Off Chance

4

Rowan Page is one tough nut. If it were just her, sitting in front of her psycho ex-boyfriend’s house, wearing nothing but paper-thin scrubs and faced with spending the night in the streets, she would have never accepted my help. But it was a slam-dunk move for me to bring her dog into play. She cares more about that beast than she does about herself and I have no shame in using that against her.

“Well, let’s get going. I’m going to need to stop at a store to get some dog food.”

I hold my hand out to her to help her from the ground. She ignores it and springs up from the grass on her own. We walk silently to the car and Capone follows. Even as tired as I know she must be—even as beat-down as she must be feeling—I’m amazed that she walks with her shoulders straight and her head held high.

Rowan opens the back door and motions for Capone to jump in. He does and lies down across the seat, apparently exhausted from his all-day adventure outside. I’m going to be cleaning out dog hair for months, I can tell.

Rowan and I get in the car and we take off toward the nearest Key Food. I briefly contemplate heading to Gateway Center so I can get some clothes for Rowan, but I’m afraid she’ll bolt if I leave her alone too long.

To kill some time and try to figure out the enigma that is this woman, I glance over at her and ask, “So... what’s your story?”

She looks at me sharply. “Mind your own business. My story’s not that interesting anyway.”

I’m not deterred, and her standoffish attitude makes me even more determined. “Not interesting? You were chained to a bed and nearly burned alive by your drug-dealing ex-boyfriend, and you’re saved at the last minute by your wonder-mutt and a dashingly handsome firefighter. You seriously don’t think you’re interesting?”

Glancing back at her, I can see the corners of her mouth lift up ever so slightly but they never even come anywhere close to a real smile. I’m relieved to know, however, that this ball-busting girl has a small measure of humor inside. That is completely at odds with her tough persona, and now makes her a gazillion times more interesting.

I literally have no choice but to press on.

“Come on... tell me something to satisfy my curiosity. How old are you?”

She apparently thinks that’s safe enough and quickly answers, “Just turned twenty-three.”

I let a brief silence stretch on, waiting to see if she’ll say anything else. She doesn’t, nor does she even appear to have any curiosity about me... the strange man who she is going to be staying the night with.

“I’m twenty-six,” I tell her, just to keep the conversation going. “Where are you from originally? I hear a little bit of a southern accent, right?”

She doesn’t answer as quickly and her words are softer... more tentative than the brash way she normally talks. “I left Texas when I was eighteen and haven’t looked back.”

The silence that lays heavy after that statement tells me this is not a subject near and dear to her heart. I can tell that leaving Texas was both a blessing and a curse for her.

I ponder my next question, because while I know this girl and her dog will stay with me tonight, I can’t help but worry what will become of her tomorrow. It’s none of my business... I know that. But she’s just demonstrated that she has no one else that will help her, not a single person she could call for help, and there’s no way I’m letting her stay out on the streets.

“Listen... I’m not trying to pry into your business and I’m not going to tell the cops anything, but what’s the deal with this guy? Was he trying to kill you? You know the cops could protect you.”

She snorts at me and when I glance at her, she’s giving me a chastising look. “Get real. You saw that cop back at the hospital. They want me to get to Juice. They want Juice to get to his supplier. The safest thing for me would be to just get lost and hope Juice doesn’t find me.”

She’s in a tough place. I get it. I certainly don’t know anything about the drug world but the one thing I do know is that it is big money, and that type of money is always more important than a human life, which does put her at risk.

“I understand,” I tell her, and I sincerely mean it. “I’m not so sure I wouldn’t do the same thing as you.”

She doesn’t say anything and I don’t ask any further questions. The silence lays heavy between us but it doesn’t mean I’m not trying to think of a game plan. Maybe she could stay with me for a while until we could figure out how to get her out of danger. Which sounds fucking ludicrous because I know it’s not my problem.

“You really mean that?”

My thoughts are interrupted by her soft voice. “Mean what?”

“That you get why I don’t want to deal with the cops.”

“Yeah... I do. Sounds dangerous to me, and they have bigger fish to fry. I’m not saying I don’t think the cops could be of help at some point, but I do understand you not wanting to trust them. I respect it.”

She doesn’t respond and I take a quick glance at her. She’s just staring at me with bewilderment in her eyes. It’s like she’s seeing me for the first time and isn’t exactly sure what she’s looking at.

“So, you gonna share with me anything else about yourself?” I ask her, hoping that I’ve shown her I have her best interests at heart. She doesn’t even have the manners to respond, but just looks out her window, staring at the city rolling by.

“No, huh?” I decide to keep talking, even if she doesn’t want to participate. I’ve always been a chatterbox—my mom’s words, not mine—and I want her to see that she can trust me.

“I’m from New Jersey originally... Englewood. Both my parents still live there and I get over to visit as much as possible. My sister, Renner, just moved to Ireland... following her new boyfriend. He plays in a band or some shit like that and he’s on tour now.”

