Gone Wild (13 page)

"I want you to take this." He held a small handgun up in the air. It was the one he'd taught me how to use. My eyes refused to blink as he laid the weapon on the table next to me. "You're in charge," he said, his jaw set and his eyes serious and intense. "You have no reason to feel unsafe. This is your mountain."

I looked at him in surprise. That last statement had caught me off guard. He nodded to assure me he hadn't misspoken.

*

Adam walked me to my cabin without saying a word. The sound of our breathing and our sneakers hitting the worn dirt path mingled with the nature noises. Even though we didn’t speak, the excitement between us was palpable. We kept sharing silly grins.

As we came into the clearing in front of my cabin, I thought of that first day
I had arrived here so full of anticipation and optimism about the summer. Now the cabin that held all of my belongings seemed so foreign. It felt odd to be approaching it, and I sensed a familiar habit begging to be remembered—I wanted to resist because it was uncomfortable, but I knew I had to push down all the hesitation and just do it. I had to walk into my cabin and reclaim my independence.

"I'll pick you up at seven." Adam smiled at me and stared at me for a secon
d longer than he needed to, long enough to make me smile in excited flattery. "I'll wait until you get inside," he added. "Lock the dead bolt."

"Would you mind walking in with me, taking a look around before you go?"

"I can do that."

I loved his grin. I couldn't not smile back. His shadow blocked the sunlight from my back as I slid my key into the lock and entered the main living area. It was exactly as I remembered it
—light and airy, relaxing and peaceful. I’d left books open, pages down on the counter. The place looked lived in, pleasantly cluttered. All the little details and personal things were mine, so the overall feeling I had was not fear as I thought, but instead a sense of coming home. I sighed and plopped in the big comfortable chair, laying my head back to look at the high wood beam ceilings. An afghan was hanging over the back of the chair and I pulled it over me and cuddled in.

Adam walked out of the bedroom with an easy look on his face. "All clear," he said. "Windows are locked. Closets are empty.
Lock the door when I leave. I'll be back soon." He looked down at my bare legs that were sticking out from the bottom of my covers. "I can't wait."

"I'm looking forward to it
too," I told him. And then I said one of those things that you say without thinking and then regret and then dwell on for way too long afterward. I said, "Maybe we can figure out what's wrong with each other."

“I don’t think anything is wrong with us,” he said.

“No? Then why did we come here? Everyone else is fine out there.”

“I think it’s because our eyes were opened and now we can’t forget what we’ve seen.” He waited a minute and then let himself out.

I dead bolted the door behind him, thinking about his answer. I tinkered around in the kitchen, made myself some tea, and then took a long, hot shower, spending too much time under the hot water simply because I could.

I dressed in
a clean pair of cut-offs and a simple tank top, but did my hair and make-up as if I were going somewhere amazing. I slipped on the ballet flats I hadn't worn since the day I drove out here and waited impatiently on the couch.

I'd laid the gun on the counter and it caught my eye as it gleamed in a ray of light coming from the window
. The sight of it made my breath catch. In some ways I felt like just having it here was an invitation for something bad to happen.

I stood
, walked over to the counter, and stared down at the weapon. I ran my finger over the metal where the sun hit it, where it was warm like a living thing. It was strange how something so small could contain so much power. It was scary, too, what having to have it represented—that the world wasn't safe. I opened the drawer below the counter and stuffed the gun in between some dishrags and measuring tape. I shut the drawer tight.

I didn't want to think about it.

*

At a few minutes after seven, I heard a noise I couldn't quite place at first bec
ause it had been so long, but then it registered. A vehicle was running nearby. I heard it shut off and I stared out the window in the direction I thought it to be in. A few minutes later, I saw something amazing walking into the clearing and my mouth dropped open. I rushed to the door, throwing it open because I wanted to get the visual without the barrier of glass in my way.

Adam stepped onto the porch with a
gorgeous grin on his clean-shaven beautiful face. He had dimples and a tiny red scar on his cheek. He seemed almost bashful.

"Wow," I said.

"I told you I had to get ready."

"Yeah, but,
" I let my eyes roam down the front of him. He was wearing a stylish black suit with a white crisp fitted shirt. His hair was perfectly messy. "You took my breath away."

"Mission accomplished. The feeling is mutual." I snort-laughed unattractively and looked down at
my casual clothes. I felt ridiculous next to him.

"We're stopping somewhere so I can get a dress, right?"

"I did promise." He nodded as if to assure me that a promise from him was a solid thing I could rely on.

"Yes, you did,
" I said, picking up a jacket and a purse and throwing a couple last minute things inside. I followed him out the door, unable to take my eyes from his transformed appearance.

12

Adam was a cautious driver. His eyes always seemed to be scanning the road and
both sides of it. He used his signals consistently and didn't cut anybody off or make unsafe lane changes. I guess it all made sense given the experience he'd had with his mom and sister. He looked a little awkward behind the wheel as if he wasn't comfortable there, and that also made sense. I didn't realize I was staring at him across the wide bench seat of his pick-up until he turned to me and smiled.

"W
hat is it?" he asked. "You’re deep in thought."

"Just taking it all in." I was embarrassed at having been caught star
ing. I turned my gaze to my own window and watched the never-ending tree-top carpet that stretched on into the horizon. I couldn't resist turning back once, and I found him still staring at me. "Eyes on the road," I said, and he followed my order with a huge grin. We rode in companionable silence for a while, the sound of tires covering road lulling me into a relaxed state. He hadn't turned the radio on and I wondered if he was trying to avoid hearing any special reports.

