I don’t know how this girl got under my skin so quickly. Before I know it, I’m chatting with her like we’re two old women having a hen party.

When she asks me why Oz chose me for the job, though, I’m caught off guard. Maybe it’s because she’s told me so much about her childhood. Listening to her talk about her ma and that made me think of my own ma back in Ireland. And what I left behind. Things I never think about anymore. Or try never to, anyway. Suddenly, it’s all right there in the front of my mind. Along with the knowledge that if I fuck this up and the law gets involved, it’s back to Ireland for me.

I crack open my beer and take a long drink. I can tell Isabel is looking at me but I ignore her. Instead, I finish my burger and reach for a second one. Chewing in silence, I will the girl to shut the hell up for the rest of the meal. But no such luck.

“So, do you really think my dad has something on you?” she asks cautiously after a couple of minutes.

“Mind yer own fuckin’ business,” I snap back. I expect her to cower, but to my surprise she stands firm.

“Thorn,” she sighs. “Why are you acting like such a jerk? You were being sort of nice there for like half a minute. I mean, nice for a glowering asshole, but still.”

“It’s not my job to be nice to you,” I retort.

“Your job!” she huffs. “Oh, for God’s sake. Look. The two of us are stuck here in this damn cabin for who knows how long. I don’t want to be here, and clearly you don’t, either. The least we could do is try to be civil to one another. But apparently, that’s way too hard for you.”

“No. The least we could do is stop fucking playing ‘getting to know you’ like we’re passing the time at the fuckin’ bus stop.” It comes out harsher than I intend, but too bad. I’ve let things get too friendly between us. Making her mad is probably for the best.

It works. “You know what?” Isabel snarls, her eyes flashing. “Fuck you! And fuck this. You clearly would rather eat without me, so go right ahead. I’m done!”

Slamming her beer bottle on the table, she pushes her chair back so hard it falls over. She jumps a little at the sound, but she’s not about to be deterred. She storms off in her stocking feet to the bedroom for the second time today, slamming the door loudly behind her.

I get up and follow her. Turning the knob, I push it back open. She rounds on me like a little spitfire.

“Door stays open,” I order.

“Fuck you!” she spits back.

I just laugh, even though part of me wants to wring her insolent neck.

I go outside to smoke and curse. I sit out on the porch for over an hour, staring daggers out at the darkness. A couple times, I think I hear movement inside. But when I go in to check on her, she’s still sitting on the bed, reading her ebook. Each time, she glowers at me like she wishes she could kill me with a look.

God damn it, she’s a pain in the ass.

God damn it, I want to fuck her.

This girl’s got me running in circles. She’s got an uncanny talent for getting under my skin. I blame myself in part, for letting myself listen to her talk about her childhood. I don’t need to know anything about her. The more human she is to me — the more I know about the person I’m trying to protect — the less effective I’ll be.

I’d have been able to protect Jimmy if he’d been a stranger to me. I’d have done what needed to be done, instead of standing around like a muppet.

I never thought I’d have to protect him — not like that. By the time I realized what was happening, I hesitated just a second too long. And by then it was too late.

The grief starts to seep in, cold as ice water in my veins. Angrily, I shake off the memories. I stand up on the porch and throw my now-empty bottle, as hard and as far as I can. I hear it land with a soft thud in the distance.

Then, nothing but silence. Just like before. And the tiniest whisper of the Connegut River, off in the distance. The silence reminds me that there’s no one else out here, except for me and Isabel.

And my fucking cock, screaming at me about what it wants to do.

After a while, I have to go back in to stoke the fire. The kitchen table is still set from dinner. I ignore it, go set another log on the flames. Then, with nothing else to fuckin’ do, I turn on the TV and stare at it with the sound off until I’m tired.

There’s only one bedroom, so I’ll be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future. Sighing in resignation, I grab a pillow and blanket from the low chest that serves as a coffee table. I wander into the bathroom to take a piss. Then I go to the bedroom to check on Isabel.

She’s asleep. Lying on top of the comforter. A cascade of hair falls around her face and shoulders.

I take a step closer. Then another. My boots sound on the wooden floor, but she’s too deep in to hear them. She’s positioned half on her side, her breasts rising and falling evenly with her breath.

