Caveman (5 page)

“Thank you,” I whisper. I’m breathless again and I need to figure this shit out. I think it’s because I haven’t had sex in over eighteen months that I end up panting for a random man.

He nods and looks away, focusing on my leg again. He checks the bandages and when his finger accidentally brushes my shin, I have to suppress a shudder.

“Is it broken?” My voice is a little groggy and I clear my throat, feeling my face heating up.

He keeps his eyes trained on the splint. “No,” he finally says. His voice is just above a whisper too but he doesn’t seem to care. And I definitely don’t. It’s sexy as hell.

“Thank you,” I say again, searching for his eyes. “I’m Cassandra, by the way. Or Cassie as most people call me. I… I don’t know exactly what happened but I know you helped me, probably saved my life too. I don’t know what to say. Just… thank you.”

He nods again and I think I see his throat moving as he swallows. Am I making him nervous? If we’re out here all alone, is it possible that he has absolutely no one? And if that’s the case, how long has it been since he last spoke to another person?

He moves away from me and I have to clench my fists to keep from stopping him. I feel like I need him to be close. He goes over the table and takes something in his hands and turns back to me. It’s a metallic plate and there’s cooked meat in it.

“Eat,” he says softly and moves to sit in the chair that he has placed in front of the fireplace.

My stomach recognizes the smell of food and growls loudly. I’m not even embarrassed by that and I try to keep my manners in mind as I devour the meat. I don’t think he has much cooking equipment but it’s delicious. Or I’m
that
hungry. When I’m finished, I’m surprised and grateful to see him get up and refill my plate. I’m more civilized on my second filling and I try to study him.

He has his elbows propped on his knees, leaning towards the fire. Unfortunately he’s back to wearing a shirt and his hair is loose, hanging around his face and shielding it. He is holding something small in one hand and a knife in the other and I wonder if he’s carving something. He seems so concentrated in what he’s doing and I want to go beside him and see what it is.

As soon as I finish eating and I’m deliciously full, I start pushing myself up to clean my plate. I don’t see a sink but maybe there’s something outside I can use to wash it up? I’m not prepared for the sharp pain I feel on my ankle when I try to put some weight on it and I let out a startled yelp of pain. His head snaps around and he’s beside me in a flash.

“Don’t,” he growls again and – oh, yep! There it is. The dangerous lilt in his voice that had me nearly panting before. Nearly? Did I say nearly? I’m pretty sure I’m panting right now. But I’ll blame it on the pain for argument’s sake.

He grabs the plate from my hands and whirls around, headed outside. I hear a clanking sound and then he’s coming back inside and closing the door behind him. Did he just throw the plate on the porch?

“Who are you?” I ask softly. “Where are we? What happened to the pilot?”

He sighs and leans back on his chair. His fingers come up and slide through his hair as he sighs a second time. “Your plane crashed,” he responds with his deep voice. “The pilot didn’t make it. He was dead when I found you. I managed to get you out along with whatever bag I could grab before the plane was covered in flames.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Oh my God. He… he died because of me. Because I was in a hurry to go.”

“He died because the plane crashed. That’s it. You weren’t the one to cause the crash. Now sleep.”

“I… I…” I swallow. “I can’t sleep. I think I’ve slept pretty much all day.”

He huffs in frustration and drops on the floor, pushing the chair further from the fireplace. He lies on the floor on his side, with his back to me. Is he… going to sleep there? Oh, fuck, I’m sitting on the only bed.

“Please,” I start softly. “Don’t sleep on the floor. I can sit on the chair and you can sleep in your bed. I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

He doesn’t respond. He’s just lying there on the floor, using his arm bent under his cheek as a pillow. Oh, hell no. I’m not so shocked by my situation that I’m about to let him sleep on the floor while I’ll be lying awake on his bed.

I push to my feet and stumble towards him. I reach the chair and turn to sit on it. I never make it. Once again, I’m being picked up and deposited on the bed.

“Stay,” he growls.

“No,” I retort firmly, trying to ignore the shivers his voice brings me. “I’m not going to sleep. You are. Ergo you take the bed.”

“I am not asking,” he growls again and – oh my freaking God! – I think I’m getting wet as he leans forward. He’s trying to scare me but all he manages is to turn me on yet again. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“And I’m not a dog,” I insist stubbornly.

