Page 6 of Out on a Limb

His bed? Did he say this is his bed?

…Oh, shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

“You can put the lamp down.” The man’s voice is rough and husky, like he hasn’t spoken much lately. His mouth hooks up on one side, fighting a grin. “Let’s not add murder to your list of crimes.”

Crimes!

My fingers flex against the lamp, testing my grip, but my palms are clammy. Reason is finally catching up with me, and when I blink at this stranger, I see him more clearly too.

The beard; the tanned, wind-beaten face; the slightly gaunt cheekbones that say this man has pushed his body to the edge recently. His salt-stained gray t-shirt and dark hiking pants, with well-worn boots on his feet.

The prodigal adventurer has returned.

“Oh, god.” One wobbly arm returns the bedside lamp to the nightstand, and then I tug my pajamas straight, feeling like the world’s biggest ass. “I thought… I thought you were dead.”

The adventurer’s pale blue eyes sparkle with humor, and shoot, at least one of us finds this funny. Though what kind of crazy person enjoys a situation like this, finding a stranger in their cabin?

The same kind who enjoys perilous mountain climbs and river runs, I guess. Flirting with danger for the fun of it.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he says, tone teasing. “Though you nearly finished the job with that lamp.”

“Ugh.” Can’t even bring myself to look at the lamp in question now, not with cold reality slapping me in the face and an immediate future in a jail cell stretching out in front of me. What have I done? How could I be so reckless? “Shit. I’m so, so sorry.”

Digging my knuckles into my eyes, I suck in a shaky breath. There’s no running from this; no fleeing the scene even if I wanted to. All my belongings are spread around this cabin, and plenty of people in town know I moved myself in here. I’m toast.

Besides, I don’t believe in running from things. I’ve always owned up to my actions, even the stupid ones, and I’m not gonna stop that now.

Lord knows I have plenty of practice with being a screw up.

“I’ll clean before the cops arrive.” Dropping my hands, I start scooting my butt to the edge of the bed. Can’t meet the adventurer’s gaze, not with all this shame slithering in my belly. “If you give me ten minutes before you call them, that should give me time to sweep up all the feathers and broken plastic.”

“Cops?” The adventurer jolts forward, shooing me back into the center of the bed. “Hey, stop that. You’ve got bare feet! I’ll sweep up.”

A laugh bursts out of me, strangled and high-pitched. “You’re not cleaning up the mess I made in your cabin. Absolutely not.”

He gives me a faux-stern look before marching over to the kitchen, leaning down to rummage beneath the sink for a dustpan and brush. “Watch me.”

“There’s a bigger broom propped by the wall,” I call weakly. “On the left. Yeah, there.”

And… okay, sure. It’s hard not to watch this man as he sweeps up my mess, plastic fragments clinking against the floorboards. There’s so much confident power in the way he moves, like he’s completely at home in his big, strong body. Like he always knows exactly where all his limbs are at all times, and trusts them to behave. I cannot relate.

“It’s Stig, by the way.” The adventurer glances up at me as he sweeps, smiling when he finds me watching him as instructed. Is it my imagination, or do his muscles flex beneath his shirt? “Stig Hansen. Just in case you’re wondering who you tried to brain with a lamp.”

My nose wrinkles. “I am sorry about that.”

“Oh, don’t be. I liked it.”

This man is nuts.

“Well, I’m Jana Kumara. You know, if you need my full name to fill out a police report.”

“I won’t. Hi, Jana.”

I wave back weakly. “Hi.”

And lord, this must be the weirdest first meeting I’ve ever had with another person. I keep pinching myself through my pajama pants, hot pain blooming on my thigh, but no, it’s definitely real.

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