Rough Deal (Coming Home to the Mountain)

I want this feeling to last. It's been so long since I felt good.

But Rye pulls away. “I can't,” he groans. “We can't.” He looks at me, tortured. His eyes are bloodshot and he rakes a hand through his hair. “Prairie,” he says, scooping me up in his arms. He's holding me, but he's not kissing me.

He's pressing a hand to his cock, as if willing his hard-on to fade. “I want you,” he says. “I want you bad. But we can't do this. We need to get you down this mountain. I need to take you home.”

5

RYE

As much as I want to sit here in this cabin, kissing—among other things—Prairie all the damn day, I know that I can't. I need to get her down this mountain and get her into urgent care.

And I need to call my brother Graham on the way down so he can get police officers up to the cabin where she was held captive.

“Prairie,” I say. “I know you want to stay here, and that the cabin is finally warming up and I'm guessing you aren't up for a long day of travel. But darlin’, I can't keep you here. You need to go to the police.”

She presses her lips together. Taking in my words. “I'm glad you're the voice of reason,” she says softly. “I feel all mixed up. And I can imagine myself getting in a warm bath and falling asleep and not waking up for a week. And oh, if there is a big warm bed here? I can imagine lying in it with you for days, weeks on end.”

I close my eyes for a moment. Just imagining that this beautiful woman, with the body of an angel, with the eyes of my soulmate, was in bed with me.

I open them though, needing to ground myself in reality.

“Prairie, as much as I want to get swept away in that fantasy, we can't do that right now. We got to go. We have to be responsible.”

“Are you always so reliable?” she asks me.

I shake my head, thinking about the last year and how my family thinks I’m anything but responsible and reliable. They think I'm a goddamn ass. Prairie sees the best in me, the true me.

But Prairie only knows me as the man I am right now. In this moment.

“Prairie, why don't we eat something, and I'll let the fire die down and then we'll get in the truck. Okay? We'll head back down the mountain. And in a few hours, I'll have good reception and I'll be able to call the police and let them know to expect us. You think you can handle all that?”

She nods. “With you by my side, I feel like I can handle anything.”

“How are you so confident with a man you just met?” I ask her.

She runs her hand through my hair, cupping my cheek. Her thumb running across the rough skin under my eyes.

“I just know that you're mine,” she says. “I told you I was dreaming about you. And I believe in fate. I believe that there's light after dark, that good wins out over evil.”

“You're this optimistic after everything that happened to you?” I ask, shaking my head, wondering how anyone can be so good. So pure.

She smiles softly. “Rye,” she says, “I'm choosing to believe all those things. Because if I didn't, those years I was locked up in that cabin, I don't think I could have gotten through them. I don't think I could have survived if I gave in to the pain. I had to stay in the light.”

I take her hand and squeeze it tight and fuck, it feels good to be grounded in someone so pure.

It's what I need.

She is what I need.

Thirty minutes later we're in my truck. The cabin’s all locked up and emptied out.

I can't imagine us coming back here anytime soon, considering the hell she went through less than five miles away.

When I start driving, she begins to marvel at all the tiny little details that I take for granted.

The leather seats of my truck, the electric windows, the heat.

“Damn,” I say. “I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through.”