"Given the damage the bear could have inflicted, I think I got off relatively well."He splashed the last of the moonshine over the wound, washing rivulets of blood down his leg. Next he wrapped the gauze around his leg until he ran out of it. Two pins fastened the bandage in place.
"I wish I could help,” I said uselessly. "I wish there was something I could do."
Jude tossed a log on the fire. "Distract me. Play a game with me."
"Are you trying to get me to play Truth or Dare with you, Jude?" I said, attempting to be funny to distract him from his pain. For emphasis, I cocked a speculative eyebrow.
He snorted his amusement. "Tell me about the warmest place you've ever been. The warmest place you can think of."
"Reverse psychology?" I guessed.
"Worth a try."
I tapped my finger thoughtfully on my chin. "Arches National Park, Utah. My family spent a week there last summer. Picture this: An inescapable sun baking the dry, cracked land with vicious heat. The bluest sky you'll ever see domes a desert of red rocks that have eroded into arches, spires, and sandstone fins. They stab up from the earth like strange statues-it's like a scene out of a science fiction novel. People say the desert isn't beautiful. Those people have never been to Moab. Okay, your turn."
"Growing up, my sister and I would dive for abalone at Van Damme State Beach in California. It's not hot like the desert, but after diving, we'd always stretch out on the gray sand with our faces turned to the sun. We'd lie there until the sun had sapped every last ounce of energy from us. Every time, we swore we wouldn't wait until we were sick with heat to pack up and go. And every time, we'd break our vow. Delirious, we'd stagger up to the parking lot and search for my car. I'd drive us to this local joint for ice cream cones. We'd sit by the air conditioner, shivering from cold and dizzy with sunstroke." He grinned at the juxtaposition.
I tried to picture Jude with his sister, with loved ones, with a past. I had never really imagined him as a whole person before. I had only seen him as he was now, the man who had abducted me. His story opened a new door, one that I found myself wanting to peer through. I wanted to know the other versions of Jude.
"Do you feel warmer now?" I teased him. I wanted to press for more stories from his life, but I didn't want to sound too interested. I wasn't sure I was ready to hint that my opinion of him was shifting slowly.
"A bit."
"What's abalone?" "Edible sea snails."
I made a face. I wasn't a seafood girl, especially not a slimy seafood girl.
"No way,” Jude told me, seeing my expression and giving a scolding wag of his head. "You don't get to be a food snob until you've tried them. If we get off this mountain, first thing I'm going to do is make you eat abalone. I'll even cook them myself over an open fire on the beach, so you can experience abalone the authentic way." He spoke cavalierly, but his words caused me to swallow. If we got off this mountain, I would not be spending time with Jude. He had to know that. He was wanted by police. Whereas II wanted my life to go back to normal.
"They're actually pretty difficult to harvest,” Jude was saying. "The best place to look is in the deep rocks off the coast. You can try to shore-pick abalone, but we preferred breath-hold diving, which is what it sounds like-diving and holding your breath as long as you can."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Even if you know what you're doing, being trapped in the ocean's tide can be disorienting. The constant push and pull makes it challenging to find your footing or maintain your position. You're in constant motion, and a lot of divers find it hard to relax. Most people don't willingly subject themselves to a force far more powerful than they are. Lots of free divers get vertigo. That's when diving becomes dangerous. If you can't tell which way the shore is, or worse, which way is up, you're going to run into trouble fast. To make matters worse, there's bull kelp everywhere, and in the murky water, the flowing stalks look eerily like rippling hair. I can't tell you how many times I've thought there was a person floating to the side of me-only to jerk around and discover it was kelp undulating in the ebb and flow of the current."
"I've only been to the ocean once, if you can believe it. Which is why I really should have picked Hawaii over backpacking in the mountains for spring break,” I added with a rueful laugh.
"Next year,” he offered optimistically, his grin lighting up his whole expression.
I studied his face, bright and open, and tried to compare this version of him, the carefree diver, with the Jude I thought I knew. Despite how we had met, despite the circumstances that had trapped us together, over the past three days, he'd protected me and respected me. My opinion of him was changing. I wanted to learn more about him. And I wanted to share myself with him.
Without thinking, I slapped him on the thigh and said, "You know what? I do feel warmer." Immediately, I withdrew my hand and smoothed it through my hair, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. As if our boundaries hadn't changed.
I jolted out of sleep, panting softly as I stared up at the tangled, knurly roots overhead. A bad dream. My hairline felt sticky, and I was overly warm in my layers of clothes and blankets. I sat up and tugged off my coat, sponging my face with it before setting it aside. Then I inhaled deeply over and over, trying to regain my breath.
I rolled my head around my shoulders, attempting to come back to reality and banish any lingering memory of what it had felt like when I dreamed Jude stretched his tall, muscular body on top of mine and pushed his mouth damply against my own.
It was a dream, I knew that. But this one made me tremble and ache.
After several minutes, I settled back down with a sigh, but I didn't close my eyes. I was afraid to fall asleep. What if I went back to the dream? In some inexplicable way, I felt drawn to it with an urgent longing that made me feel both wildly alive and afraid.
With a soft groan of frustration, I rolled onto my side. Jude's eyes were open, watching me.
In a sleep-roughened voice he murmured, "What's wrong?" "Bad dream."
Our faces were only inches apart, and as I bent my knee to shift to a more comfortable position, I accidentally grazed his leg. Electricity seemed to sear my skin.
He rose up on his elbow and touched my arm. "You're shaking.”
”The dream felt very real,” I whispered.
In the darkness, our eyes connected. We watched each other silently. My pulse thrummed, strong and steady.
"Tell me about it,” he said quietly.