Is that…? Did his lips just twitch? Fuck the beard for not letting me see that. “You stay on that bed if you want your leg to heal.” His voice now comes out a little calmer.

“It will heal. Please, take the bed.”

Our eyes stay connected for a long moment. I have to suppress the urge to lean forward just to get closer to him. Why am I so drawn to him?

He finally breaks the connection and pulls back, putting more distance between us. “You take the bed or don’t. Do as you please.” And then he just lies back on the floor in front of the fireplace and that’s it. I’m dismissed and I feel like a brat having just been scolded when
he
is the one acting like one. Why can’t he just take the freaking bed?

I lie on my side with my back turned to him. It’s not a comfortable position since my hurt leg is on top and it feels rather heavy but now I
am
feeling like a brat. I’ve just been in a plane crash, barely making it out alive and I’m in a cabin in the middle of some forest in Alaska with a sexy, stubborn, nameless caveman. And I’m pretty sure my obsession on Damon Sawyers just caused the life of another man. How did things get so bad? Why couldn’t I have just kept photographing cheating spouses?

I curl to my side as much as my splinted leg will let me and let out the silent tears that are begging to fall.

I
wake up once again to the silence of the cabin. It took me quite some time to fall asleep last night and I think it’s late morning now. The fire is burning low, which is odd. It was burning strong all day yesterday and I thought my caveman never let it go out.

I manage to push to my feet and realize in relief that it hurts much less today. In fact, I think the swelling might have subsided so much that the splint and bandages have come a little loose. I sit back down and carefully un-wrap the cloths and remove the splint. My ankle is a little red but I was right. It’s not swollen anymore. When I stand back up, it doesn’t hurt more than it did with the splint on and I decide to leave it like that.

Outside the day is like the previous one. Bright blue sky above and green trees as far as the eye can see. There is no other sound than the birds singing and the sound of nature in general. No wood chopping or any other indication that my caveman is around. I open my mouth to call out to him but I close it back again. How do I call him? He hasn’t told me his name, even though I’ve asked.

Finally I open my mouth and call out, “Hello?”

Nothing. I call out again, louder but get no response. Where is he? I take the steps and follow the route I took yesterday to where he was chopping logs but he’s not here either. His axe is here and, for a moment, I consider taking it to defend myself against a wild animal but then dismiss the idea almost immediately. It’s not like I know how to wield it.

I walk back to the cabin and search its small space. I remember him saying he saved as many bags as he could from the plane but I don’t see any. I would have liked to find my phone and call for help. But then again, I doubt it would still have any battery left. If it even survived the crash.

My leg is starting to throb again so I lie down and try to retie the splint. When I’m done I know it’s a pretty lame job but it will have to do for now. Where is my caveman?

It’s nighttime and my caveman hasn’t come back. Did something happen to him? Did he just leave me? Maybe he decided he didn’t want to help me and left to build another cabin somewhere? And why do I find the idea of not seeing him again worse than being left out here all alone?

I found some meat in one of the cabinets earlier and some herbs and tried grilling it over the fire, after throwing a few more logs in. Now I’m thinking of where I will find something to eat tomorrow if he doesn’t come back. I don’t know if there are any animals around here but I’d probably get eaten first before finding something to hunt and kill. How would I manage that anyway? With my deadly claws and fangs?

I’ve searched the area around the cabin several times in hopes he returned and didn’t come in the cabin but I’m too scared of the dark to go out now. I guess I should go to sleep and pray that he’s okay and hasn’t abandoned me.

I wake up to find I’m still alone. Where is he? Please, don’t let him have been eaten by something.

I stink. I wonder where he gets his showers. There is no running water as far as I’ve walked and there definitely isn’t a shower stall or a bathtub in the cabin. I’d give anything in that moment for a tub full of hot water and bubble bath. Or even a showerhead attached to a freaking wall. I’m thinking I should look around to find some water and get cleaned up.

It takes me a while to find the river. It’s not too wide but its current looks strong. Not too deep so I may be able to get in without fearing being carried away. I don’t have anything to dry myself off with so I’m just going to have to run back to the cabin and hope that the fire will be enough to save me from hypothermia. It’s not too cold around but it’s not hot either and I doubt the water will be warm.