He took an exit and I sat up taller trying to get an idea of the town we were entering. Fast food restaurants, shopping centers, and signs for a mall dotted the boulevard. It seemed like we were in a huge shopping mecca in the middle of nowhere.

Some of the designer names on the shop fronts we were passing suggested the kind of clothes we'd find here would be way out my price range. As if reading my mind, Adam cleared his throat and spoke, "This whole night is on me—including the dress. Get shoes, jewelry, whatever you want."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You better watch yourself making offers like that. Some girl is going to rake you through the coals."

He chuckled. "Been there. I'm not worried about that with you. You've got a good soul."

He pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall made up of elegant storefronts. The whole strip of stores seemed to be dedicated to high-end women's fashion and the ladies who crossed the parking lot and entered the buildings were the kind who graced magazine
covers and gossip sites: coiffed hair, flawless makeup, tailored clothes, and extremely elevated footwear.

My gaze swept over the dus
ty, dull hood of Adam's truck on its way to the shiny Lexuses and Mercedes. I had the sudden realization that I was a pick-up truck among all the luxury cars in this shopping complex, maybe in the world. I looked over at Adam.

"I don't think I can shop here," I said.

He shut off the vehicle and looked at me confused. "Why?"

How c
ould I tell him that I usually bought my clothes at JC Penney and Old Navy? "Look at me," I said without too much explanation, a simple wave of my hand over my body. I hoped he understood.

He took the opportunity
—and I couldn't argue because the truck was in park and I
had
told him to look at me. He scanned me from bottom to top and top to bottom so slowly that I could practically hear the Jeopardy music playing in my head. "I'd be happy to take you to the restaurant dressed as you are."

I snorted and folded my hands in my lap. I stared down at them.

He ducked down so he could catch my eye. "They're just clothes," he said, "the uniforms we must wear in order to fine dine. The clothes are part of the whole dining experience I’m told. Dressing well makes it an escapade, not just a meal. Usually, I get my food to go and eat it in the truck, but I've always wanted to eat in, see if there is any truth to the ambiance making the meal."

I don't know if he underst
ood my hesitation completely, but he was distracting me from my inferiority complex. Feeling like this trip was more about him having a companion to go with to his favorite restaurant made me feel less weird about it.

"They're just clothes," he said, "and the people wearing them are just people."

We watched some of those people on the sidewalks in front of us.

"You're coming in with me, right?"

"Of course."

"Okay.
" If a hot guy in a trendy suit came with me, I wouldn’t feel like I didn't fit in so much.

"Then let's go." He opened his door and got out. I went to open my door, but I noticed he kept his eye on me and was walking around to my side of the truck so I waited. He opened my door and held out his hand, helping me jump down from the seat.

"No heels," I said. "I don't even want to think about jumping down from that truck in heels."

He laughed. "Fair enough."

We picked which store to enter based on the fact that I liked the dresses in the window. I'd never heard of the name hand painted on the driftwood sign out front. The saleswoman inside was kind and didn't bat an eyelash at my current attire. She kept eye contact with me, and I started to think she hadn't even noticed what I was wearing—or else she was consciously avoiding it. Adam looked at all of the options with me, but never told me if he had any preference, just deferred to me.

I looked for a price tag on one dress that I liked and he leaned over and whispered. "These kinds of places never use price tags. I took you here on purpose. I didn't want you choosing a dress because it was on sale or something." He shot me a knowing look.

I looked at him in disbelief. How did he know me so well? With a humph, I took the dress into the fitting room, slipped it on, and turned to the mirror. I stopped breathing. I never believed that clothes made the woman. I always thought an attractive person was good-looking whether they wore a potato sack or an expensive dress, but my reflection proved me wrong.

The girl—
no, the woman—in the mirror was not me. She was the slick, professional executive I’d imagined I’d be one day. She was one of those women I watched walk through the parking lot. I turned to the side to check out my profile. My curves looked curvier, my waist, thinner. "This is the one," I said without thinking, and I then realized that Adam and the saleswoman were right outside and could hear me.

"Already?" the woman exclaimed.

"Can we see?" Adam asked.

I smoothed the dress down my front and walked out of the dressing room. Adam smiled as his eyes traced me from head to toe.
I reveled in his expression. I loved how I looked in the dress, but he was struck speechless by it, his mouth open slightly for a moment before he shook his head, licked his lips, and smiled as a deep blush came over his cheeks.

The saleswoman brought her hands up to cover her mouth. "I can't argue with you," she said. "It's as if that dress were made for you. It brings out your eyes and it doesn't need any altering at all!"

Adam directed the woman to put it on his card and then waved me over to an area of the store that held accessories. After a little arguing, he agreed that I didn't have to buy shoes or jewelry if I didn't want to, but that he was perfectly willing to pay for it if it would help me feel more at ease. Before leaving, he stopped at the register to collect his card and a shopping bag.

"What's in there?" I asked, afraid he bought me more when I was sidetracked.

"The clothes you wore here today," the saleswoman explained, "and a few cards because I do hope you'll return." She had me convinced I was as important and wanted as every other customer who came in here. She was good.

The restaur
ant was in a small town that didn't seem to have much else to recommend it. We'd driven quite a ways from the mountain, but we were still in a green place that didn't seem like a natural habitat for a five-star restaurant, and yet that's what it was. I'd never had another meal like it—not even at Adam's cabin. Maybe he was right in his explanation that clothes and atmosphere could make a meal because the whole night certainly felt otherworldly.