Caveman (4 page)

“Oh, right. Well, yes. I’m not going anywhere. Do you have my address?”

I repeat his address for confirmation and hang up. Time to find me a flight.

I return to the control tower and ask for flights to McCarthy. When I find out there aren’t any for two days, I ask for an alternative.

“You should go see if you can charter a flight since you’re in a hurry. I can give you a list if you’d like.”

I take the list and arrange for a flight in two hours. It’s close to the sunset but it’s only a fifty minutes’ flight. Hopefully Mr. Sawyers’ money will be well spent and I will find Damon in McCarthy.

I don’t know how long we’re on the air when it happens. The twin-engine aircraft I’ve charted seems like it was taken right out of a bad movie scenario and I had to close my eyes during the take-off, praying that it would stay in one piece long enough to get me to McCarthy. When the plane starts to shake and I hear the pilot cursing, I know we’re in deep shit.

“Fuck! Hold on, Miss Hale. We’ve hit a bird. We’re going down.”

That’s bad. Oh, that’s so bad. I have no idea what to do. We’re crashing and I really feel like I’m in a movie now. These things don’t happen in real life. They just don’t.

“What do I do?” I yell out in terror.

“Not much you can do, now. Put your head between your knees and pray.”

I was never good at praying. I never believed in anything but my gut and now it has failed me. It had assured me I’d find Damon but now I’m going to die. There’s no way anyone would survive a crash landing. The last thing in my mind is him.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t find you. I’m sorry I let you down.

Then everything is made of noise and pain. And finally darkness.

F
ire. Scrunched up metal. Cold. Pain. That’s all that exists in my world. Consciousness though is elusive and I find myself delving into the darkness once more.

The world is shaking. No. I’m shaking. I’m cold. So cold. Where am I? What is that crisp smell? And that sound. It reminds me of burning wood. Yes. That’ it. Burning. Am I near a fireplace? If so, why do I hurt so much? Like I’m pressed against metal. So cool and hard.

A strange feeling. Warmth. Safety. The pain is not gone but it’s not all I’m feeling. I slowly manage to open my eyes and what I see has me blinking again. I must be dreaming because I think I’m being carried by Bigfoot. Oh, fuck I died. I died and I’m in a strange limbo where the ferryman is the Bigfoot. Fuck it. If I’m really dead then there’s nothing wrong with going back to sleep. I’m so tired and my head hurts.

I’m weirdly comfortable. I’m lying on something warm and soft. Are these… sheets? Am I on a bed? God, I must have been sleeping because I had the worst dream ever. That I was in a plane and we hit a bird and crashed. Then something was burning and I was being carried away by the Bigfoot. Only… now that I think about it, it looked more like a man. And why am I in pain?

I peel my eyes open and my sight slowly focuses on my surroundings. Wooden walls. Wooden furniture. A cabin? Why am I in a cabin?
How
am I in a cabin? I was… Where was I before I went to sleep?
Alaska
. Memory comes back slowly. I came to Alaska. To find Damon.
McCarthy
. I was trying to get to McCarthy. The plane. The crash. It really happened.

I stir, trying to lift my body. Oh my God, the pain. The pain is getting stronger when I move. My head feels like it’s being split open. And my leg burns. Oh fuck, have I broken it? No. No, I can move it. And then it hits me.

I survived a plane crash.

The pilot. Where is the pilot? Where am I and how did I get here? Movement on my peripheral vision catches my attention and I try to spin my head to see who’s there. A man. A man with long, wild, dark hair and an equally long, wild and dark beard. He’s wearing heavy khaki cargo pants and a gray, long-sleeved tee. So not Bigfoot. Or a Yeti for that matter.

He’s bent over a fireplace, rearranging the logs. I open my mouth to speak but my throat is too dry and my mouth even drier. I cough in an attempt to clear it and he spins around. Our eyes meet and lock and my heart starts beating fast immediately. Those eyes… I feel like they’re connected straight to my soul. But my mind must still be fuzzy because I can’t connect them with the face. Which of course is silly since I’m pretty sure I’ve never met this man in my life before. It doesn’t make sense.

He pushes to his feet and covers the distance between us in two long strides. His hand lifting up and coming towards my face makes me flinch and then wince from the pain. He stops with his hand hovering over my face and something passes behind those eyes. Grayish-green. They remind me of the underside of leaves when the sun is hidden behind rain clouds.

He moves his hand again more slowly, opening his palm as if to show me he means no harm. His fingers are rough against my skin as they push strands of hair to the side but their feel makes my stomach clench in a completely pleasant way. He turns his palm and presses the back of his fingers on my forehead, then my temple, then my cheek. He’s only checking for fever but it’s oddly comforting. I feel like I’m being taken care off and my eyes droop. I’m safe.