I take off my clothes, leaving my underwear on because like hell I’m going to get completely naked out here. I walk to the edge of the water and sink my toes inside. Fuck! That’s cold. I lay my entire right foot in the water and hiss in a breath. Fucking freezing. Oh my God, maybe dying of filth is better than diving in that water, right?

I put my other foot in and have to breathe in quick, gasping breaths to keep from crying out. Another step in and now I feel the cold everywhere, whether the water is touching me or not. As I lift my leg to walk a step further inside, I hear a low growl and too hands clasp around my waist and pull me back. I’m in the air for a moment and then I’m being put back on the ground, out of the water and spun around to meet a set of enraged grayish-green eyes.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

My body is shaking with the cold but my face is hot enough to grill bacon. Of all the embarrassing moments. “I was j-just trying to c-clean up,” I stutter while trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

“Oh, for fuck’s…” he trails off and then I’m in his arms again, cradled against his chest.

“P-Put me down,” I protest weakly. His warmth feels too good to make it any stronger. “I can walk.”

“Your ankle is hurt,” he grumbles while speed-walking towards the cabin.

But I’m naked
, I want to say but I don’t. He doesn’t seem to care and he’s determined and stronger than me. I guess I should be glad that he hasn’t abandoned me and not whine about being denied my cold bath.

It takes me a while to realize he’s not walking us back to the cabin after all. He is actually following some kind of path over rocks and boulders that I think lead further into the forest.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask in confusion.

He doesn’t answer and doesn’t look at me. So I do the only thing I can. I burrow myself into his chest, trying to cover any part of me I can reach but also looking for more of his warmth. I think maybe his arms tighten around me marginally.

I don’t think a long time has passed when he stops and I look up. “Oh my God!” I breathe. “Is this…?”

“Here,” he says softly and lowers me to the ground. When my feet are steady, he pulls back. “Have your bath here.” And then he’s walking away.

My mouth is hanging open and I don’t know what my reaction should be. Be upset over him leaving me alone out where I can’t find my way back or be thrilled of the place he has brought me to? Since I like to hope he’ll be coming back to get me, I choose the latter and turn my focus to the awesome sight before me.

A hot spring!

If it weren’t for the steams hovering over the water you’d think it was just a regular lake. But there isn’t really anything regular to be described in the marvel in front of me. I’m on top of a small hill with a warm pool in front of my feet and an amazing view of the forest and mountains surrounding the area. Absolutely mesmerizing!

I quickly remove my underwear and step inside. Minutes ago I said no way was I removing all my clothes. Now I say no way am I letting those scraps of clothes get between me and that hot water. I sink into that little piece of heaven and let out a long sigh. Without giving it any thought I also dive my head inside and let the warm water do its healing. Healing my ankle, my fears, my soul.

I resurface and make my way to one side of it a little further from the access point, making sure to keep my body submerged the whole time. The water feels so divine I can’t think of a reason I would ever come out. I close my eyes and drop my head back against the rock, letting my mind drift off.

“Hungry yet?”

My caveman’s voice startles me and I nearly jump out of the water before I remember I’m completely naked under the surface. I instinctually cover my breasts with one arm as I turn my head to find him. He’s sitting right next to the spot I’ve dropped my underwear and has piled my clothes over them. Next to my clothes is a bag – my bag!

“You found my bag?” I all but screech. Oh, God! My clothes. My phone. My toothbrush and toothpaste! My towel! I think I might cry!

He nods and pushes to his feet. Without another word he walks back towards the path and disappears. Did he just leave me again? This man has serious social issues.

I quickly make my way out of my dream pool and find my towel and a clean set of clothes from my bag. Once I’m dry and dressed again, I shove everything back in my bag and start towards the path. My ankle isn’t bothering me yet and I want to hurry in case I catch up to my—

I bump on a solid wall of hard muscle and inhale sharply. He grabs my arms to keep me steady. My heart is beating wildly in my chest. “Sorry,” I mumble when I finally can get my mouth to move.

His grip tightens a bit before he drops his arms. “Can you walk?”

I nod, lost in his gaze. He’s taller than me by a head, making him at about 6’ 3’’, if my estimations are correct. He still hasn’t stepped back and my breasts are brushing his chest. I let out a short exhale when I feel my nipples tighten and am the first to take that step back.

