Page 4 of Redeem

I waited for the fear to come, the apprehension.

It did, but for entirely the wrong reason. I wasn’t afraid for my safety as I should have been. Instead I was interested in him, intrigued, turned on.

I didn’t feel things. Put all of my energy, my thoughts, my focus into making sure that was the case. I existed, moved from day to day focused on this project or that, but the reaction that touch had stirred…I’d put that kind of emotion behind me.

I still had physical desires, but I viewed them as nothing more than that. If I was hungry, I ate. Tired, I slept. And if the desire for sex got too strong, I’d take care of it, either with my own hands, or with the rare man who sparked enough interest to make small talk worth the while.

But this, this was different. The spot where he had grazed me throbbed, and that throb radiated through my body and down to my core, making me clench with need, ache with it. In an instant, I was longing for his touch, and that longing had me completely off balance. It went beyond some physical need. It awoke parts of me I had sworn were forever closed.

And that terrified me.

Because that kind of longing meant I hadn’t managed to stamp out those deeper emotions, meant that at any moment they could come roaring back. Made me realize that all the effort I had put into walling myself off might have been for nothing.

One touch and he had put a cannonball through that wall. What could he do if he really tried? What could someone else?

I didn’t want to find out. Knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I did.

He had to go.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he said.

I almost flinched, but at the last second managed to stay still.

I was surprised that I had been so deep in my own thoughts I hadn’t noticed he’d finished, but when I looked past him to the porch, I saw the wood neatly stacked, arranged so I could easily cut it down into more manageable pieces.

Thoughtful.

That thoughtfulness had the power to get me back on track.

I looked at him, ignored the way my chest squeezed when I did, and said, “No. That’s all.”

He didn’t say anything else, didn’t try to convince me that I might need more help, yet another thing that threw me for a loop. I was uncertain of what to say, what to do, but I needed to get him out of here, so that should be my focus.

“You ready to go back?”

“Yes,” he said.

I nodded, not entirely sure why but then went back to the truck. For a moment, I worried that he would get into the cab, and I had no idea how I would react to that. His proximity had already thrown me off. How would I react in the tight confines of the truck? Fortunately, he spared me that and instead climbed into the back.

A minute later, I was in the truck and headed back down the road. The farther I got away from the house, the more I questioned my reaction. Maybe I had imagined it.

The residual adrenaline that raced through me told me that I hadn’t, that those moments had been as real and intense as they had seemed. I looked through the rearview mirror, saw the back of his head, the dark hair that was lifted by the wind.

Yeah, the reaction had been real, but I decided to let it go and refused to let myself get upset by it. It had simply been a momentary lapse. Besides, as much as it pained me, I was still human, and he was enough to remind me of that. Not classically handsome exactly, but an intense presence and an interesting one. So my reaction was simply a normal human reaction, nothing more.

Halfway through the ride, I had myself convinced. But, I still couldn’t quite shake the curiosity I had about him. Couldn’t quite put my finger on what was different about him, but it was something. If I could have afforded to ask questions, I would try to figure it out.

I couldn’t, though, didn’t have the capacity to, so instead I simply looked forward.

As I drove, I reached for one of the bottles of water I kept in the cab, and as I sipped, I realized my rudeness. We hadn’t been out long, but I hadn’t offered him anything to drink. When I pulled to a stop at a light, I opened the window that separated the cab from the truck bed.

“Water?” I asked, slipping the bottle into the opening.

“Thank you.” His voice was muffled but still clear, and as I waited for the light to change, I watched him drink through the rearview mirror, but then looked away when I felt the resurgence of those feelings I had only barely managed to push down.

That had been stupid. I had only just gotten myself back on track, and then I’d immediately thrown my equilibrium off again. I tried to tell myself that it was simple hospitality, that I was only doing what any reasonable and good person would.

Hoped it was the truth.