Calamity Jena (Invertary 4)

The twins fell to their knees beside the man. “Who is it?” Megan demanded. “What happened? I didn’t hit him. Why isn’t he moving?”

“I don't recognise him.” Claire reached over and put a trembling hand on his wide chest. Relief made her giddy. “He's breathing. I think he hit his head when he dove out of the way.”

That news jerked Megan out of her daze. “Good. That’s good. Not good he hit his head. Good we didn’t hit him and he’s still breathing. What do we do?”

“I don't know.”

He made a little groaning sound. Claire patted his chest, hoping her gentle touch would reassure him. Hard, corded muscles met her fingertips, making her suddenly aware that she was petting a very large, strange man.

“Can you hear me?” she said. “You've been in an accident.”

With a gentle groan, his head turned towards Claire, and the air was sucked out of her. Masculine. He was the definition of the word. His dark hair was cropped military short, and an old scar ran from his hairline over his temple to the curve of his cheek. His nose had been broken at some point and had healed slightly crooked. For a second Claire had the urge to trace the bump on the ridge. Full lips were the only soft feature in a harsh face. She stared at them and wondered briefly if they were as soft as they looked.

“What’s your name?” Megan’s voice snapped Claire’s attention away from her inappropriate thoughts.

His eyes didn’t open, but he mumbled a word: “Grunt.”

“No, honey, she asked your name.” Claire patted his chest. “Tell us your name.”

There was silence as the guy slid back into unconsciousness.

“Did he say Grunt?” Megan said.

“He’s totally out of it.” Claire studied the man in front of her. “We need an ambulance.”

“It could take an hour for the ambulance to get here from Fort William, maybe longer.”

Megan had a point.

“We could take him to Doctor Murray,” they said at the same time.

“Should we move him?” Megan said. “What if he's broken his neck?”

/> The man groaned softly. His eyes flickered open, unfocused and dark. He blinked, searching for something to rest on. His gaze hit Claire. His eyes softened.

“Angel.” His voice rough as gravel. He lifted a beefy arm. Slowly and awkwardly reaching for Claire. She gasped as he cupped her cheek. His huge palm felt rough against her skin and her body hummed with awareness. “Mine,” he growled.

The word came out strong, like a vow. His eyes rolled back in his head and his hand fell to the ground. Claire forced herself to breathe again.

“Well, that was weird,” Megan whispered.

“At least we know he isn't paralysed. We need to get him into the car.”

“Shouldn't you check him for injuries first? Make sure nothing is broken. Do some first aid.”

“Why me?” Claire said. “You check him.”

“You're a teacher; you have first-aid experience.”

“I'm a kindy teacher. We fix everything with Mickey Mouse Band-Aids and lollipops.”

“Just check the man. He could be bleeding to death while we argue.”

“Fine.” Gritting her teeth, Claire tentatively ran her fingers down his arms and legs, checking for breaks and blood. She found nothing except solid muscle and biceps that would make Dwayne Johnson weep with envy. “Go grab the flashlight so I can see if he’s bleeding anywhere.”

Her sister jumped up, and a minute later she was back with the flashlight in hand.

“Shine the light at his head.”