He takes my bag from my hands and whirls around, starting down the path with me on his heel. I notice that he’s probably not going at full speed in order for me to catch up. As soon as we are back in the cabin though, he drops my bag on the porch and leaves. I want to ask where he is going but I hold my tongue. It’s none of my business and I don’t want to get on his nerves and have him throwing me out with absolutely no way of going back to civilization.

So instead, I get inside and place my bag next to the bed. I’m even more surprised to see my case folder on the table, next to my briefcase. Did he open it? Did he read it? I’m a little annoyed that he would look at my personal stuff without my permission but I’m actually curious of what he thinks of it. Of what he thinks of me. If he did read the case file, it means he knows why I’m in Alaska.

My hand moves before I can stop myself and I open the case file. Damon’s photo is right there, on the top, attached to the sheet of paper containing every piece of information I have on him. I run my fingers over the edges of the photo and freeze.

“Oh my God,” I breathe as the realization hits me like a freight train. It’s him. Damon. My caveman. They are one and the same.

How could I not have seen it until now? I’ve memorized that picture. I’ve memorized every little detail about him including his hair and eye color. I had sensed some kind of recognition from the moment I’d first saw him leaned over the fireplace but I hadn’t made the connection. Oh my God, this is beyond unbelievable. I found him!

I start turning around to go talk to him but stop short. Another thought comes to mind and it’s confusing me. He read the file. He must have because it couldn’t have gotten out of the briefcase on its own and he wouldn’t have taken it out just to lay it on the table for me. So he knows it’s him I’m looking for. But why didn’t he say anything? And why is he here, in the middle of nowhere living like a hermit?

His hair, his beard… I think he has been here ever since he left seven years ago. He had planned to come here all along. He had planned to leave civilization behind. But why? He had everything and he left it all… for this? A log cabin in the middle of nowhere with the only plus being a hot spring within a fifteen-minute walk? It doesn’t make any sense.

It strikes me then that I found him. And the irony is that I found him after my plane crashing on my way to McCarthy. Where I thought he was but is proved that he wasn’t. It’s like… like the plane crashed
so
I would find him. Which is morbid since the pilot died but I can’t help feeling that I was somehow meant to find him and fate brought me to him.

I close the file and sit on the chair. I want to understand him. I want to know what was so bad that drove him away from a dreamy life. And then I want to get him and go back. I want to close this case and give him his life back. But will he want it?

The door to the cabin swings open and my caveman comes in, holding the metallic plate filled with cooked meat. I lift my head from where I’d dozed off on my arms and blink up at him. Damon. He’s Damon. I should have seen it. Now that I know it seems so obvious. The only difference from the photo is his hair and beard.

His eyes see the folder under my hands but he doesn’t say anything. A muscle in his jaw is ticking and he places the plate in front of me. “Eat,” he says simply.

I’m hungry but I don’t care about food in the moment. Instead I point a finger on the file. “You read this.” I’m not asking. I know he did.

His eyes are incomprehensible as he holds my gaze. What is in his mind? Can he see what’s in mine? Can he tell the swirling emotions inside me now that I know I found him?

“I did,” he says eventually and turns to the fireplace.

That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say? I push up from my chair and point at the file again. “You’re him. You’re Damon Sawyers.” A lump forms in my throat as I speak. “I found you,” I add as a soft sob escapes along with my words.

He clenches his hands to his sides but doesn’t turn around to look at me. “Eat,” he says sharply.

“No,” I insist. “I found you. You’re Damon Sawyers.”

“I’m not,” he barks out.

“You are! Your hair is different and you have a beard but I know it’s you. I think I knew from the moment I first saw you but I didn’t make the connection. But it’s you! You’re Da—”

“I’m not him!” he yells and spins around to pin crazy eyes on me. “Now eat your goddamn food and be done with it.”

I’m speechless. And I’m disappointed. I hadn’t imagined this when I pictured finding him. “Why?” I whisper. “Why would you lie when I know I’m right? Do you know what your brother has gone through to find you? He’s been looking for you ever since you left. He thought you were dead. He was desperate when he came to me. That’s why I was in Alaska in the first place. So why would you lie when it’s so obvious what the people who love you are willing to do to get you back?”