My heart stutters for a beat... thinking of Renner. I hope she’s okay, and I hope she’s happy. We text each other nearly every day, and she certainly seems to be both. I’m really happy for her, but damn if I don’t miss her like crazy.

The monologue continues. “I don’t have any other siblings but I have two cousins that are about as close as brothers to me. My cousin, Nix, lives across the river, near my parents and his dad. He’s a metal artist but he also builds custom motorcycles. And his brother, Linc, just moved to Phoenix. He plays—”

“Linc Caldwell? As in the former goalie for the Rangers?”

I turn and grin at her, psyched that I found something to engage her in conversation. “Yup. The one and only. Are you a fan?”

Turning my eyes back to the road, I can’t help but take one more quick peek at her. I see a wisp of a smile and her eyes look a bit livelier. “I love hockey and definitely pull for the Rangers. I was sad to see him go.”

“Yeah... he was sad to go to. I can get you an autographed picture or something if you want.”

Her voice is sharp as a razor. “And just what would I do with it? Frame it and set it on the mantel that hangs over my fireplace?”

Damn, this girl is shrouded in iron.

Just when I thought I had her softened up a bit, she closes back up. Luckily, the conversation is saved from going further as I pull up to the grocer near my apartment. Putting the car in park, I leave the engine running so she and Capone will have the air conditioning.

I point to the backseat where I can see Capone is snoozing hard. “Anything in particular he likes to eat?”

“Just any type of dry dog food. Just get a small bag though, as he’ll only need enough for tonight and for tomorrow morning.”

Her statement is clear... she’s moving on come sunrise.

“You got it. Be back in a few.” I stare at her a moment before exiting the car, but she turns away and continues staring out the passenger window.

The dog food has been purchased and the ride to my apartment was done in absolute silence. After parking in my assigned spot, I walk with Rowan and Capone up the three flights of stairs to my humble abode. I’ve got my duffel bag slung over one shoulder and I’m carrying a thirty-pound bag of dog food over the other. Rowan has her hand lightly on Capone’s collar but I don’t think she’s really afraid he’ll bolt off.

When I came out of the store carrying the huge bag of dog food, she didn’t say anything, just raised her eyebrows at me. The fact that I bought such a huge bag of food sends a clear message as well... she’s welcome to stay a few days longer if she needs to. At least I’m guessing that’s what my subconscious is telling her.

When we reach my door, I look down at her. “Can you grab my keys? They’re in my front right pocket.”

The minute I ask the question, I’m suddenly aware that could be seen as a very lewd and inappropriate request. But Rowan only says a quick, “Yup” and then her hand is disappearing into my pants. She makes quick work of grabbing my keys—which are luckily resting in the part of my pocket that lays against the outer part of my thigh—and holds them up to me.

“It’s the silver one on the end. It opens the deadbolt and the door lock.”

Rowan makes quick work of the locks and opens the door, stepping back so I can walk in first. Throwing my duffel to the floor, I walk into the kitchen and set the dog food down. I hear the front door close and the locks re-engage, and then Rowan walks in behind me with Capone on her heels.

“Do you mind if I feed him and give him some water?”

“Not at all.”

Reaching into a cupboard, I pull out two large, stainless-steel bowls. I hand her one and I take the other to the sink to fill up. I can hear Rowan ripping into the dog food and scooping some into the bowl.

Capone is in doggie heaven when we set both of the bowls down. Poor pup goes immediately for the water, and I’m not surprised with him running around outside all day. After he has his fill, he lifts that big, shaggy head and water spills out from the sides of his mouth all over my floor. Grimacing inside, I resist the urge to get a towel and mop it up. I don’t want to do anything that makes Rowan feel uncomfortable to be here, and if I have to learn to live with some dog slobber, then I’ll do it.

Capone turns to the food and starts chomping away. We both just watch him silently for a few minutes. He’s a clear multitasker because he steadily keeps his face buried in the food, all the while wagging his tail to show his happiness.

When I look at Rowan, she’s watching him with a look of worry on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She doesn’t respond at first and then she slowly drags her gaze away from the dog, but by the time her eyes meet mine, the worry is gone. “Nothing. I’m good. Just happy to have him back.”

She’s lying to me... I know it. She’s very smooth at it and makes her transition easily, but I can still see the lie in her eyes.

“Tell you what... let’s discuss a game plan for the night. I suggest we order a pizza to be delivered. I’m sure you’d like a nice shower, since you smell like the inside of a fireplace, and I’ll give you some of my clothes to wear for the night. Then we’ll discuss your next move.”

She opens her mouth as if she’s going to argue with me about discussing her next move, but then just as quickly shuts it. I’m clever enough to know that she’s not capitulating, just putting off having to engage in conversation with me.

“I’ll take you up on that,” she says. “But I need to walk Capone after he’s done eating.”

“I’ll handle that,” I tell her. “Come on back to my room... let me grab you some clothes and you can get in the shower.”

She follows me back down the short hall to my bedroom. Opening the door, I sigh inwardly at the mess. I’ve got dirty clothes strewn all over the floor and old beer bottles on the nightstand. At least I don’t keep dirty dishes back here.

