Page 3 of His Hostage

I don’t know what else to say. I don’t have anything in common with a guy like him. He reaches up and grabs the top panel of wood, and I can’t help but notice his biceps. They’re huge. I look away, feeling annoyed he’s accosted me like this.

“There we go,” he yells. “Finally. A response. Weather’s been really nice these past few weeks. Why haven’t you been running lately?”

Fuck. Now I’m in a full blown conversation with the guy.

He swings off his porch and lands into the dirt. He’s wearing spurred cowboy boots and a tight pair of jeans that hug his butt. Leather, dust, and denim cause my mind to race.

I’m not accustomed to people like him. I’m used to lace, silk, and pearls. I thought the desert would be cacti and creosote. I was told all the cowboys have gone and left.

Guess not.

I dig my heels into the dry earth. “Do I need to explain my running habits to everyone in a 10 mile radiance?” I ask.

He gets to the edge of my porch, and he leans against my wood paneling now. He stays below the stairs, but I start to get a little worried. Is this guy going to invite himself in?

“Nah. You don’t need to explain anything to a guy like me,” he sighs. “I mean, you look good as it is. I was just wondering, is all. I don’t get much action nowadays. The middle of the desert isn’t an amazing place to meet new people.”

Just leave me alone, dammit. I was never good at shooing people away, but ever since the divorce, I’ve been pretty good at swearing people off.

“Look, I don’t know who you’re trying to impress with the whole cowboy and no shirt routine,” I start, “but I’m married. And very happy. So, if you could take it back a few yards, that’d be great.”

Very happy. Right.

“Whoa,” he laughs. “Look, lady. I was just being a friendly neighbor. I thought I’d introduce myself, but—”

“You thought wrong,” I interrupt him.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. My marriage has put me a little on edge. I shouldn’t say everything that’s on my mind, but I really don’t want a repeat of last time.

I need to stay away from my temptations. But I have to admit to myself, his body is as frightening as it is tempting.

“I came out here for peace and quiet,” I tell him. “I didn’t want to get interrupted and harassed every morning.”

A sly smile. “Suit yourself, woman.”

Great, he’s a sexist now too. He throws his hands up and turns back to his place.

“Do you always talk to women like that?” I ask.

He laughs. “Lady, you’re out of your damn mind,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave you to your knitting. Or whatever it is you do here. In case you’re just getting ahead of yourself, the name’s Rowan. ”

He walks back to his porch, lights up a cigarette, and walks inside.

I want to hate him, but damn, he does have a nice butt…

3

Rowan

That woman is like a firecracker waiting to explode.

She’s a fucking volcano. Did she really call me a cowboy? Me? Jesus, people are rude.

I don’t blame her. I’m not exactly the type of guy you write home to your mother about. Still, I’m not asking for her hand in marriage. I’m just looking for a good time, or a few. That is, if she lets me.

Truth is, once she opened her mouth, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away. She’s got enough fire to start up any engine.

So, no, I’m not going to stay away from her. I’m going to be sitting outside every damn morning. Each day, she’s going to have to deal with me.

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