Then I just stand there. Fuckin’ gobsmacked by how gorgeous she is. And how much I want to rip those clothes off her, and sink down onto the mattress next to her, and angry-fuck her until we’re both spent and panting.

I’ve never wanted a woman like this before. I’ve never wanted a woman who couldn’t easily be substituted for someone else. Isabel is pulling my insides to shreds. My cock aches. My chest aches. Everything fuckin’ aches.

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!

I don’t say it out loud, but inside my head, I’m screamin’ it. Why the fuck did Oz have to choose me for this job? Why the fuck can’t Isabel be his goddamn ninety year-old grandma, instead of his daughter?

Why the fuck indeed?

This is the worst job I’ve ever had in my life. Groaning, I bend forward and say her name, trying to rouse her. She doesn’t stir. I say it again, louder this time. Still nothing. Finally, I reach out, touching her shoulder, and shake her a bit.

“Mmmph… what?” she mumbles.

“Wake up,” I mutter.

“Why?”

Her tone is already different. She’s woken up and realized where she is, and that it’s me talking to her. She sounds hostile now. Guarded.

“I need to tie you up.”

“What? Seriously?”

Isabel hauls herself up onto her elbow and looks at me in stunned disbelief. “You’re going to tie me to the bed?”

“I am.”

“I think you’re taking your paranoia a bit too far.”

“Not interested in what you think.”

“What if I refuse?” she challenges me.

“If you refuse, I’ll have to tie you down by force.” My dick jumps at the thought, and a whole new series of images pops into my head to torture me tonight while I’m trying to sleep.

“I’m not scared of you!” Isabel says defiantly.

“Well, you fuckin’ well should be!” I mean it, too. Right now, I’m angry enough that if I have to take her by force, I’ll hurt her. I almost want her to push me. Push me past my limits, little girl. Push me past the point where I can control myself. Do it.

She gives me a long look, her face flushed with anger and her chest heaving. For a second, I almost convince myself she’s thinking the same thing I am.

Her eyes still locked on mine, she flops dramatically back on the bed and flings her arms and legs out, like the starfish that’s hanging around her neck. I grunt and go out to grab the rope. When I come back in, I start on her left leg, tying a knot securely around her ankle and then to the post. I move to the other leg. As I’m securing the rope around her right ankle, Isabel jerks slightly and lets out a whimper. I glance up at her face.

“My knee still hurts from before,” she says quietly.

I remember how swollen and purple it was last night when we got here. “Sorry,” I mutter in spite of myself. After that, I work a little more carefully. When I’ve finished with that leg, I move up to her arms. I sit down on the mattress next to her and fix her expectantly with my gaze. Isabel gives me a sour look and hands me her right wrist. I wrap the rope around it, noting that the redness and scratches from the zip ties are mostly gone now.

Isabel’s skin is soft, and warm. Her wrists are small, so small I can wrap my thumb and little finger around them easily. Isabel continues to stare at me, a challenge in her eyes, as I finish the knot and play the length of rope out enough so she’ll be able to move around a little.

“I don’t sleep on my back,” she says.

“You’ll learn.”

I reach across her body for her other arm. The movement brings me closer to Isabel’s face — close enough that I can’t help but meet her eyes for a second. They bore into mine.

Isabel licks her lips nervously.

“I’m cold,” she whispers. “I’ll be too cold to sleep.”

Resisting the urge to swear, I stand up and reach underneath her. I lift her up around her waist and pull the bedcovers from underneath her body. The contact makes my already hard cock feel like it’s going to rip out of my jeans. She wriggles a little, trying to help me get the covers out, but it just makes it worse as she brushes against me. I just manage to stifle a groan as I drop her back onto the bed and toss the bedspread and quilt over her. Standing abruptly, I cross to the other side of the bed to tie her second hand.

“There,” I grit out, my jaw tense. “You’ll just have to manage like that. I’ll be out on the couch.” I flash her a glare. “Go to sleep.”

I don’t wait for an answer. I can’t. Instead, I go back out into the living room, turn out all the lights, and stare at the fire half-wishing it would consume me as I wait for the agony to subside.