Chapter Six
Mia
Noise. Someone is yelling.
“Shhh,” I grumble, burying my head into the pillow.
Still yelling.
“What in the world…?” I roll over, blinking open my eyes to the dim light coming in through the drapes.
Who is yelling? It’s coming from outside.
My heart pauses.
Forbes. Has he found me?
My pulse starts to thrum, setting my body on high alert.
Sitting bolt upright in bed, I listen.
It’s definitely a guy’s voice … but no, it’s not Forbes. I’d know his voice anywhere.
I breathe a sigh of relief, laying back down.
I’m figuring it must be Jordan. I wonder what he’s yelling about.
Glancing over at the clock, I see it’s 10am.
I reach for the glass of water on the bedside cabinet and take a sip. My throat is sore. I went hard on myself last night.
I look down at my right hand – the hand which helps me purge all of my grief and self-loathing. It’s sore and itchy. I rub my finger over the calluses on my knuckles, trying to relieve the itch. They’re caused by the catching of my teeth on my skin; years and years of making myself throw up have caused this scarring.
I’m thinking about getting some cream from my bag to ease the itch when I hear Jordan call out again.
Curiosity gets the better of me, so I climb out of bed and pad my way over to the sliding doors, grabbing my sunglasses on the way and slipping them on.
I pull the drapes back, unlock the door, and step out onto the porch.
The first thing I see is the lake. Guess this why it’s called the Lakeview room. The view is gorgeous.
Jordan yells again, so unexpected and so loud that I nearly jump out of my skin.
He’s a lot closer than I realized.
With a racing heart, I approach the railing and lean over to see what he’s yelling about.
My eyes find Jordan about twenty feet from the where I stand. His back is to me. He’s wearing black work boots, dark blue jeans, and a short-sleeved black t-shirt that shows the defined contours of his shoulders and arms perfectly.
He lifts a hand to his hair. The muscles in his arm flex under his tattoos as he runs his fingers through the dark strands. His hair looks so soft…
An image of me running my fingers through his hair flashes through my mind. I blink myself free.
He turns a little my way, lifting his hands to his mouth, he cups them and yells, what I think is, “Dozer!”
“Everything okay?” I call out.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” He spins on the spot hands clenched by his sides. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry.” I step back from the railing, but keep hold of it. My eyes are trained on his closed fists. “I just, uh, heard you yelling. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” My mouth is nervous dry, so I moisten my lips with my tongue.
His eyes flicker down to his hands, then back up to me.
I see his hands relax, and he flexes his fingers out. “Sorry, yeah, I uh…” He looks over his shoulder, then back to me. “I can’t find my dog.”
He’s got a dog? I love dogs. Never had one, always wanted one.
“I let him out earlier, and he’s gone. He’s never disappeared like this before. He never strays far from the hotel.”
He sounds really worried.
“You need help looking for him?” The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to consider them.
Jordan shoves his hands in his back pockets and looks down at his boots. He seems to be contemplating my offer. So am I.
What the hell possessed me to say that?
Jesus, am I that damaged that the thought of spending a little time with this seemingly okay guy to help him find his dog is so bad to comprehend?
Yes. Yes, I absolutely am.
Freeing a hand, Jordan holds his hair back from his face, tilts his head back, and stares up at me. “Sure.” He nods. “If you don’t mind.”
It’s not like I can retract my offer now.
“Of course I don’t mind.” I smile, ignoring the twinge of nerves in my stomach. “Just give me a minute to change and I’ll be right down.”
I retreat back into my room, shutting the sliding door behind me.
Standing still for a moment, I close my eyes and take in a deep, calming breath.
I can do this.
Then I open my eyes and quickly change into jeans and a t-shirt. I give my teeth a brush, slip my feet into my sneakers, run my fingers through my hair to tidy it—the beauty of short hair—and slip my sunglasses back on.
I quickly make my way through reception and out the main entrance. I walk around the hotel and find Jordan a little farther on.
I jog over to him. “Still no luck?”
“No.” He pushes his hair back, revealing his eyes.
Maple syrup. Stunning.
“He never disappears like this,” he reiterates.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find him. What’s his name?”
“Dozer.”
Interesting name.
“Where do you want me to look?”
He points to the woods before us. “I’ve looked everywhere else. He wouldn’t normally go in there alone – he’s not real big on the woods, but maybe he was chasing a rabbit or something…” he trails off.
He wants me to go in there? With him.
Anxiety clamps down on my chest like a vice.
There’s something about the solitude of the woods and Jordan combined that isn’t sitting well with me.
Stop being a coward.
“Okay.” I swallow. “The woods it is.”
We walk quietly side by side heading for the trees.
“What kind of dog is he?” I ask, trying to occupy my overactive brain.
“A Mastiff—Dozer!” he calls out just as we break through the trees.
Copying him, I cup my hands around my mouth and call out, “Dozer!”
My voice echoes through the trees, chasing Jordan’s echo.
