American Honey

“What?” I stumble back a step, disbelief and fear wash over me as I try to get away from him. “You’re crazy,” I yell, moving toward the door.

He catches my wrist in his hand as I fumble for the doorknob behind me. “Oh, no you don’t,” he chides me. “Where are you going to go anyway?”

“Help!” I call out, my voice cracking. “Please someone help.”

A maniacal laugh bubbles from his twisted mouth. “No one can hear you, so keep screaming. I like it when they fight back.”

Fear like I’ve never know lances through me. In that moment, every side-ways glance, every wayward touch, everything that I thought was odd and just off about Ethan Robertson, comes back to me full force. Screams, frenzied and panicked, fly out of my mouth. When his hand clamps over my mouth, I bite down hard enough to draw blood. It’s enough of a distraction for him to drop my hand and for me to open the door.

He recovers quickly, grabbing my wrist as I’m just one step out the door. He pulls me back, twisting me to face him. A loud thwap sounds in the air as his hand slaps across my face. “You bitch!” he curses.

When his hand flies up into the air for what I assume is another smack to the face, I close my eyes and brace for it.

“Leave her the fuck alone!” I recognize the low, mean growl of Owen’s voice as I wait for the painful blow. When it doesn’t happen, I open my eyes. Ethan turns to see a seething Owen standing behind him. With my wrist still in his hand, Ethan eyes Owen. Ethan pushes me away and I stumble to the ground, the hard cobblestone walkway lacerating my knees as I fall to the ground.

Skittering backward, I scratch my palms on the ground, getting out of their way. Owen twists Ethan’s arm behind his back and pushes him up against the door. “Tour’s over, asshole.” With a hard shove, Owen pushes his elbow into Ethan’s lower back. The scuffle has drawn the attention of a small work crew. Peter races over to Owen’s side, but not before Owen’s fist connects with Ethan’s jaw in a loud crack.

Handing Ethan over to Peter, Owen glowers at him. “I don’t ever want to see you around here again. Got it?” Ethan nods as he rubs over the spot where he was just punched. His eyes travel over to me on the ground. “Don’t even think about looking at her.” Owen steps in front of him, blocking me from Ethan’s view. “Pete, take the bastard out front. I’m calling the cops right now.”

Owen crouches down in front of me, sweeping my hair from my eyes. Though he’s gentle beyond all belief, even the slightest touch of his callous-roughened fingers across my slapped cheek causes me to pull back in pain. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Carefully, he tucks my hair behind my ear. Holding out his hand, he helps me up. That’s when I notice I must have twisted my ankle in the fall.

I stumble into his arms. Pain lances up my leg and the reality of the last half-hour comes barreling over me. Tears streak down my cheeks at the thought of what could have happened if Owen hadn’t found me.

Pulling me against his chest, Owen coos into my ear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” His calm, blue eyes scan my face. “Can you walk?”

I try a step, but the pain is too much. “I can’t. It hurts.”

Effortlessly, he scoops me up in his arms. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lean my head against his shoulder. As we make our way back into the office, Rosie sees us. Immediately frantic, she races to open the door for Owen. “What happened? Is she all right?” The questions fly out her mouth as she moves the pillows around on the small sofa in my office.

Owen gently places me on the couch. “She’s just fine,” he calms Rosie with just a few words. “Would you mind getting us some ice?” Before the question is even fully out of his mouth, Rosie is scurrying off to the small kitchenette. Owen heads out front to explain what happened to the cops. After they ask me a few questions, they take Ethan away and it’s just the two of us left alone together.

“Hey,” he tips my chin up when he’s sitting next to me, “are y

ou okay?” The concern in his voice isn’t lost on me.

Swiping away the few tears on my face, I nod and try for my brightest smile. When that falters, I laugh at myself. “I’m such a fool,” I scoff, recalling how Ethan was anything but a professional in the few encounters I had with him.

Rosie chooses that moment to walk back in the room. She hands one ice pack over to Owen, who gently props my ankle up on a pillow and rests the ice on top of it. With motherly gentleness, she presses the other ice pack up against my reddened cheek.

“What happened, Elle?” Rosie asks again.

Since the kitchenette is on the other side of the building, Rosie wouldn’t have seen the cops. Shooting Owen what I hope is my just-go-with-it face, I make up a story about getting my heel caught in the cobblestone and falling on my ass. “Luckily, Owen and Peter were passing by and saved my sorry ass.” The look of relief that passes over Rosie’s face at my explanation helps me relax a little. I know it’s a crappy thing to lie to her, but I hate to worry her. And honestly, with what Owen said to Ethan, I doubt he’ll be showing his face around here again.

Rosie looks torn between staying in the office and going back out to her desk to answer the ringing phone. Owen speaks for me as he walks Rosie to the door. “I promise I’ll take care of her. Can you just cancel whatever appointments she has for the rest of today and tomorrow, too?” Rosie nods and blows me a kiss, telling me to take it easy the rest of the afternoon.

As I shift in my seat, I wince in pain. Owen notices it and asks if he can get me any Advil.

The soft spot I have for him grows a little and I can’t stop myself from smiling. “That would be great. There’s some in the top drawer of my desk.”

When he comes back to the couch, he hands me two pills and glass of water. He doesn’t sit back down, though. Instead, he goes back over to the desk and pulls out the folders I was working on earlier. Moving the mouse around on the desk brings the computer back to life and I nearly spit out my water telling him to stop.

Before I can get the words out, he’s looking at the screen, a strange and far-away look on his face. Without an ounce of the care and concern he had earlier, he looks at me, his eyebrows pulled together in an angry scowl, his lips in a firm, mean line. “Find anything interesting?” he sneers.

“Owen, I can explain.” My attempts to explain anything are lost on his retreating back.

Chapter 7

Owen