Bear With Me (Woodland Creek) Page 2

  The woman gasps behind me and I do my best to ignore as I worry over whether or not to push off my one and only math class until next semester. I don’t want to overload myself, but what the hell. I have nothing better to do, so I add it to my list with the journalism elective and general biology.

  While the list is printing for my records, I gather my purse and cell up from the desk. A weight eases from my chest now that I’ve got some sort of goals to work toward. Something to keep me busy.

  I’m so distracted by the thought of a new start that I accidentally let my fingers brush the woman’s as I hand her the registration form. When our fingers make contact, I can’t help my sudden gasp. In an instant it goes from mid-afternoon to evening. The low moans I’d been hearing increase in volume as the scene before me materializes.

  The couple doesn’t notice me, which is probably a good thing considering how wrapped up in each other they are. My breath catches in my throat and a flush spreads over my body. He’s got her pinned against the counter, his hands delving beneath the material of her shirt.

  She moans and so do I, and damn if I can’t feel his fingers undoing the claps of my own bra. I go from zero to sixty in a couple seconds flat, bordering on an edge of a heatwave. I pull my hand back to grip something, anything, and the vision fades away, leaving me gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

  I manage to get myself under control, barely, and look up to find the two of them looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Caught between arousal and embarrassment, I squeak out a “Thank you” and then get the hell out of there.

  The fresh air does little to soothe the burn on my cheeks. I imagine that every person can feel the pulse beating low in my stomach. That they can see it on my face. There isn’t enough acreage on this lush campus to put enough distance between me and that scene.

  I stumble upon a little café in the center of campus and I order up a French vanilla cappuccino in the hopes that it will erase the pounding behind my eyes. Around me students are paired off into groups already and a haunting sense of loneliness grows in my stomach.

  With the scene I just witnessed fresh in my mind, I take extra care to keep my hands from brushing against anyone else. The last thing I need is someone else’s sex life taking up residence in my head.

  I weave through the crowd to an empty bistro table and plop down with a sound of relief. With registration finished, I finally have some control back in my life. I may not understand what’s happening to me or where I go from here about Nonna and Sam, but at least I have this. The coffee is exactly what I need and I groan through the first caffeinated sip.

  A pair of hands cover my eyes and a familiar voice says, “Guess who?” in my ear.

  “Really, Sam? Are we ten?”

  “Hey,” he responds, his eyes still on the ladies trolling around us, “I don’t know about you, but I find my childlike enthusiasm entertaining.”

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” But I can’t help the smile that spreads. “So what do you need? Are you ready to head back to Nonna’s?” There’s a good book and a comfortable bed with my name on it. I figure outside of classes I can read myself into a coma.

  Sam puts all four legs of the wrought iron chair down and manages to tear his attention away from the ladies. “So, you know you love me, right? Most times, I mean.”

  “Ye-e-s? Did you get into some kind of trouble already? Dammit, Sam.”

  He holds up a hand. “Wow, what a show of faith, I’m hurt Sully. Really hurt.”

  I roll my eyes. “What do you want?” And I’m so distracted I forget to be pissed about him calling me Sully.

  “Well there’s this thing tonight.”

  “Thing?”

  “This huge party they have every year. Some kind of summer festival. The whole town goes.”

  “So? What do you need me for?”

  “To protect me. The women here,” he looks off into the distance smiling fondly, “they’re animals.”

  “I think you can handle yourself.”

  “So you’re going to leave me to the wolves?”

  I take a drink so I can compose my answer. “I don’t know, Sam. We don’t know anyone here.”

  “That’s the point. I know you don’t want to talk about Mom and Dad, so I won’t, but you have got to get out of the house. Live a little. So I want you to go to this thing with me. Have a little fun. What could it hurt?”

  Sullivan

  The moment we arrive I can tell I sorely miscalculated this festival. Everyone else is in jeans and T-shirts while I hop out of the truck in a dress that Sam talked me into wearing. That’s the last time I’ll ever take his advice. I glare at him, but he doesn’t notice, not with a party going on, the social butterfly that he is.

  He looks back towards me for permission and I sigh, knowing that he won’t be able to stay glued by my side no matter how much I want him to. “Go ahead,” I tell him.

  Sam grins and for a moment the pain that’s a mirror of my own melts from his face. Seeing that, knowing that he hides his more easily than I do, I’m glad I decided to come with him. No one else but me can see the sadness that pulls the light from his eyes or the pallor his complexion has taken due to lack of sleep. Some of it, I put there and he doesn’t deserve that.

  I tilt my cheek up to receive his kiss. “I’ll see you later.” He backs away smiling.

  Then I’m left alone, but I put on a brave face. If he can do this, then so can I.

  From the way he described it, I thought this was supposed to be some sort of town fair of sorts. With vendors and bouncy houses. I was wrong.

  This is a college party complete with kegs, bonfires, and tailgates. Groups of beautiful looking people are bunched together clasping red plastic cups, their cheeks already ruddy with drink. No one seems to pay any mind to the growing darkness or the looming threat of rain.

