Mr. So Wrong

How the hell did I end up in bed with this blonde? I stare at her a moment and take her in. She’s young, which gets my heart hammering in a bad way because she looks too young. I hope she’s legal. Negative thoughts roll through my mind. I do everything wrong. I can’t even drive to a fucking cabin in Colorado to see my baby sister without fucking up.  

“Sam, dammit! It’s already five-thirty,” an old, deep, crackly voice echoes through the house. At least I think it’s a house. This room has a large window. I spot a barn in the distance.  

The woman begins to shift a little before opening her eyes. I watch her, taking in her features: short blond hair and kind eyes that are the type of blue you’d see on a ship in the middle of the Mediterranean sea—dark blue with swirls of a lighter blue running through them closer to her irises.

Her gaze lands on me and she startles and shoots up to a sitting position. “Shit! I must have slept in,” she says to the air in front of her.

She rubs her eyes and looks at me without startling, like she was expecting me here. “Oh thank goodness you aren’t dead.” She blows out a cleansing breath and holds her heart.

 Before I can get a word in she whips the covers off her. Her eyes turn wide as she looks down to her half-naked body, possibly realizing she is in fact only wearing a bra and panties. She quickly grabs the sheet under the blankets and looks up to me to see if I’ve caught a glimpse. In my defense, I wasn’t expecting her to just throw the blankets off herself. Her pale cheeks redden. She stands from the bed as if the embarrassing moment has passed in a flash and begins to move rapidly around the room. I’m dizzy watching her.

 “You crazy or something?” She stops suddenly and gives me an expectant look.

“What do you mean?” I ask, clearly confused.

“I mean are you okay in the head?” I’ve never been asked a question like this before. I don’t have an answer for her.

She grabs a new pair of underwear and bra out of a drawer then pauses to look at me. She’s waiting for an answer. Was that even a real question? When I don’t answer, she drops the bra and panties on the bed and stalks over to me, placing her palm on my forehead. She goes from investigating me to sweetness in a nanosecond.

“How you feeling, darling?” she asks with a bit of an accent. Her voice is sweet and caring. It triggers my memory and details of last night come back to me.

 My car must have run out of gas after I took the sleeping pill. Fuck! Of all the stupid things I’ve done, this one tops the list. She got me out of the car and brought me here. My body felt cold … I was so out of it I could barely walk, but for some reason I remember that sweet voice of hers calling me darling. She took care of me.

“Shit, you’re burning up.” She turns to look out the window. “Snow isn’t going to let up for the next few days. You should get back into bed and I’ll bring you some Tylenol,” she says and she doesn’t wait for me to answer. Better yet, I don’t understand why she’d want to take care of a complete stranger. “You don’t say much, do you?” she asks while her blue eyes stare at me.

She holds the blanket up in front of her half-naked body. A body I got a peek of this morning. I now know she has voluptuous breasts, curvy hips, and a fine ass.     

“Sorry.” My voice comes out scratchy and quiet. “I’m not feeling too well.” I hold my throat. “I want to thank you for saving my ass out there last night.”

She eyes me as if she’s trying to get in my head. “You on drugs or something? You sure didn’t smell like alcohol. If it’s drugs … I’m sorry I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” Her head tilts to the side in an assessing way.

“No, I don’t do drugs. I took a sleeping pill. I’ve had some troubles these last few months and can’t sleep. I thought if I got a few hours of shut eye it would clear my head, the snow would stop, and I’d make it out to my sister’s cabin,” I explain, still holding my throat. I feel weak and woozy.

“It’s gonna snow hard for days. We won’t be able to get that car of yours out of the ditch until the snow slows,” she begins to explain.

Someone is going to steal my car or part her out. She’s the only thing I have left that’s actually worth something.

“Um … it was kind of you to bring me to your home. I should leave and figure things out,” I say and stand up from the bed. My lightheadedness causes me to sway.

She stands in front of me, and I get a closer look at her. She’s beautiful. “You’re too sick to go anywhere.” Her hand lands on my shoulder and our eyes meet. It looks like her breath hitches and before I can say anything else, she pulls her gaze from me and directs my body to the bed. “Stay in bed. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you,” she says, and I see a sadness hanging heavy in those blue eyes.  

My brows furrow. “You don’t know me.”  Was this girl fucking crazy? She was beautiful, but she must be out of her damn mind to insist a complete stranger stay in her bed.

“So?” She shrugs. Yup, she’s a looney.

“That isn’t an answer.” I scrub my fingers on the morning scruff of my chin. “You’re a beautiful woman. You shouldn’t allow a random stranger to sleep in your bed. That’s dangerous.” My tone almost sounds parental. If I wasn’t feeling so bad, I would be inclined to laugh at myself.

Her throat bobs and the palm of her hand lands on her chest. My eyes drop to her chest before looking back up to her eyes. “You think I’m beautiful?” she asks and her brows raise. She looks at me like I’m an alien. She’s definitely confusing, and I thought I was good at reading women.

“That isn’t the point. You don’t have any clothes on and you don’t know me.” I continue to lecture her, unsure where any of my need to protect this girl comes from. Maybe because she looks so young. Fuck! My brows dip together. That’s all I need is to be caught in bed with an underage girl. “How old are you anyway?” I ask. My head is throbbing, but I need to get this squared away. Even with sickness, she’s causing my dick to harden at half-mast.

“Twenty-three,” she says, but it sounds more like a question.

I exhale.  “Phew.”

“Huh? Look, mister. If you’re crazy or want to hurt me, you should leave,” she says, still holding that blanket up in front of her body. It makes her look vulnerable and I don’t like it one bit.

“And if I told you I was crazy and wanted to hurt you, what would you do?” I ask just to test her. I don’t even know why I’m bothering other than her naiveté pisses me off.

“I’d grab the gun I have tucked away and shoot you.” She looks me square in the eyes when she says those words, and I swear my dick twitches. Maybe I’m a sick fuck or just turned on by her no bullshit personality.

“Try me,” I challenge her. Fuck, what am I thinking? It must be my fever. That, or I have a death wish.

I move slowly toward her because I can’t handle fast right now. She moves so quickly I’ve barely blinked, and she has a shotgun pressed between my eyes.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I murmur. This is a dream. A sick fucking dream.