^^ Stranger above

Chapter 12

I sat with my back to the wall and watched the hill he'd disappeared over through heavy eyes. Minutes turned to hours until I doubted he'd be back. That should have been a blessing, but the blood had soaked through the bandana over an hour before, and no amount of pressure seemed to be enough to stop it. Not to mention, sleep wasn't an option when I knew a strange man planned to come find me.

When he finally crested the hill and scuffled down the slope, my heart jolted against my rib cage. I hobbled to my feet, stepped just out from under the bridge and slid back down with my back against the wall. The whole while, trying to feign interest in somewhere other than him.

I looked up, and his eyes locked with mine as if they'd been waiting to do so. He held a metal container, the words first aid printed in red across its surface. It rattled as it hit the ground by my feet, and he lowered himself cross legged in front of me. "I checked back in at the bar." His voice was low, back to smooth. He opened the case, then reached out and took my hand without asking. His lips pursed when his fingers made contact with the wet fabric, and he shook his head at the wound. "The men were on vacation." His eyes met mine. "Doctors and lawyers looking for freedom."

I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

He watched my reaction as if reading the pages of a book, then held my hand out to the side and poured a heavy stream of alcohol over it.

I grit my teeth. Mother fucker, that stings.

"You're either very tough," he paused to close the bottle and put it back, then pull out a pack of gauze and a threaded needle. "Or you're used to pain." He looked at me, probing, searching.

"It's a mystery."

"It is." He poised the point at the top of the cut, then met my gaze as of checking for permission.

I rolled my eyes. "It's not like the needle will surprise me. I hadn't expected you to heal it with magic."

His lip twitched, the slightest of movements on his otherwise stoic face. He pushed the needle in and laced it through to the other side.

I looked away, off into the distance. I focused on the lights still twinkling down Main Street, the occasional passing headlight above the hill.

"Will you come back to the bar," he asked after a lengthy silence.

"Not a chance in hell." I looked back at him. "It was stupid for me to go in there in the first place."

He nodded, still focused on his task. His fingers moved with precision, too nimble given their thick, work-worn appearance.

I watched him do three more stitches as shock arrived to numb the sting. "I guess this is goodbye then, Captain Wilderness."

He looked up at me. "The bar will be far less exciting without you in it."

I snorted. "It didn't look exciting before, and the only thing exciting about me is the danger I bring."

His eyes sharpened. "And what danger is that, Tequila?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "That is none of your business, and Tequila is not my name. Why do you keep calling me that?"

He grinned. "I like you when you drink tequila." He leaned forward, cut those dark eyes up at me. "I get to see a little bit of what you hide."

"Is that so?" More flutters in my chest. They weren't butterflies. Butterflies were too innocent. Too sweet. No. My heart had obviously grown arms and legs, and that's the feeling of it beating away at my ribs, warning me, screaming at me to get the fuck up and walk far far away.

He leaned back and finished the last stitch, then sat the needle back in the box and looked at me. "Yes." He reached inside his coat and pulled out a bottle.

My tequila.

"I thought you couldn't take it to go."

He popped the top and took a drink, then passed it over to me. "That's the thing about rules. You can always break them." He tilted his head and watched as I took a much needed pull from the bottle. "I'm thinking it taste better to go."

I swallowed hard and handed it back to him. "Meaning?"

He took a drink, then sat it down. His gaze drifted, unashamed and unhindered. It tracked a line down my frame, along every curve, and in that moment, I felt exposed in a much different way. "You're like a puzzle I've halfway put together," he murmured, voice deeper than before. His eyes met mine, and the heat in his gaze almost melted me. "I can't get you out of my head, but I don't want to. Trying to figure you out makes all the shit I drink to forget fade away."

I stared at him, wishing he'd pass the bottle already. My throat felt dry. I needed a drink, a long one. My heart was running as if the cops were chasing it, and I was hyper aware of an ache forming in a much too sensitive area. He was a dangerous man. Very, very dangerous. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but all I wanted to do was have him. Take him. Unwrap the offending fabric covering those broad shoulders and see what I knew had to be a god beneath. It was the lowest thing on my list of good ideas, and the first on my list of bad ones.

Dark eyes. Perfect face. The man oozed sin. If he made one move, said one more thing, I'd lose. I'd take what he offered. I'd grasp the temporary escape and leap over the cliff into the abyss.

I couldn't let that happen.

I pulled my booted foot back and kicked him as hard as possible in the knee.

"Shit!" He gripped hold of it with one hand. "What the hell was..." He scrambled back as I moved to repeat the action, then stared at me with piercing eyes.

"I'm not the one," I growled. "You take your bullshit somewhere else. I've had enough fucking men to know better."

The anger left his eyes, and they once again went back to probing. "So, it's a man. An ex?"

I glared at him. "Give me my tequila and go away."

He pulled his legs back to crossed, only now with enough distance I couldn't reach him. One hand swung out and snatched the bottle from the ground, only to take a long, pointed drink. "This is my bottle now."

"Fuck off!" I kicked again, but he moved too fast when I extended my reach.

His lip twitched. "Is this supposed to put me off? Because I kind of like it."

"If you like this, you should wait until I punch you in the face. That should really get you going."

He laughed. Fuck, if he didn't laugh. His mouth opened wide, perfectly straight white teeth on full display, and the sound that left his chest was deep, masculine, and hands down the most appealing thing I'd ever heard. He shook his head. "Fine." He pulled himself to his feet and extended the bottle down to me.

I took it warily.

He grabbed the first aid kit. "I'll bring some more tomorrow," he said as if I'd welcome him. "I'll wear knee pads next time." He shook his head and rumbled another laugh as he walked away.

An unwelcome warmth filled my chest, and I took another long drink to try and squash it. "Fuck you," I murmured to his retreating back, but I couldn't help but feel like I'd already tipped over some precipice. I wasn't falling... yet. But the branch I held couldn't have been more than a twig, and the jagged rocks beneath were looking more and more tempting.

I uploaded the earliest draft of this for comedic purposes 😂😂 It's called The Love of Piracy. It won't be completed ever, but it might be fun for you all to see how novels progress through drafting.

Hope you enjoyed! Next upload tomorrow, double if you rain down the love in my comments section and hit that star! ❤️❤️🤗🤗