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Page 1 of Intoxicating Pursuit

The Predator

SAMMY

W hen I realized he was following me, my heart exploded in fear. Could one stupid decision to bike alone through the woods cost me everything?

“Hey!” His voice erupted—demanding and loud. . . and far too close.

I tightened my grip on the handlebars and risked a quick glance over my shoulder. The biker’s hulking frame rocked back and forth as he pedaled up the muddy trail after me, devouring the distance between us.

Flames of panic spread into a firestorm.

Is it worth it, Sammy? To save ten minutes? I cursed myself and stood up on the pedals, pushing furiously.

Last night’s thunderstorm had trashed the trail with forest debris, and my tires twisted and slipped in the unstable muck. The edges of the woods grew fuzzy as spasms rocked my heart.

Another hundred yards to safety? Maybe? A blur of sunlight shone at the end of the path, and I begged my body not to quit.

I pumped with all my strength around a bend in the trail—and smashed headlong into a fallen tree.

The impact jarred my bones, launching me over the handlebars. I smacked into the muddy ground with a blunt, paralyzing impact.

“Lady! . . .Hey! Your meds!”

Stunned and confused, I lifted my head. Pain bloomed along my ribs.

“Yo!” A loud whistle split the air, close enough to hurt my ears.

The biker careened around the corner, then everything happened at once.

His bike tangled with mine, crashing and vaulting him forward. He landed helmet first near my hip, his leg twisted behind him, and an Epi-Pen tumbled from his bike jersey.

“Unh. . .” He slithered closer.

I scrambled to all fours, staggered to stand. My aching body protested, but I had to get away.

“My God.” He flopped to his back, panting. Sunglasses masked his expression, but he gritted his teeth in obvious pain. “Why didn’t you stop ?” His shoelace was snarled on the dead tree’s sharp roots. Blood welled along an angry gash on his leg.

A fallen branch the size and shape of a baseball bat lay nearby, and I grabbed it—held it high. He lay between me and my bike. Could I go around him? Or should I leave everything? Run away? My brain felt thick, my legs wobbly.

He grunted to a seated position and worked to untangle his laces from the jutting, splintery wood.

His ankle was swelling like a water balloon.

“Oh, shit on a biscuit!” He lifted it tenderly.

“Are you kidding me?” He pounded the ground with his fist and lay back in the mud again. “God, I’m a flipping moron!”

The last few minutes hovered at the edge of my mind, emerging through the mists of panic. Did he say something about medicine?

I glanced at the Epi-Pen and the tiny saddle bag where I kept valuables. It was sagging open, unzipped.

Oh my God.

The facts stacked up in odd shapes, and I fought for a logic that fit them together. “Is that my Epi?”

“Yeah.” He pushed himself to a seated position again and adjusted his ankle, wincing.

“It fell out of your pack. Thought I could catch up to you real quick, but you’re a beast on that bike.

” He managed a pained grin, but it vanished when he looked up.

His jaw slacked. “ Good Lord. What are you doing?”

The stick shook in my hand. What was I doing? Was he seriously bringing me my meds? I realized I should probably drop the tree branch, but I just couldn’t.

A messy emotional cocktail fizzed inside me, threatening to spill over: fear, embarrassment. . . the first hints of guilt.

I inched toward him, snatched the injector from the ground, and backed away quickly.

“Are you okay ?” he asked, incredulous.

“You scared the shit out of me!” The words burst out. I wiped at the stupid tears that escaped my eyes.

What’s real, Sammy? Come on. Breathe.

“Hey, I was only trying to help.” He held up his hands. “And I’m sorry I scared you. Like, really I am, but would you mind putting down the weapon? I’m kinda vulnerable here.”

Tributaries of blood ran down his leg. His ankle begged for ice and crutches.

My heart was slowing, and I sensed a mistake—another Sammy McCallum overreaction. He was badly injured, he was trying to do me a favor, and I was threatening him like a deranged cave woman.

I knew I’d made a mistake.

I fumbled the branch in my trembling grip another moment, then forced myself to drop it. “Sorry.”

Sanity was returning with each gulp of oxygen, with each gusting breeze that shook rainwater from the treetops. “And thank you. . . I guess.”

Sunlight broke through the canopy, casting dappled shadows in the rain-soaked woods. The skittering sounds of small animals clicked and scratched along the hillside. I took another breath—tried to drain the last of my panic. “I should call you an ambulance.”

“Oh, please don’t. That’s like the one thing that could make this worse.” He seemed to search the ground around him.

