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I was too busy thinking about said muscles and past injuries and artwork to be sure, but I thought I heard another growling noise as I stood there in the doorway.
“Sorry if I woke you. I, ah… I took a shower,” I told him dumbly. As though the towel and wet hair weren’t proof of the fact. “I don’t… I have nothing to wear,” I explained as he stared at me. Something in his eyes made my skin feel a little warm.
It seemed to be in slow motion when he finally reacted, folding up in bed, each muscle tensing as he did so, then swinging his legs off the side of the bed with a grace someone his size shouldn’t possess. He moved around his bed, brushing past me, the cool air as he did so making a small shiver move through me, something he seemed not to notice as he went to his dresser, digging through to produce one of those giant long-sleeve plaid shirts of his.
“Cold at night still,” he explained, going into another drawer to grab socks. “Not a chance my pants are gonna fit you,” he added, turning back to face me as he approached.
“This should be fine,” I told him, reaching outward as he didn’t extend the pile toward me, my hand pressing over his, something that made his gaze jerk up to mine, deep, penetrative. “Thank you,” I added.
“Since you’re staying, I am gonna have one of my coworkers make a trip down with some supplies. We’ll get you some of your own pants.” At the moment, it didn’t strike me as odd that he didn’t mention my own shirts. “Until then, you need anything,” he said, taking an oddly pointed step back, like he wanted space, like he didn’t want to be close to me, momentarily making me wonder if I hadn’t washed hard enough. But even as I thought it, I could smell the scent of his soap on my skin – an herbal blend that reminded me of rosemary and lavender from a bar that seemed to be made out of milk and did wonders for even my sensitive skin. “Just come in and take it,” he added, the words landing with a weird punch-like sensation to my lower belly before he turned and stalked away, climbing into bed, dismissing me.
“Thanks again,” I told him, even though he wasn’t even looking my way anymore.
Walking back into the bathroom, I slipped into the blue and grey flannel, slid on the cozy socks, and made my way out into the living room, wondering if I was supposed to be staying on the couch, or if I should take over the guest room.
But, I figured as I lay there with Captain curled by my feet, he would need that room if he ever had a client come again.
The idea of a third party in the mix filled me with an odd sort of dread, making me realize I didn’t want anything piercing this little sanctuary.
Which was absurd.
First, because it wasn’t even my place to think things. I was just crashing here. Just taking advantage of Ranger’s obvious weak spot for struggling people.
I couldn’t help but wonder as I tossed and turned what had led him to have that weakness. What had happened in his own life to make him understand pain to the point of suicide, how such a strong, steady man had ever felt that low, that weakened by his own mind, his own spirit.
It just went to show… you never know. What someone was going through. How such a stalwart seeming person could be crumbling inside.
All around me, the dogs – Captain included – had fallen into restful sleep. Snoring, whimpering, grumbling, one of the German Shepherds chasing something in his sleep so hard that the bed he was laying on started to move across the floor with his efforts.
Turning on my side, my gaze went to the fire, feeling an odd sort of comfort.
In this land, surrounded by all these wild things, living with a wild man.
It wasn’t a place I should have felt anything even akin to comfort, to security. Me, a self-confessed lover of the ‘finer’ things in life, who enjoyed plumbing and take-away and television.
It was so far from all the things that would have typically brought me any measure of peace.
But that was exactly what I felt in this little homey shack in the woods, a fire crackling, cackling as it danced, bringing me warmth, lending the smell of campfire to my hair as it slowly dried, body warmed by the sleep-heavy weight of a giant, loving dog, the sounds of wind and crickets the only source of noise.
Peaceful.
Maybe not deep down.
Not yet.
But it was a surface comfort, something that promised more of the same.
If I gave it time.
