Page 7 of Backwater Bachelor

As she crosses the room to get dressed, I turn away, giving her some privacy, but it’s hard to ignore the way my heart races. I hear her moving behind me, the rustle of the towel and the soft sounds of fabric.

I swallow hard, and squeeze my eyes. Squeeze my fists when the thought of holding her body in my hands becomes too much.

When she’s done, she taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to face her. The clothes are too big, but she looks beautiful, radiant even, in their simplicity. The oversized T-shirt falls to mid-thigh, and she’s rolled up the sleeves of the sweatpants to keep them from dragging.

“These are perfect,” she says, looking down at herself with a small laugh.

“Glad they fit,” I reply, my voice a bit rough around the edges. I clear my throat. “You hungry? I can whip up something quick.”

“Starving,” she says, settling back onto the couch.

As I move around the small kitchen area, preparing a simple meal, I steal glances at her, wondering how someone like her ended up here, with someone like me. The ease with which she fits into this place, into my life, makes me feel like she’s the missing piece in a puzzle I didn’t even know I was concerned with.

Dinner’s a casual affair, and we talk and laugh as if we’ve known each other forever. But as the evening wears on, I feel a growing reluctance to see her go. The idea of this night ending, of her walking out the door and back to her life, feels wrong. And it’s not about the fact that life can get lonely out here. It’s her. Just her.

As we finish eating, she leans back with a contented sigh. “This has been really great.”

“I’m glad you came,” I say honestly. “It’s not often I have company out here. Especially not company I enjoy this much.”

”Sure hope so,” she teases and her eyes glitter with mirth. ”I like to think I’m special.”

She is, that she definitely is. And I’d kill to have her spend the night.

7.

Jane

Danny stands up, announcing that he’s going to take a quick shower, I find myself smiling at him, unable to hide the growing attraction I feel anymore. He’s so different from the guys at work—nice, kind, and genuine. There’s something about his easy-going nature and the way he’s made me feel welcome that makes me feel like I could put my life in his hands and he’d take care of it.

“Make yourself at home,” he says with a grin before disappearing into the bathroom.

I lean back on the couch, listening to the sound of the water running and feeling oddly content here in the swamp. Who would have thought? I’m a city girl through and through, but there’s something about this place, about Danny, that makes me feel right at… home.

I decide to take a look around while Danny’s showering. I start with his bookshelf, running my fingers over the spines of various titles. He has a good mix—mystery novels, nature guides, and even some classics. I pull out a well-worn copy of “The Donkey Prince” and smile. Good taste.

Next, I move to his clothes, neatly folded and stored. Practical, simple, and well-kept. No surprises there. But then something catches my eye—a small, locked cabinet. I hesitate for a moment, then gently pull it open. Inside, I find a surprisingly extensive knife collection. Each knife is carefully placed, polished, and well-maintained. It’s an impressive collection, but it sends a shiver down my spine.

I close the cabinet, feeling a mix of curiosity and caution. As I turn away, my gaze lands on a stack of papers on a nearby shelf. I sift through them, finding nothing unusual until a newspaper clipping slips out. My heart skips a beat as I pick it up and read the headline: "Local Man Suspected in Murder Investigation."

My breath catches in my throat. The article is not that old, not yet yellowed with age, and there’s a photo of Danny beneath the bold print. The article details an incident that happened years ago, in which Danny was a suspect in a murder case that happened in the swamp.

I feel a rush of conflicting emotions—shock, fear, confusion. Danny-sweet, sweet Danny was once accused of murder? And he saved the newspaper clip. What does he do with it? Looks at it every once in a while as some kind of a sadist?

The sound of the shower stops, jolting me back to the present. I hastily put the clipping back where I found it and sit back down on the couch, trying to compose myself. My mind is racing, and I can’t shake the image of that newspaper article.

Danny steps out of the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel draped over his shoulders. He smiles when he sees me, and for a moment, I see only the Danny I’ve come to know today—the one who’s made me laugh, who’s been nothing but kind and considerate.

“Feel better?” I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

“Much,” he replies, drying his messy hair. “Thanks for waiting.”

“No problem,” I say, forcing a smile. “I was just thinking how lonely it must be sometime living out here all on your own. With not a single neighbor around.”

He chuckles. “You could say that. But I rarely get bored. The swamp’s full of surprises.”

I nod, my mind racing. I want to ask him about the clipping, to understand what really happened, but I don’t know how to bring it up. Instead, I stand and move to the window, looking out at the darkening swamp.

“You seem a little tense,” Danny says and I shift. His eyes darken, just like the deep, deadly swamp. ”Something wrong?”

---