  Sam has already found himself a group of girls to charm and based on his laugh, I made the right choice in coming with him. Seeing him happy lifts my spirits, so I slog across the field to the keg. I don’t plan on drinking much, if any, but I need something to keep my hands busy.

  Cup in hand, I navigate through the crowd, hoping to spot a kind face. Instead, I run smack into a group of rowdy frat guys whose eyes collectively brighten at my presence.

  “Oh,” one says, as the fire throws harsh shadows over his normally handsome face, “look what we have here.”

  I back away, but not before he puts his hands on my arm, his grip unescapable. I use my free hand to try and push him away. “Sorry, excuse me.”

  “Not so fast, there, sweetheart.”

  I’m in no way used to having the thoughts of others invade my mind, but I thought I’d grown accustomed enough that their innermost desires didn’t shock me anymore. The mundane, the obnoxious and everything in between. But I’d never experienced something as insidious as this guy’s thoughts.

  I recoil, jerking my hand roughly, probably bruising the flesh of my wrist, but I don’t care. Anything to get away from his touch. “Let me go.”

  When he doesn’t and his little friends make no effort to help me, I pull back my free arm and punch him square in the nose. The satisfying crunch causes him to drop his hold on me and I take a few relieved steps backward.

  So much for making friends here tonight.

  Thunder rumbles and the roar from the crowd brings back the pulsing behind my eyes. Beer still in hand, I ease my way back through the crush of people and take solace in the emptiness of the woods. The tension stringing me up tight loosens the moment I step beyond the trees.

  Running Deer National Park borders the town of Woodland Creek and from what I understand it’s huge. I make sure to keep the party in my sight and manage to find a cluster of rocks where I climb up and sit while sipping my beer.

  Twigs snap behind me and my spine straightens. I squint through the growing darkness. “Who’s there?” I ask, lifting a hand to my eyes and squinting.

  The shadows
shift and part to reveal the biggest man I’ve ever seen. The kind of man that sends a thrill of warning down my back. He’s dressed in jeans that have seen their fair share of toil. Definitely not the expensive designer ones that Sam prefers. A simple white t-shirt and flannel cover his broad shoulders, the sleeves are rolled up to reveal inked forearms sprinkled with dark hair. A beard frames his full lips and disappears into the beanie covering his head. Furls of ink peek out from the vee in his shirt and I wonder absently what the designs connect to.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice quiet and unassuming, though something tells me to keep my wits about me. I don’t know him and I’ve already had one bad experience tonight that I’d rather not repeat.

  I glance back towards the line of trees and note that they’re too far away for me to make a dash. He could catch me, if that’s what he wants. From the way his eyes follow me, studying, I get the feeling that he’s calculating every move and I have no doubt that he could snatch me up in seconds, even considering his bulk.

  “You didn’t scare me,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “Just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here. I figured everyone would all be up at the party.”

  He leans a big shoulder up against the trunk of a tree. “There are all kinds of things out in these woods, especially at night. You’d probably be best back over there with the rest of them.”

  Laughter trails through the thick brush and I spot the guy who grabbed me. I am unable to suppress a shudder at the memory—his memories. “I’m okay out here.”

  He straightens and moves to go, then pauses, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Heat unfurls low in my stomach and my breath hitches. I can feel his eyes on me like a predator waiting to stake claim on his prey.

  “I’m not going to lie to you, I saw him grab you and I followed you out here. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” He glances back at him, then raises an eyebrow at me. “Clearly you handled yourself.”

  I shrug and wrap my arms around myself against the bite of chill in the air. “I’ve got a twin brother so I’m fairly used to male stupidity.”

  The first drops of rain begin to fall and I shiver. I’m going to kill Sam for dragging me out here. I scan the crowds, but don’t see his familiar face, just a sea of unfamiliar ones.

  He takes a couple steps toward me, shrugging out of his flannel button up and laying it over my shoulders. A groan very nearly escapes from my lips, but I swallow it down. The warmth and scent of him wraps around me like a blanket. Having him so close to me causes the heat in my stomach to ignite.

  “I’m Declan,” he says, holding out a hand. It’s sexy, as far as hands go. Big palms and thick fingers. It looks harmless enough, but I know what secrets lie behind such a seemingly innocent touch.

  Even knowing there’s a horrible possibility in returning the gesture, I fit my much smaller hand in his. I brace myself for the onslaught and I nearly fall off of the rock when I see…nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  My eyes lift to his in shock and I forget to release his hand. I know there’s no way I’ve lost the gift so quickly, not when flashes of that jerk’s memories still surface every few seconds like a bad nightmare.

  “Gonna tell me yours?” he asks and at first I think he’s talking about my secrets.

  When I realize he means my name, and I finally have enough brain cells under control to answer, I release his hand and stutter out, “Sullivan. Sully,” I add without thinking.

  “Nice to meet you, Sully.” He sits next to me on the rock. “What brings you to Woodland Creek?”

  “An accident,” I answer. “You?”