“I have to help somehow.”

“Do you see my smart watch? That would help,” he said. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Nothing visible lay on the trail, and three-leaved plants snaked through the surrounding undergrowth. “I don’t, and you don’t want to root around too much. There’s a lot of poison ivy.”

His shoulders slumped.

“So, now, I’m hurt, my smart watch is lost , and I’ve scared a woman.” He paused to gape at me. “No. . . I’ve scared the shit out of a woman! God, what a colossal mess!”

He hesitated, as if giving the situation one last chance to fix itself. Then without another word, he pivoted to face down the trail, lifted his bad ankle up, and started scooting through the mud.

I gawked at his clumsy effort. “Where in the world are you going?”

“My ride’s at the Valley Green. I’m gonna go find him.” He slogged over the mucky ground, ruining a perfectly good pair of bike shorts, his swollen ankle bobbing along absurdly in the air.

“That’s crazy.” I scanned the wooded embankment. You couldn’t even see the white pillars of the old inn’s front porch from here. “The Valley Green’s at least a mile away.”

He continued undeterred, bumbling down a few more inches of the craggy trail.

I sighed. “Not that you’d get there before dark, anyway.”

He persisted with his stubborn, futile endeavor, and I just couldn’t watch it anymore.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’ll never get down the hill like that, and you need medical care.” It only took a few strides to catch up to him. “Plus, you’ll tear up your hands.”

He finally paused in the mud and examined his palms, dejected.

“Come on.” I extended my hand to help him up. “My business is only a hundred yards away. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“But I scared you witless! I’m an ass!” He stared at me helplessly. “I mean your hands are still shaking for God’s sake.”

I planted them on my hips, forcing them to hold still.

“It’s just adrenaline. Look. . . even if you were a predator, I don’t think you could do me any harm right now.

” I finally bent down, tucked my shoulder under his arm and wrapped a steadying hand around his back.

He grabbed a tree branch, and we managed to get him upright.

“And for the record, you’re obviously not a predator. ”

***

T he Wissahickon Valley forest had long been my place of solace, a lush, two-thousand-acre haven slicing through the Philadelphia suburbs.

But this morning, the wooded gorge was a minefield.

The slippery mud, sharp rocks, and low-hanging branches I’d struggled to navigate on my bike were even tougher to avoid with two hundred pounds of man hanging onto me.

All stretched out, he was even larger than he appeared on the bike.

Despite my height, his arm wrapped easily over my shoulder, and his back was broad and firm with muscle.

With only three working legs between us, I concentrated on nothing but keeping us upright and away from the steep edge of the trail as we attempted to navigate the path.

We made progress, though, step by careful step, and fell into a slow pace.

His sweat-soaked jersey slid beneath my grip at times, and I tightened my hold on the wall of his chest. “Sorry,” I said.

“S’okay.” He huffed with effort. “We’re okay.”

Actually, though, it was something different than okay.

His body pressed against parts of me I would normally never let a stranger near.

While the contact was obligatory, not sensual, my nervous system did not get the memo.

The feel of his ribs against my breasts and the weight of his arm across my shoulders stirred my cells awake.

I couldn’t deny the gentle buzz it sent across my skin.

Despite the unexpected pleasure, with each dubious step, his weight became increasingly untenable, and I strained to keep going as we approached the edge of the woods.

The front door of the brewery had just become visible when his bad ankle hit a stump jutting up from the path. He cursed, grabbed a nearby tree trunk, and collapsed forward in pain. The poor guy couldn’t catch a break. His swearing continued, and I held him steady while he fought the worst of it.

Despite his suffering, I did need to tell him something. He still had his eyes closed and was starting to compose himself when I finally spoke up. “Um, I know you’re in a lot of pain right now, but you know that whole ‘not a predator’ thing? One of your hands is kind of on my breast.”

His hand was off me instantly. “Oh my God.” He fought to steady himself on one leg. “Sweet Jesus, I would never do that on purpose. I’m so sorry.” He looked around like a mortally embarrassed teenager. “Could today go any more wrong?”

“Let’s just get you fixed up. We’re almost there.”

He set his hand back on my shoulder with exaggerated care, and we finally made it out of the woods.

***

I unlocked the front entrance of the Forbidden Craft Brewing Company, wedging the door with my body as we struggled out of the humid July air into the cavernous tasting room.

My patient took in the space with the same awe I felt every time I walked in. After all these years, it had not gotten old.