead. Tucking it behind my ear he said, “I want to know why you look like you do. For the past week, I’ve been walking into a house with a woman who seems more lost than I am. How is that even possible?”

It wasn’t a rhetorical question. He looked melancholy. I couldn’t take my eyes away from his. He was holding me in more ways than one. It scared me that he let himself in here, as if there were no boundaries. Plus, I had no clue why he even cared. I wanted nothing more than to push him off me and tell him to leave me alone. I didn’t want to be seen that way. And by the same token, I wanted to pull him closer to me and beg him to hold me—even if it were just for one night. I’d never let someone I didn’t know into my bed. Confused was an understatement. My thoughts were flying around like a damn tornado, and my emotions were being rocked with debris.

“I don’t understand any of this, Dawson. Who are you?” I whispered, tears prevalent in the corners of my eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. I just know that I don’t think I can go another day seeing you walking around looking so defeated.”

A sob bubbled up. “I didn’t know you cared.”

He shrugged. “I care. Now more sadness tonight. Tonight we just sleep knowing neither of us is alone. Tomorrow we can go back to the way it was.”

My chest shook as I tried to pull back the tears that were sweeping down my cheeks. God, that sounded nice. However odd it might be to anybody else, I felt safe at this moment. I desperately wanted to sink into the warmth he was offering, and to let it all go, just for one night. I needed sleep. And yet he didn’t even realize he was part of the reason sleep had been evading me. I wanted more than just to nod off with him. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to feel him everywhere. There was a low undercurrent of desire buzzing through me, but I couldn’t act on it. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t. He frightened me. I would never attempt any moves toward a man who looked and acted like he did. I was not an aggressor. And as much as I was craving to know what it felt like to be touched by him, there was no way I could cheat on Seth. Not now, not ever. It was not who I was.

I couldn’t stay laying like this. I could handle feeling him, but I couldn’t handle keeping my eyes open and seeing him at the same time. My senses were already on overload. Rolling over to my side, I faced the bathroom and scooted back into him. This was my version of bravery. He moved in a couple of inches until his body was flush with my back. So, this was spooning, I thought to myself. Seth never cuddled with me. He always said he got too hot and couldn’t stand any body parts touching. Clearly, he was missing out. This felt amazing. Dawson’s larger size nearly engulfed my own. His arm came around my side and rested with his palm flat on my stomach. That low buzz I had felt before was now like an electric charge pulsing through my system.

“Breathe, Chandler.” Dawson spoke near my ear.

Closing my eyes, I sighed. “I’m breathing.”

He chuckled and I felt the rumble against my back. “No, you’re not. You’re wound tight. Breathe.”

He said nothing else the remainder of the night. I knew he had fallen asleep when his arm became limp and heavy and when a soft snore reverberated from his chest. Me, on the other hand—my eyes were wide open and looking at everything on this side of the room. I didn’t think I was going to be able to pass out. I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay awake for as long as I could so I could memorize every snore, every breath, every second that I was actually feeling something more. I wanted to roll over so I could watch him sleep, but I didn’t want to move from the exact position that I was in. I was afraid that if I did, this perfect little bubble would pop and Dawson would go back to his room. Instead, I held perfectly still and continued to catalog these memories. I never knew when I’d need to pull them out again to remind myself that I was still alive.

The next morning, I woke up to a cold and empty bed beside me. Dawson must’ve gotten up for work and left. I sat up and looked at the clock. It was just after ten. Geez, I hadn’t slept this good in almost a year. I stared up at the ceiling, thinking about last night and how it felt in the arms of a stranger. I tried to pick apart and analyze why the feel of him felt so natural. I wanted to know what drew me to him. It was more than just the lure of good looks and sexual need. Something about his very essence drew me in and called to my soul. In the short time I’d been around him, I’d had more emotion bubble to the surface than Seth plucked from me in three years. It was very disconcerting. Nobody should be able to do that. Not when you know so little, and not when you’re supposed to be invested in someone else. Dawson was making my head spin. Last night was something I think I needed but didn’t realize it. His words played around in my head. He said I was lost. Was I lost? Yes, I think I was, but he shouldn’t be able to see me like that. I had on a mask for everyone else, and yet he saw underneath it. I didn’t consider it a good thing.

TURNED OUT, OUR ONE NIGHT
of keeping each other company wound up being an every night occurrence thereafter. Dawson would come in about an hour after I’d gone to bed, and we’d lay there talking about little things. Things that didn’t really matter and things that I got the feeling he didn’t tell too many people. For example, I found out he used to play football in high school. He was the star player. He was supposed to go to college on scholarship, but he was hurt during practice and lost it all. He also carried a lot on his shoulders. He took care of his family, albeit he didn’t go into detail. He wanted to have kids someday, and he wanted to get married.

All of the things he shared with me made me feel like I was special. Like he was particular about the bits and pieces he divulged. I got the feeling he didn’t open up to just anybody. For whatever reason, when he told me something about himself, I listened more intently than if he were Seth, Sydney, or anybody else I’d been close with. I wanted to know things about him. I craved knowledge about his life. On this particular night, we were laying side by side, facing one another. I’d just finished telling him about the trips I’d taken during the summer months to my grandparents’ house. Although I’d left out the bit about it being here. It got quiet, and I stared into his dark brown eyes. I’d just started getting used to feeling so exposed around him, knowing that he could read people easily. Call it a sixth sense, but he knew a person in the first ten minutes of talking to them. Baffled me.

Dawson had smiled at me before he rolled over to his other side, ending the conversation for the night. He did this often. Unless he gave my arm a tug, which told me to curl into him. I was looking at his back and I swore I could feel the itching in my fingertips. I desperately wanted to reach up and trace the pattern of the tattoo on his back. It was a cross with a man’s name underneath it. Same last name as his. I could only assume the name was his grandfather or father. Fortitude filled me, and I did what I thought I couldn’t.