Jay Crownover - Salvaged

I was freezing because I hadn’t bothered to change out of my scrubs after work and the weather was fast turning toward winter temperatures. My heart might be firmly located in Colorado but my blood was still used to the Texas sun and sweltering heat. It didn’t help matters that I could probably stand to add a few pounds on my naturally thin frame. I’d never been built with the kind of curves that could stop traffic like Salem was, and after my husband abducted me at gunpoint and ran with me across state lines, all while doing the most horrible things imaginable to my body and my mind, I’d lost what little appetite I had to begin with. I could go several days without eating because wayward thoughts and memories of being violated and tortured had a sneaky way of creeping into my mind when I least expected them. They always made my stomach turn. I knew I should do a better job taking care of myself, but it was easy to forget that I deserved better, so I was constantly reminding myself to take each little victory as a sign that I was on the right path. There were days I ate three square meals and managed to keep it all down, but there had yet to be a night that I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat with a scream locked in my throat and my heart racing so fast it felt like it was going to explode.

I rounded the corner at the end of my block and came to a halt. The puppy took that as a sign that we were done playing and started jumping all over my lower legs and pawing at my shins. He whined at me until I picked him up, and as soon as he could reach my face, his little tongue started darting all over my chin and cheeks. I wondered if he could feel the tension that made my limbs stiff and the anxiety that tightened all my muscles. I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat and there was no stopping my eyes from rapidly blinking to make sure what I was seeing was real and not a figment of my imagination.

He looked like one of those black-and-white art prints that hung in every diner and restaurant I’d ever eaten in. The one that was a throwback to another era when cool was something you had to cultivate and couldn’t buy on Amazon. He was leaning against a black-and-silver car that looked like it should be on the cover of a hot-rod magazine and not parked on a busy and crowded Capitol Hill street. He had on dark jeans and a dark canvas jacket that had the logo of his garage embroidered on the front. His ankles were crossed on the curb in front of him and one booted foot bounced up and down, giving the impression that he’d been waiting for me for a while. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were locked on mine as I stood still, unsure what to do. He had an effortless kind of charisma that radiated off of him. It was equal parts intimidating and irresistible. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to rush toward him or run as far from him as possible.

The puppy made the decision for me. Seeing another human, and thus another opportunity for pats and rubs, he threw his wiggling little body out of my arms before I could react. He hit the ground with a sharp yelp and then bolted right for Wheeler. I let out a gasp and took off after him thinking I could catch the end of the leash that was trailing behind him. I didn’t want him to run into the street or veer off into a yard where he didn’t belong. I was light-years away from being able to handle a confrontation with a hostile stranger that didn’t want the puppy in their yard.

I didn’t need to worry because Wheeler pushed his long, lean frame off the polished side of the car and reached the scrambling animal within a few strides. He crouched down as the puppy hurled himself into his arms and scooped the excited bundle up in one fluid motion. Then he was rising to his full height, which meant he was towering over me when I reached where he was standing. I was embarrassed at how out of breath I was. I was supposed to be stronger than I was before, but I could hardly handle a little jog up the block or the way my heart raced at the sight of him.

I shook my head and put my hands on my hips as I looked up into those arctic eyes. He was scratching the puppy under the chin and looking at me from under lashes that had the barest hint of red in them. “Why don’t you have a coat on?”

It wasn’t what I was expecting but his question reminded me that I was cold and that the lightweight hoodie that had the Saints of Denver logo on it wasn’t doing much to keep the bitter chill in the air off my skin. The shirt was probably the most exciting garment I had in my closet. It was the only thing I owned that was bright and colorful. I rubbed my arms up and down and fired my own question right back at him. “What are you doing here?”

The puppy barked like he was telling me not to be rude but I was unsettled by Wheeler’s unexpected appearance. It wasn’t the typical unsettled that I struggled with because he was a man that I didn’t know. It was the kind of unsettled that made parts of my body I forget could react to an attractive man feel warm and tingly. The kind of unsettled that had me involuntarily leaning closer to him as he started to shift so that he could pull his heavy jacket off one arm without letting go of the dog.

“I wanted to talk to you about the dog. Did you find someone to take him yet?” He shifted the puppy to his now bare arm and I watched the endless amounts of ink that covered his skin move and flex as he shook his other arm free of the coat.

“Uh … not really.” The truth was I hadn’t put that much effort into finding someone because I didn’t want to let the puppy go. In just a few days I’d grown attached even though I knew I wasn’t allowed to keep him in my apartment. I’d already asked since Dixie was allowed to keep Dolly, but the landlord informed me they were grandfathered in before the laws surrounding pit bulls in Denver changed. My little guy wasn’t that lucky.

My response made Wheeler chuckle. He stared at me silently as he held out the coat he’d taken off in his free hand.

“Put this on.” I stared at him like he’d suddenly started speaking Russian until he shook the coat again and frowned at me. His voice was serious and left no room for argument when he repeated the command. “Put this on, Poppy. I want to talk to you and I know you aren’t comfortable inviting me up to your apartment.”

I winced at the reminder of how spazzy and skittish I acted when I’d had to knock on Dixie’s door while he was house-sitting for her. He’d invited me into the apartment and it took every single ounce of courage I had to step over the threshold. Once inside with him, I’d been so jumpy and twitchy that both Wheeler and Dolly had given me a wide berth and plenty of space to freak out. Wheeler went to find what I needed for Dolly and didn’t even try to hand it off to me. He set it on the floor a few feet away from where I was quaking and shivering and then took himself all the way back across the room to the kitchen so I could gather everything up and make my escape without having to get too close to him. I’d wanted to cry tears of gratitude and sob with remorse at the same time. I hated that I couldn’t fight through the fear and just act normal.

I took the jacket he was holding out for me with shaking hands and fought the urge to bury my nose in it to see if it smelled like him. I liked the way that he always kind of smelled like he’d had his hands in something mechanical and messy. There was no expensive cologne for Wheeler, just the clean smell of soap, the lemony scent of whatever he used in that thick head of reddish-brown hair, and the persistent trace of how he made his living. It was honest and it was real. The way it surrounded me was intoxicating as I slid my arms into the sleeves of his jacket. The material went down well past my fingertips and the bottom hit me at midthigh. I was instantly warm, wrapped up in his scent and his lingering body heat. In fact, I couldn’t recall ever being this cozy.