My eyes drift completely closed when I feel his palm turn to cup my left cheek. His thumb brushes over the edge of my cheekbone and my head automatically leans into his touch. How can I feel so safe, so comfortable with this man? I don’t know him. I don’t even know his name. I open my mouth to ask him but I can’t get any words out. I’m drifting back to sleep. I’m so tired…

I wake to the sound of crackling wood. That’s the only sound at first and then I hear more. Birds I think. And leaves being stirred by the wind. Yeah, that’s the sound of nature. How long has it been since I last heard nature so clearly? Nothing compares to it.

I blink my eyes open slowly. I’m still in the cabin. It wasn’t a dream. Which means the man wasn’t a dream either. A good thing really. How pathetic would I’ve been dreaming of men I’d never seen before?

The cabin is empty. I turn my head from side to side to take everything in. Small, quaint. Simple. A table, a chair, the bed I’m lying on. A couple of cabinets. The fireplace. As my mind seems to work better, I realize it’s not just simply a log cabin after all. This seems professionally made. The fireplace seems to be a mixture of granite and rock. The whole structure seems solid. Designed. It’s so at odds with the simplicity of its furniture.

I push my body up to a sitting position. My head throbs slightly but it’s not something I can’t handle. A few deep breaths and most of it goes away. As soon as I’m seated, my eyebrows fly up to meet my hairline. My right leg is bandaged. But there’s nothing traditional about it. No actual bandages or gauzes. I can see a splint – an actual wooden splint – peeking out of cut cloth. Flannel cloth in stripes. What the…?

I bring to mind the man. If there was one word I could describe him it’d be wild. He was like a caveman. A caveman in long-sleeved t-shirt and cargo pants. Was he wearing shoes? I can’t remember. Which is stupid actually because shoes aren’t important right now. What’s important is I find out where I am and what exactly has happened.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and wince when my right foot meets the wooden floor. That’s going to be hard to walk on. I try the splint and makeshift bandages and see that they stay firmly in place. Good. I wouldn’t want them to fall off along with my leg. God, I hope it’s not broken. If it is, trying to stand is going to hurt like a mother.

I slowly put pressure on my right leg. It stings a bit but – again – nothing I can’t handle. I push to my feet entirely and hold my arms out to find my balance. Okay, that hurts a little more. Taking a few hesitant steps, the pain grows but I grit my teeth and move slowly towards the door. I think maybe it hurts more
because
of the splint but I still don’t know the extent of the damage so I’m not going to remove it. Besides, my caveman might think it’s offending to undo his work. He could swing his club and beat his chest in anger. I smile at the ridiculous image I’m creating.

When I pull the door open I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment at the light difference. It wasn’t dark inside the cabin but it is way brighter outside. As I finally manage to open my eyes and look around, I’m left breathless. Speechless. Evergreen trees are everywhere yet the sky above is clearly visible. Clear blue against dark green. And the smell… The clean smell of the forest, earth and freshness of the air. There’s really nothing like it. It’s absolutely stunning.

The cabin stands a little higher than the ground and there are a few steps in front of me. I grab the railing and pull myself forward. My leg has started to throb and I still haven’t gone anywhere. I’m pretty sure it has already started to swell. I never liked feeling helpless though and I push through it. I’m thinking I should call out for my caveman but I’m cut short by a sound. It sounds like it’s coming from a little further into the forest and to the right. Like… something hitting on something else.

I take the steps excruciatingly slow and turn towards the sound. It gets louder as I walk – or rather stumble – and I realize it’s the sound of chopping wood. I hesitate for a moment, thinking I’m about to go find someone with wild hair, long beard and wielding an axe but I shake my head and go on. If he wanted to hurt me he would have already done it. Or at least that’s what I hope.

As the sound of the axe gets louder, I see him. And I can only go so much further before I’m stopped in my tracks. Because my caveman is shirtless. And – oh my God – he is ripped. And his skin is glistening with his sweat as his muscles flex and jump with his movements. And his cargo pants fall low on his hips, hugging his firm ass tightly. Oh my God. Am I drooling? I think I’m drooling.

I’m completely mesmerized by his body. I watch as he cuts the logs, splitting them easily in half, as if it’s just a simple thing. My stomach tightens and I feel my blood heating up. Oh, fuck me. I’m turned on because, yeah, he is
hot
. He sticks the axe on the supporting log and lifts a hand up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It’s now I notice that he has his hair in a loose, low ponytail. He bends down and lifts a canteen with water to his mouth. He tilts his head back as he drinks and I let my eyes slowly rake his body one more time.

