“C’mon. It’s not pretty, but it’s safe.”
I locked up (like it really did that much good, right?) and trailed him over to his place. This time around, I noticed more of his furnishings. Either he hadn’t finished moving in or he didn’t own much. He was worse off than I was, if this room was anything to go by. He had a couple of stuffed chairs that looked like the ones Shep had used to have. Shep had probably left them behind, unable to afford moving them or housing them. An old wooden table—small, bistro size—was next to the kitchen with two beat-up wooden chairs, and the walls were empty of anything.
“You can sleep in here,” he said, and he led the way down the hall that mirrored the hall in my apartment. He pushed open the door, and I saw that his bedroom wasn’t any more furnished than the rest of his place. There was a mattress made up with a set of clean-looking sheets pushed up to the wall on the dingy, gray carpet. It was the same nondescript, need-to-end-its-tragic-existence carpet as I had in my room, on the opposite side of the wall.
There was no other furniture, though a built-in closet on an adjacent wall was open. It housed clothing folded in an organized fashion within a somewhat-dilapidated plywood shelving unit, making me suddenly wake up and question who this guy was and whether it was really a good idea to be spending the night here. Alone. What did I really know about him except that he was...freaking hot. And an amazing kisser. And, like, eye candy in his rough-looking boots and jeans, which outlined his muscular thighs just right.
Cut it out, Taylor! I gave myself a mental shake. But really, I couldn’t fault myself for feeling punch-drunk and vulnerable after such a long, emotional roller coaster of a day.
“Where are you going to sleep?” I asked, striving for casual, though I was beginning to feel nervous and fluttery.
He gave me a long, slow look with his green-gold eyes, a look that we held in silence. I think we were both remembering the passionate exchange from earlier, which created a whole new tension that I don’t think either one of us was ready to deal with.
“I’ll sleep on the floor in the second bedroom. Help yourself to a shirt if you need one,” he answered quietly. After another quiet moment, his lips firmed up into a tight line, and he briefly closed his eyes, like he needed to break our connection, and stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
I released a shaky breath.
Was this attraction normal? I didn’t even know the guy, but my body was doing its best to convince my brain it didn’t matter. Did that make me a slut? Who the hell was I becoming? It was like suddenly I didn’t recognize myself. In the last several years, I might have thought someone was attractive, but I didn’t get tingles just thinking about them. How could I be feeling all hot and bothered with this guy in the face of having had such a tragic day? Then again, at three in the morning, did anything have to make sense?
Absently, I wandered to the closet, trying to find my equilibrium again, and let my fingers feather along a few of Ryder’s T-shirts, thinking it strange that he had so little clothing, even for a guy. Grabbing one off the top, I shook it out. It said Señor Frog across the top and had a beer-drinking green critter grinning broadly on the front. It seemed that every guy owned this shirt in Southern California.
Though my usual preference would have been to sleep naked, I was feeling profoundly out of my comfort zone and out of control in general, what with everything that had happened in the last few days. I needed some form of protection. Not that a T-shirt would repel bullets or anything, but it did give me some measure of ease. I hated feeling vulnerable.
The sheets were cool and refreshing, with just a hint of his masculine scent still clinging to them. Shoving my face in the pillow didn’t help me capture any more of his essence, yet somehow it seemed I could sense him in the next room over, nothing specific or anything. His thoughts felt heavy and frustrated, which made my lips curl with a random thought.
Did guys really get achy balls?
Though it was probably fanciful and a trick of my imagination, covered in his shirt and with his sheets wrapped around me, I felt like I was surrounded by him. I felt safe.
With his sinewy, rugged image in mind, I dropped into sleep quickly and easily.
Chapter Five
I jogged through the forest feeling light, exhilarated, carefree and energized, like I could just keep going forever. The wind was cool, crisp and sweet smelling against my face, and I could hear the sounds of birds chirping and bugs buzzing about their business. It also seemed like I could take these superbig steps that carried me far quickly, which was fun to experiment with. One leap easily took me five feet and another took me twice that, making me laugh with my foolishness. Clear blue sky framed tall redwood trees, and dappled sunlight warmed my skin. Then there was that iridescent bloom that caught my eye. Hadn’t I seen one before? I couldn’t remember. The flower was lying innocently, pristinely, in the middle of the path, I paused to pick it up, already knowing it was going to be soft to the touch.
Energy hummed through the petals, giving off a feeling of warmth and comfort. A heavenly smell drifted teasingly toward my nose, and I couldn’t help but put my face to the bloom and inhale. A sudden image of a field full of these blooms flashed through my mind, a warm smile, soft blue eyes. Yesssss... whispered gently through my mind, and there was a feeling like a puzzle piece suddenly falling into place. A foreign feeling—contentment—touched me.
We all serve a purpose, Taylor. The words seemed to float on the wind, here and gone, but they left behind a warmth and security I could embrace. I had a purpose.
How lovely.
Still holding the treasured flower, I skipped with all lightheartedness along the path. I was going somewhere, so there had been a purpose to my running, though I wasn’t sure what it was just yet. I was getting close, though. I could sense it. I felt the pull of a familiar energy source.
The woods opened up on a lake that was glassy and tranquil and nearly a mile wide. Tufts of springy clouds dotted the blue sky here and there. The most beautiful part of the picture was the reflection on the surface of the water; there was a mirror image of the forest and mountain on the opposite side of the lake from where I was standing. An amazing detail I caught? There was a reflection of a large moon and a smaller moon in the water, which seemed eerie and otherworldly because it was a beautiful, bright sunny day. I looked up and there they were, right beside the sun.
All I could do was stare in awe.
There was the sound of a large splash, and the glassy water suddenly rippled. I became aware of young men laughing and turned to see a pair of older teenagers swinging from a homemade rope swing over the lake, about twenty yards down the embankment. In a stand of trees that were old, large and bent like grizzled men, fat limbs sprang up, and it was to one of these that the swing was tied.
She wants you, Rye. And she’s got a nice round pair. Maybe she’ll let you play with them a little. The blond boy doing the teasing was swinging back and forth, building up momentum and height.
Shut up, Nick. The dark-haired boy grinned good naturedly. I could see his features and was momentarily transfixed, trying to figure out how I knew him. He was tall, with wiry muscles and a face that hadn’t yet filled into manhood. His skin was sun bronzed, and only a few black chest hairs were scattered across his pectorals.
Oh, Ryder, you’re so strong. Oh, Ryder, you’re so handsome. Kiss me! The blond boy, Nick, used a horrid, high-pitched voice to mimic a female and dove off the swing into the water.