We both listen for a return of sound in the form of a bark, but nothing comes.
We walk on a little farther as Jordan and I continue to take turns calling for Dozer.
After a few minutes of walking and still no sign of the dog, I pick up on the sound of passing traffic.
“Are we close to a road?” I ask.
The look on his face – realization, then complete panic. It makes me panic.
Jordan breaks off in a sprint. I run after him, trying to keep up, but his legs are longer than mine and he’s a hell of a lot faster.
I finally catch up to him close to a clearing. He’s looking around, frantically calling for Dozer.
I’m seriously out of breath and have a stitch. I’m not the fittest of people.
Bending over, I brace my hands on my thighs as I try to catch my breath.
The sound of traffic is a lot louder up here, meaning we’re really close to the road.
Holding my quickened breaths, I stand up straight, and try to focus my hearing on any sound that could be related to a dog.
Nothing.
“How about you go that way,” I suggest, pointing to Jordan’s right. “And I’ll go this way.” I tilt my head to the left.
“Okay.” He takes a step back. “Just yell out if you find him. I’ll hear you.”
“I will … and I’m sure he’s fine, Jordan.”
He nods again, then turns, quickly walking away.
I turn, and start walking. “Dozer!” I call out.
Another car whizzes past.
I walk on a little farther in the silence, looking around for any signs. Then I call out his name again.
That’s when I hear a whimper. It’s quiet, but I definitely hear something.
My heart starts to beat faster. “Dozer!” I call out again.
A whine.
Following the sound, I move closer to the clearing … and that’s when I see him – a huge, fawn Mastiff laid over by a tree.
I run to him, yelling at the top of my lungs for Jordan, hoping to god he hears me.
I drop to my knees beside Dozer. He’s panting, chest heaving up and down, his body trembling.
“Oh my god, your poor boy. You’re gonna be okay, Dozer.” I hover my hands over him, unsure whether to touch him or not. I’m guessing he was hit by a car and crawled his way back here.
“I’m Mia. I’ve been helping Jordan look for you. He’s been really worried.”
Dozer lifts his head a little. Big brown eyes stare blankly up at me.
I should check him for injuries.
“Okay, Dozer, I’m not a vet, but I’m well on my way to becoming a doctor, and my father was a doctor, so I know what I’m doing. I’m gonna check you over, see what’s going on with you. That okay? Not that you can answer me…”
Great, now I’m rambling to a dog.
Dozer lays his head back down and closes his eyes, so I take that as a yes.
I push my sunglasses up onto my head so I can see clear to begin assessing his injuries. I don’t know anything about dogs, but I’m guessing they don’t work much differently than people.
With care, I lay my hand on Dozer’s trembling body, and that’s when Jordan lands on his knees beside me.
“Shit, Dozer! You okay, buddy?”
Dozer grumbles a sound.
“I think a car hit him,” I say.
He stares at me for a long moment. Incredulity, anger and a few other emotions I can’t quite grasp pass over his face.
“Motherfucker!” He shakes his head, roughly. “When I find out who did this … fuck!”
I try not to flinch at his anger.
It’s not directed at you. He’s right to be angry. Someone just hurt his dog.
“We need to get him to a vet,” Jordan says with urgency.
But all I can focus on is the anger in his voice, and the physical tension that’s vibrating off him. It’s taking everything in me not to run.
I need a way to hold my calm.
So I switch into my trained mode, turn every emotion off. It’s the only way I can deal.
“Just let me check him over first. See if it’s safe to move him.” My voice sounds robotic. I hate when I sound this way.
Ignoring Jordan’s questioning stare, I run my hands over Dozer, checking for contusions, possible fractures, and internal bleeding.
Dozer yelps when my hand touches his front right leg.
I lean closer, getting a good look at the leg. There’s a disjoint in the bone. Definite fracture. Possibly more than one. No blood or signs of protrusion, which is good. It means the bone hasn’t broken the skin.
I haven’t come across any indication of internal bleeding, so I’d say this broken leg is the worst of it.
“His leg is broken,” I say, resting back on my haunches. “There’s some swelling around the ribcage, no cracks from what I can tell. I think he’s just going to have one hell of a bruise there. I think the car must have clipped him.” I glance at Jordan. His eyes are wide on my face, scrutinizing me.
Ignoring his gaze, I look back to Dozer. “We can move him, but getting him back to the hotel and to your car isn’t an option. He’s too big to carry that far.”
“I can do it,” Jordan asserts.
“Maybe so, but it’ll be really painful for him if you do. Can you go get your car and drive it to the road just up ahead? You can move him from here to there with much less pain to him.”
Jordan looks between the dog and me, his brow furrowed. “You’ll stay here with him?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be back in five.” Jordan jumps to his feet in one swift move, and takes off running back the way we came.
“Not long now, boy.” I stroke Dozer’s ear. “Jordan will get his car, and we’ll get you to a vet. You’ll be feeling better in no time.”
