Page 14 of Squatch Out!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

OLIVIA

A dull ache in my lower back drags me from the deep sleep I was enjoying. Rolling onto my back, I stretch it out so I can go back to sleep, but the moment my eyes flutter open, I realize I’m not in my tent. All hope of going back to sleep disappears.

I really need to stop waking up in strange places.

The same park ranger who brought me down from the cave came to my rescue again last night.

But instead of taking me back to the campsite, he brought me to his house.

We were waiting for Owen’s brother to return with his truck, then he was supposed to take me back, but obviously that didn’t happen.

Tony and Brian are probably freaking out.

I take in the rustic room and note the differences between Owen’s house compared to the house Bigfoot brought me to.

The thick stained beams that stretch across the ceiling and the clean white walls are nearly identical.

So is the fact that there isn’t much for wall hangings.

But Owen’s furniture all matches, and his front door isn’t hanging off its hinges.

The other house was definitely someone’s bachelor pad.

The leather couch creaks under me, and the bare skin on my arm sticks, making a fllllppp sound when I roll to my side.

I start to push myself up to sit when I notice the smaller couch across from me is occupied.

At first, I think it’s Owen who’s barely contained within the much-too-small loveseat.

But I quickly realize that, unless Owen suddenly aged backward and lightened his hair, it can’t be him.

The man is stretched out on his stomach, with one leg hanging over the side and the other stretched over the armrest. His face is turned toward me, with one arm curled tightly against his chest and the other stretched out so it’s hanging over the opposite armrest like his leg.

A quilt is bunched around his waist. I lick my lips as I take in all the tanned skin covering his strong muscles, then scold myself for staring at him like that.

Even deeply asleep, this man looks exhausted. Bruised circles shadow where thick dark lashes fan across his cheeks. The way his neck is cranked up at an angle makes me wince—he’s going to be sore when he wakes.

His breaths are deep and even as I watch him from across the room. His nose hooks slightly at the end and his brows are thicker in the center before tapering at both ends, both identical to Owen’s features.

This must be the brother he told me about. And also, damn… Owen is a good-looking guy, but his brother might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever set eyes on.

They share similar angular faces with high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, but this man’s tousled hair is a longer, lighter brown with streaks of blond and red instead of silver.

My fingers itch to brush away the strands that have fallen across his closed eyes.

To lightly stroke along his jaw that is shadowed by a few days’ growth of beard. Would his skin feel soft or bristled?

“Good morning,” Owen says as he passes in front of the couch on his way to the kitchen.

I jump, clutching at my chest as heat rushes into my face at being caught staring at his sleeping brother.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asks, not realizing the mini-heart attack he just gave me. “I have some milk and sugar, but none of that fancy stuff.”

I glance back at the sleeping man and let out a relieved sigh. If Owen caught me ogling his brother, at least he’s being polite enough not to mention it.

I push myself up so I’m sitting with both feet on the floor. “Um, coffee and milk would be great. Thank you.”

I’m still in my clothes from yesterday, and I nervously run my fingers through my messy hair.

I’ve never been good around strangers and strange places.

Even when I was a kid, I was usually the one begging to be picked up early from a slumber party.

The awkwardness of waking up in Owen’s home, where I’m at the whim of his unfamiliar routine has my heart fluttering.

A few minutes later, Owen returns to the living room and hands me a steaming mug with a USFS emblem on the side. He’s carrying a matching mug.

“Did you sleep alright?” He falls back into his leather recliner.

“Yes. Thank you.” I blow across the top of the milky coffee before taking a sip. I can’t help my satisfied hum when the warm bitterness hits my tongue. “Thank you for letting me crash here, but I should probably get back to camp. My friends are going to be worried.”

“Uh… about that.” Owen’s face scrunches up. “When Sean finally showed up, he didn’t have my truck with him.”

I glance at the man still fast asleep across from me. “Is that’s your brother?”

Owen nods.

“And… how did he get here if he didn’t have your truck?” My heart starts beating faster at the prospect of being stuck here even longer.

There is no missing the irritated look Owen shoots the sleeping man. “I have a feeling he left it at the trailhead. As for how he got here, he walked.”

My forehead scrunches up as I try to figure out how… and why…

“Was he… drunk?” I ask, eyeing the sleeping man again. He looks like he could be sleeping off a bender, but there are no alcoholic fumes coming off him.

“No, no. Sean hardly drinks at all. He just hasn’t slept in a couple days,” Owen explains. Only, it explains nothing.

A feeling of relief flows out of me that this gorgeous man isn’t a drunk. Holding the mug up to my face, I let my eyes flick back to Sean. Why can’t I quit looking at him?

Owen offers an apologetic smile. “Nothing short of a bomb is going to wake him anytime soon. But once he’s up, I’ll have him take you back.”

I lean back into the couch with a frustrated sigh. “I appreciate everything, but… I really need to get back soon.”

Owen’s eyes flick back and forth between me and his brother, and his expression turns… thoughtful . “You’ve met him before, you know.”

I snort. “I think I’d remember meeting him.” Oh god, did that sound as pervy as I think it did?

Owen smirks at me across his mug. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

I’m getting the strangest feeling that he’s trying to tell me something without actually telling me, like he’s hinting at an inside joke that I don’t get and it’s frustrating as hell.

Just then, the man in question shifts with a low groan.

The last of the quilt slides off him to pool on the floor as he rolls to his back.

I bite down on my bottom lip as I take in the way a pair of worn sweats ride low on his narrow hips.

With a deep groan, he stretches out his long frame at the same time he reaches down to scratch at his balls.

My mouth goes dry and my eyes are locked on the sight of those sweatpants being pulled even lower. Enough to give me a brief glimpse of dark hair and the hint of a thick shaft that’s growing thicker as it rises to attention before my eyes.

He lets out a soft moan and guides his hand from his balls to grip himself through the gray material. My stomach flip-flops, and I squeeze my thighs together, biting down harder on my lip to keep from moaning with him.

His hips hitch, and he starts a slow stroke?—

“Sean! We’ve got company!” Owen barks suddenly.

I’m sure my whole face is tomato red when Sean freezes and his eyes snap open. They are a rich chocolate brown and familiar, though I can’t place why. His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, and he slowly turns his head toward me.

Our eyes meet and it’s like being in the center of a tornado. All I feel is calm, while everything around me is swirling chaos. All my embarrassment and nervousness slips away like sand in the wind.

The calm doesn’t last, though, because suddenly he begins to tremble. Those melty chocolate eyes turn frightened and then frantic, as the trembling turns to shaking.

“Sean, don’t—” I hear Owen warn him. But it’s too late.

One second, Sean is draped across the loveseat. The next there is a seven-foot bigfoot in his place.