  “I was born here and just never left.”

  The rain starts coming down harder and my clothes are soaked within seconds. “Do people in this town often have parties in the middle of a storm?”

  Declan shrugs causing our shoulders to bump and heat to flare between us. “They’re a bunch of college kids. I would imagine there isn’t much that will keep them from making fools of themselves.”

  “You don’t go to Hastings?”

  He haunches down against the rain. Beads of it condense and fall into the springy hair of his beard and I find that I can’t look away from the sight. My fingers itch to run through it and see if it is as soft as I imagine. “Nah, I graduated a couple years ago. I manage our family business in town.”

  I think of my family and how estranged we’ve become. “Must be nice to grow up here, have all of your friends and family be nearby.”

  At that he looks away, running a hand over his hair. He must have forgotten that he was wearing the beanie because he knocks it to the ground, revealing a full head of thick brown hair. He bends at the waist, the nearly see-through material of his shirt stretching across the broad expanse of his back to reveal outlines of even more ink.

  For the first time, I think of using my gift for proactive reasons. I’d love to trace those lines and learn where he got them and why.

  Or maybe I just want to see him with his shirt completely off.

  Either way it doesn’t matter because, for some reason, I can’t read him at all. I don’t know if I should feel relieved, concerned, or a little peeved, so I go for a combination of all three.

  “They’re all gone.” He shoves the beanie back on his head. “My family, I mean. It’s just me now.”

  His statement strikes a chord in me. Even surrounded by people, I felt completely alone. It makes me want to wrap my arm around this perfect stranger to let him know that he’s not the only one.

  “So if you don’t go to Hastings, what were you doing creeping out in the middle of the woods at night?”

  “I give tours, you know walk the trails with the tourists and talk about the local wildlife. Anyway, one of the people on today’s tour left their bag in the woods. Didn’t find it, but I came across you as I was heading back and wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

  I put my palm on his thigh and squeeze. Partly because I can’t deny the urge to touch him and partly because I want to see if my lack of psychic response to him was a one-time thing. When I don’t feel, hear or see anything after a few seconds, aside from the basic zing of attraction—which I can’t deny either—I pull back. “I appreciate that, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome, Sully,” he says and I don’t correct him. I like the way my name sounds coming out of his mouth. It sounds like sex and secrets, all gruff and forbidden. He opens his mouth and hesitates for a second before saying, “You want to get out of here? Maybe go to someplace a little less wet?”

  I look back at the party, finally spotting my brother, who looks like he’s having the time of his life. Telling him to take me home now would ruin his fun and I’ve already been a gigantic bitch about this move.

  “I can’t leave because I’m supposed to drive my brother back home later.”

  “We don’t have to leave; my cabin is just over there.” He nods towards the edge of the clearing where the party is taking place. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep you warm enough. I probably have some dry clothes you can use.”

  “I don’t know; I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

  “It’s not an obligation to talk to a beautiful woman, Sully. C’mon.” He stands and offers his hand. The rain has slicked the material of his shirt to his skin and I can see every line of his defined pecs and abs, all one hundred of them. Dear God a part of me wants to be afraid of my visceral reaction to him. All the others are screaming for me to go with him.

  Ice colds drops of water find an opening at the back of his shirt and down my neck, making the decision an easy one. “Sure, anything to get out of the rain.”

  I take his hand again and shiver, though not from the cold. Being able to touch someone again without fear of what I may see is freeing and I find myself inching closer to him to revel in the feeling.

  The sounds of the crowd filter through the night air, but it’s more like background noise because the only thing I’m
focused on is him. His house is one of the cabins dotting a back road on the edge of the forest. It must be nice to wake up with this kind of view every day.

  I tug on his hand to get his attention. “This is your house?”

  He looks down and pulls me closer, putting an arm around my shoulder to share his body heat. “Yeah, it’s not much, but I like all of the space out here.”

  “Definitely better than out there. Thanks, again.”

  “No problem. Want me to get you something to drink?”

  I shrug out of his wet shirt and he takes it from me, throwing it in a pile on his dining room table. “Sure, anything would be great.”

  As he bangs around in the kitchen, I sit carefully on the edge of his well-worn sofa and study his house. The inside of the cabin isn’t anything fancy. It’s a sort of a studio-style open living space with the galley kitchen off to one side and the combination dining and living room to the other. It’s decorated with a bunch of black and white nature images and several homey, handmade throws.

  As he makes the drinks, I cross the living room to one of the pictures. It’s a black and white study of a grove of trees. It could have been taken anywhere, but part of me already knows it was taken in the woods. Something tells me that he keeps this place near to his heart. I can totally understand that. I didn’t want to leave my home either because it was the place that made me feel the closest to my parents. With my gift, I was able to grab memories from all over our house.

  I didn’t realize how much I missed that special kind of inconvenience until I touched the fridge at Nonna’s and didn’t get a vision of my dad grabbing a beer. Or when I started the coffee machine and didn’t see my mom’s sleepy morning face complete with hair sticking in every direction.