His head swivels towards me and I’m caught staring. He stays still for a moment and then his eyes harden. He drops the canteen and stomps towards me. Oh shit. What did I do? Was I wrong to think he wouldn’t hurt me? He seems furious. And still he looks beyond amazing. My eyes can’t help but notice the trail of dark hair leading down, under the band of his pants. I try taking a step back from him, forgetting my bandaged leg and I trip. I’m falling slowly and I mentally prepare myself for the impact.

A strong arm shoots out and wraps around my waist. I’m being pulled forward to hit against a rock hard chest. My hands come up to steady myself and land on his pecs. God, the man has pecs! I think I’m still drooling. My body is definitely still reacting to his even though I’m pretty sure the look in his eyes could be described as murderous.

With a swift movement, he bends his knees and wraps an arm around my legs while moving the other around my back. When he stands back up, I’m being lifted in the air and cradled in his arms. A small squeal escapes my lips and I wrap my arms around his neck to steady myself.

“What are you doing?” I ask in apprehension. And why am I still turned on? He’s probably taking me back to the cabin to chop me into pieces and cook me up. God, I even find his sweaty body a turn on.

He doesn’t answer, just lets out a low growl that vibrates his chest and I have to stifle a whimper. That was so hot! And I’m so messed up!

“Where are you taking me?” I ask again, trying to get my voice to sound firmer. “Who are you? Where are we? Where is the pilot?”

He still doesn’t answer, just keeps on walking with me in his arms. I search his face for a sign that he can listen but he’s not looking at me. His eyes are fixed straight forward and a muscle is ticking in his jaw. Yep. My previous assessment was correct. He is beyond pissed.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Whatever I did that has made you angry I’m sorry. Just tell me where we are and how I can find the nearest town and I’ll be out of your way.”

His jaw moves in a grinding movement and I’m pretty sure I just made him even angrier. Great. If he’s not already a psychotic murderer I’m sure I can turn him into one.

The trees clear a bit and I realize we’re back at the cabin. He pushes the door open with me still in his arms and storms in the room. When he reaches the side of the bed, I expect him to toss me down but it’s not what happens. He lowers me carefully on the mattress until I’m lying on my back and he is hovering over me.

“Stay,” he growls and – oh shit – I think I just had a mini orgasm. His voice is deep, gravely and rolls over me like warm honey and I have to hold my breath not to pant. What the hell is wrong with me? Oh, and that solves the mystery of whether he can speak or not.

He moves his body and comes to bend over my leg. His hands pat the makeshift bandage as if he’s making sure it’s in place. Then he whirls around and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind him and rattling the entire structure. I’m pretty sure I’m wrong but… is it possible he was angry because I got out of bed? Because I could have possibly hurt my foot more?

I remain laid down, unmoving in fear of him coming back. But I make a realization. I’m not afraid of him in the manner that he could hurt me. I simply don’t like him angry. I don’t know what he would look like not-angry but… Wait. I know what he looks like calm. When I woke up earlier and he touched my face he was calm and comforting. Safe. It must be why I was instinctually certain he wouldn’t hurt me when I saw him coming towards me in the woods.

I close my eyes and try to calm my racing heart. I need to figure out where I am. How long I’ve been out. Where the pilot is. If people know our plane crashed. If they know I’m alive. And I need to find a way back. I need to get back to looking for Damon. I was so close. What if he is in McCarthy as we speak and I’m stuck here? With my sexy caveman?

The sound of the fire crackling and the birds chirping is unsurprisingly calming and I’m slowly drawn back to sleep. As I feel my consciousness slipping away, I think I hear the door swinging open, followed by soft footsteps. Maybe I’m imagining the rough fingers grazing my cheek, trailing my jaw and brushing the seam of my lower lip. I think I almost imagine a deep voice muttering “Fuck,” before I completely fall asleep.

When I wake up, the cabin is quiet like before. The sound of the fire is my only company and the room is darker through my closed eyelids. I think it’s nighttime. I try to shift but I’m cut off by a sharp pain on my leg. I forgot about the splint for a moment. A small sound of protest comes out of my mouth and I prop my elbows on the mattress in an attempt to sit up.

Rustling of clothes and a hand appearing to press on my lower back have my eyes flying open. I guess I wasn’t alone after all. My caveman’s face is next to mine and he’s helping me sit up. My heart immediately finds a crazy rhythm. Taking a few deep breaths, I manage to sit on my butt and my caveman helps me turn so I can lean against the wall behind me. I look up just in time to catch his eyes watching me and holding mine.