Page 19

Talk about a recipe for disaster.
Yep, it was well past time for her to see a shrink. Doug and Maya had been right all along. She needed psychological help. Some way of getting over this ridiculous fantasy that her love could turn Owen away from his life of crime.
Reality wasn’t a sappy movie on TV. The sooner she accepted that Owen preferred his life as an outlaw to being with her, the better.
“What did that sign say?” She twisted in her seat trying to read the words as they passed by. “Something about a Boulder?”
“Boulder Junction. I think it’s a small town roughly twenty miles from here.” He waved a hand. “It’s unincorporated, so I don’t think it’s very big. But I did see a sign for a Boulder Junction campground. There may be other options available too. It might be smart to stop there for the night.”
“Okay.” She wondered if Owen would be there come morning. Probably not. She stroked Bear’s fur. The puppy had woken from his nap and was climbing over her again. He nipped at her shirt, so she gave him the crushed water bottle to gnaw on. What they needed were actual chew toys made specifically for dogs.
But that would have to wait until Doug came to pick her up.
Five minutes passed when Owen pulled off to the side of the road. He shifted into park and killed the engine.
“What’s going on?” They were in the middle of nowhere as far as she could tell.
“Truck is overheating.” He sounded grim. “We need to let the engine cool off.”
Bear pawed at the window, much the way he had earlier. She pushed open her door, shoving the brush back far enough so she could get out. She carried Bear to a small clearing and set him down.
He ran round, sniffing intently for several minutes before getting down to business. As before, she lavished him with praise.
“Good boy, you’re such a good boy!” She swooped him up, kissed his head, and laughed when he licked her cheek. Then she set him down again. “Go on, play for a bit. Looks like we’re not going anywhere for a while.”
She glanced over to find Owen making his way deeper into the woods. Understanding he needed privacy, she stayed where she was, enjoying Bear’s antics.
The sun had begun its descent and was mostly hidden behind the mountain. There was enough light to see for now, but she knew they only had another hour of daylight left. Maybe less. The leafy trees overhead made it seem later.
She wouldn’t be with Owen for much longer. She knew that when they reached Boulder Junction, he’d make her stay behind.
It was for the best. For both of them.
A few minutes later, Owen returned. She’d noticed he had a water bottle in hand filled with water tinged with sentiment. “Did you find a creek?”
“Yeah.” He moved to the truck hood, placed his hand on the top, then snatched it back. “I didn’t want to waste our good water to fill the radiator.”
“What makes you think it’s leaking?” She knew nothing about cars.
“I don’t know for sure, but the engine keeps overheating.” He shrugged. “I never worked on cars the way my brother did. I was more of a construction guy.”
He was? She appreciated the insight into his past, which only made her wonder for the zillionth time why he’d gotten involved in dealing drugs. “Too bad your brother isn’t here to help us.”
“He’s dead.” Owen’s dark tone did not invite questions. “The car engine needs more time to cool down. If you need to, uh”—he waved helplessly at the woods—“have at it.”
“I’m fine.” She wondered what happened to Owen’s brother and whether his death was related to his reasons for dealing drugs. She bent to pick up a stick and tossed it for Bear. The puppy gamely chased it and tried to drag it back to her. The stick was longer than he was, but he didn’t give up easily. She let him struggle for a few minutes, then broke the stick in half and threw it again.
This time, Bear looked triumphant as he returned with the stick in his mouth. He dropped it at her feet, his tail wagging with excitement. He was so cute she could hardly stand it. Knowing that wearing him out would help him sleep, she tossed the stick again. He brought it back twice before stretching out on his belly and gnawing on the end.
Better the stick than her fingers. She had plenty of scratches on her hands from his sharp teeth.
After another few minutes, Owen lifted the truck hood to peer at the engine. Then he stripped off his shirt, using it as a hot pad to screw off the radiator cap. Her gaze raked over him, then settled on the puckered scar that marred the upper right side of his chest. The bullet wound was healed, the dark red scar tissue seemingly all that remained as a reminder of the injury. There hadn’t been an exit wound, she’d had to extract the bullet herself, dousing the wound with rubbing alcohol, then using a flashlight and tweezers. Owen hadn’t uttered a single word, but the sweat pouring off him had spoken volumes. Not to mention the way he’d passed out afterward.
The fact that he was alive and appeared to have full movement of his arm was nothing short of a miracle.
Owen dumped the creek water into the radiator. Then he replaced the cap, shook out his shirt, and pulled it back over his head. “Hopefully that worked.”
“Come, Bear,” she called. The puppy ignored her, attacking the stick with a vengeance. She took a moment to gather a few more sticks for the road, then said again, “Bear! Come.”