Wounded (a mystery and a sweet romance)

Wounded: Chapter 7

Tara waded in the shallows of the sunlit beach, wearing nothing but a cheerful pink bikini. An odd choice, since she was clearly looking for something in the sand and pebbles. She wasn’t sure what exactly but had a sense that it was important. Tiny minnows swam around her ankles as the gentle waves of Puget Sound lapped at her calves. She wondered why she wasn’t wearing sandals as she pushed over algae-covered stones with her toes, hoping that what she sought lay beneath them, but the slick, rocky footing didn’t bother her for some reason.

The feeling that she was being watched came over her, and she lifted her head. She was alone on the beach, with nothing accept driftwood and rocks stretching as far as the eye could see. Oh, but someone was coming down the cliff-side trail. Malcolm.

Good, he could help her find what she was looking for. But like her, he wasn’t dressed for the hunt. He carried a picnic basket and wore his flip flops and camo shorts, with his torso bare, his skin gleaming beneath the sun. He strode across the beach, and she waved enthusiastically, then ran up to meet him.

“You came to help, I knew you would.” She surprised herself by flinging her arms around him and kissing him soundly on the mouth.

He stepped back, an eyebrow quirked, and held up the basket. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know,” she said, saddened that he hadn’t returned the kiss. But her curiosity pushed the emotion aside, and she pointed at the basket. “What’s in there?”

He peeled back the lid to reveal the most bumpy grotesque mushrooms Tara had ever seen. When she leaned in for a better look, one jumped out at her. It landed on her arm and latched on, the gills beneath the cap biting in like fangs.

She tried to shake it off her arm and looked at Malcolm in betrayal. “I thought you would help me!”

He pulled the attack mushroom off her and started petting it. It calmed down. “I needed you to know how dangerous this is. You could get hurt.”

“How dangerous what is? Mushrooms?”

Thumps floated down from the forest above the cliff. It sounded like loggers’ axes biting into those old trees.

“They’re coming,” Malcolm said. “Make your choice.”

“What choice? I don’t understand!”

Tara woke with a start, her eyes flying open to the pre-dawn gray beyond her bedroom window. She flopped back onto the pillows and groaned.

“Seriously? A dream with a hot half-naked man, and instead of getting busy with him, I get attacked by his pet mushrooms?” What a twisted subconsciousness she had.

Before she could wonder further at the oddness of her mind, knocks sounded at her front door. From the heaviness of the hand, she sensed it wasn’t the knocker’s first attempt. Sighing, she picked up her phone to check the time. It wasn’t even six yet. Who was bugging her at this hour?

Abruptly, she remembered Malcolm’s promise to come over. She sat up, her blanket falling about her waist. He wouldn’t have come this early, would he? Unfortunately, her bedroom window looked over the back of the cottage, not the front door, so she couldn’t check. On the off chance it was Malcolm, she ducked into the bathroom to brush her hair and wash the crud out of her eyes before stuffing her feet into slippers and hustling down the loft stairs. Convincing him to come hadn’t been easy; the last thing she wanted was for him to get tired of waiting and leave.