Reaching into my dresser drawer, I pull out a t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts that have a drawstring that she can use to keep them up around her tiny waist. She takes them and I point across the hall. “Bathroom is right there. Clean towels are under the sink.”

She starts to walk that way but then turns around. “How are you going to walk Capone? You don’t have a leash.”

I think about it a minute and then I’m struck with an idea. Reaching into my top drawer, I pull out a tie. I don’t have many of them but I grab a hideous Donald Duck tie that Renner gave me for Christmas a few years ago.

Holding it up, I show Rowan the tie, hoping I will finally see a smile poke through. It doesn’t come but she does give me what could be considered a caustic smirk.

“That’s resourceful,” she says, her voice only a few degrees warmer than it normally is.

I will not be deterred.

I will not be deterred.

After repeating that silently twice, I give her a huge smile. “I thought so, too. Now, go take a nice, long shower. By the time you get done, I’ll have Capone taken care of and the pizza will be here.”

Rowan’s gray eyes seem to lighten a bit and she opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something. Then she just gives a slight shake of her head and turns away to head into the bathroom.

Walking Capone was pretty easy. I tied the Donald Duck tie to his collar, knotting it twice in case he tried to pull away from me. But he was well behaved and walked by my side the entire time. The only bad thing was I had to pick up his crap, which was the size of a football, and dump it in the nearest pet receptacle. Thank God Rowan had yelled out to me before I left to take a plastic bag just for that momentous event.

The pizza dude is at my apartment door when I get back with Capone. He keeps a worried eye on the big dog as I dig money out of my wallet and hand it to him.

When we step into the apartment, I see Rowan sitting on my couch, running her fingers through her wet hair. She’s swimming in my clothes but she actually looks like she has a little color back in her face. She’ll feel even better after she gets some food and has a good night’s sleep.

She looks up at me, and I’m again struck by the beauty of her gray eyes, particularly with her dark hair hanging in wet chunks around her face.

“I used your razor to shave my legs.”

Her voice is unapologetic about using my razor, but it doesn’t matter. My blood boils with sympathy and anger over the fact she was chained like an animal and roughing up my good razor is hardly worth thinking about.

“No worries,” I tell her with a smile. “Use anything you like.”

She suddenly grins at me wickedly. “In that case, I also used your toothbrush.”

Laughing, I walk into the kitchen. Her first real smile and it came with a devilish and cocky attitude. I’ve not known her long, but I bet I could safely say that is classic Rowan. “Come get some pizza. No telling when you had a good meal last, right?”

Setting the pizza down on my small kitchen table, I turn around and Rowan is right there. She smells like my spicy body wash and, up close, her gray eyes are softer, more liquid. Looking at her now, dressed in my clothes and removed from the horrendous nature of her captivity, she looks different to me.

Beautiful. Angelic. Captivating.

I didn’t notice it before, because I was looking at her strictly through the lenses of my fireman’s glasses. She was a job... a person to save.

Now that I have her safely tucked away from danger, I’m seeing her through the eyes of a man. And this man likes what he’s seeing.

But sadly, I can’t go there. I’m doing this to help Rowan out of a bad situation, because that is what I do... I help people. I don’t bring home beautiful and tragic women so I can get my rocks off.

Tearing my thoughts away from that direction, I open the box. “I got pepperoni. I figured everyone likes pepperoni.”

She leans over the box and inhales deeply. “Oh, my God. I think I could eat that whole pizza. I’m so hungry.”

Reaching into the cupboard, I pull out two plates and hand them to her. While she takes them to the table and sits down, I pull two sodas out of the fridge. Popping the tops off, I walk over and sit down across from her, handing her the drink.

She takes a deep swallow and sighs. “Thanks.”

I point to the box. “Eat up.”

Setting the can down, Rowan reaches in and grabs a slice. She doesn’t even lay it on her plate but brings it to her mouth to take a huge bite. The moan that bubbles up from her throat causes my skin to crawl. It’s not a sexual moan, but rather the sound of someone that hasn’t had food in a while. Anger bolts through me again over what has been done to her.

I just watch her. She gobbles down bite after bite of pizza, polishing the crust off quickly. She reaches for another piece and takes a bite, closing her eyes as she savors the taste. When she opens them back up, she glances my way and stops chewing.

“What?” she asks, her mouth full.

“I’m sorry for what you went through.” It’s all I can think to say, because it’s the only thing I can offer her right now.

Rowan swallows the food in her mouth and sets the remaining slice on her plate. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m not asking you to. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry. No one should be treated like that.”

She pins me with a hard stare for what seems like forever. I don’t waver and I don’t look away. I hold her gaze so she knows I’m saying nothing more than I have sympathy for her.

Apparently satisfied I’m not trying to worm information from her, she picks her pizza back up and starts eating again. I use that as my clue to go ahead and start. I pick up a slice and take a bite, wondering what’s going to happen to Rowan tomorrow.