Leaning forward, I take another look at Dozer’s leg. I really should strap it up; it’ll make it less painful for when we move him.
I glance around, looking for a suitable splint. I spot a stick at just the right length, so I crawl over and grab it.
Using my teeth, I bite and gnaw at the hem of my t-shirt. I manage to get a small tear—thank you cheap material—then using teeth and hands, I pull against the fabric, tearing upward. I stop a good few inches below my breasts. I secure the fabric to my chest by placing my arm under my breasts. Holding the t-shirt in place, I start to tear across.
When I’m done, I have enough t-shirt to cover my breasts, and enough material to strap up Dozer’s leg.
“Okay, Dozer. I’m going to strap your leg up with this stick, and what was my t-shirt.”
Brown eyes stare up at me unhappily.
“I won’t lie to you – it’s gonna hurt, but I’ll be real quick, I promise.”
Dozer closes his eyes and huffs out a sigh.
I don’t think he’ll bite me as he’s in too much pain, but I’m edging on the side of caution here because he’s a huge frigging dog. He could take my hand off.
Carefully, I take hold of his broken leg. He growls, baring his teeth. I pause, his leg in my hand.
“I’m helping, Dozer. Remember that before you decide to sink your teeth into me, okay?”
He makes no other sound. Just huffs out a breath and his lips slacken, covering his teeth.
I take a deep breath, and try again. “I’m gonna have to straighten your leg a little … you ready? Done.” He growls again, and I realize it’s not at me but at the pain.
“Well done.” I exhale. My heart is pounding solid against my ribs.
I pick up the splint and place it against the back of his leg. I grab the material, and start to wrap it around the make-shift splint, tight enough to hold his leg.
When I’m done, I rip the end of it the fabric with my teeth again, giving me a tie. I wrap one side around, then fasten it with the other into a knot.
Setting his leg down, I puff out a breath. “Well done, Dozer.” I pat him.
A minute later, I hear the roar of an engine. Assuming it’s Jordan, I get to my feet, brushing dirt and twigs from my knees.
“I’ll just be a second,” I say.
I step through the clearing and into view of the road. The red Mustang from the hotel is coming toward me.
Jordan pulls to a quick stop beside me. He jumps out of the car. “How’s he doing?”
“In pain, but he’s doing good.” I follow behind.
Jordan crouches down beside Dozer. “Hey boy. Gonna get you to the vet now.”
He carefully slides his hands under Dozer, then in one swift move, and with minimum effort, Jordan lifts Dozer and stands with him in his arms.
Wow.
That is one huge dog. He must weigh one sixty at least.
Jordan is a lot stronger than he looks. Not that he looks wimpy because he doesn’t. Nope. Not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’s definitely all man. He’s just not muscular in a bodybuilder sense. More in an athletic, defined, toned kind of way. Well, from what I can tell through his clothes, anyway.
Jordan looks exactly how a guy should look … says me and my vastly inexperienced knowledge of men.
The only male body I have ever known is Forbes, and he’s built like a linebacker. Complete opposite to Jordan.
But I prefer Jordan’s physic. It’s just … perfect.
As I stare at him, my mind wanders to fantasy…
Jordan lifting me into his arms. Me wrapping my legs around his waist. Him pressing me up against a tree, crushing his lips to mine. His hand moving lower, between my legs, touching me in just the right place…
“You coming?”
Coming?
“What?”
I look up at his face. He’s staring down at me. Brow furrowed. Dozer still in his arms.
Dog. Hit. By. Car.
Going to the vets.
“Oh, uh, yes. Yes, I’m coming. With you.”
Oh god.
Way to go, Mia. Get turned on from watching the hot guy carrying his injured dog.
This is not me at all. But around Jordan, my state of normal no longer seems to exist.
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
With embarrassment flooding my cheeks, I jog on ahead to the car.
Reaching it first, I open the passenger door, and pull the seat forward, giving Jordan access to the backseat. It’s a two door car, so Jordan could have a task getting Dozer in, but he manages it with minimal fuss.
“I’ll sit in the back with him,” I say, hand on the car roof, foot in the door, ready to climb in.
I see Jordan’s eyes making quick work of my torn t-shirt. They settle on my face. He frowns.
My black eye. Shit.
I slide my sunglasses down covering my shame.
“You fixed his leg up.” His eyes are still on my face.
“I did.”
“Thank you.”
Ducking my head, I climb in the backseat and sit in the small space that Dozer isn’t occupying.
Jordan shifts the seat back to its place, then closes the door behind me and makes his way to the driver’s side.
I put my seat belt on, then carefully lift Dozer’s head and rest it on my thigh.
“You’re gonna be just fine, Dozer.”
I press my hand against his chest and begin timing his heartbeats. I want to make sure he’s doing okay, but I also to keep myself busy. I need something to focus on right now.
Jordan spins the car around. I feel the quick acceleration pushing me back into the seat as he speeds us off in the direction of the vets.