Buried: A Cainsville Story

Rest and Regroup

"Olivia."

Her eyes slit open, slowly, and then she shoots upright in her seat, eyes darting around like mad, until they finally settle on me, kneeling by her side outside of the open car door.

She groans, her head flopping into her hands. "Hello."

"Hello."

"Before you ask, I feel like I've faced off with a semi-automatic and lost."

"Not much better myself." I hold out my hand to her. "Come on. Our house guests await." I try not to spit the words out, but I am feeling more and more reluctant to face people at the moment. What I want to do is assure myself of Olivia's safety, take a long shower, and sleep for a very long time.

She doesn't speak as I guide her into the building. Not until the elevator. "What are you dreading? What in particular?"

Damn. She is good at that.

"I may have...tipped my hand. About my feelings for you. Before I left."

"Tipped your hand?"

The words blurt out. "I colorfully threatened James Morgan. It was...impassioned."

"Whoa...watch out there. Somebody is going to think you feel something." She grins, then her face falls. "I keep saying things to lighten the mood that you probably don't find humorous. And when I think about it, I've been doing it for weeks."

"I take no offense," I say. "I have cultivated an image of myself that you are commenting on, but I believe you know me better than to believe I remain unaffected."

"Yeah, but do you wish you could?" I glance over at her, and she is wringing her hands, her eyes focused somewhere in the lower corner of the elevator base.

She is unsure. About us. Which is insanity, since I spent all this time believing she held all the cards.

I watch her fidget, panic rising in my chest and I make a decision. There are sides to me that she hasn't been privy to, sides that I purposely mute to create a certain image, things that run through my mind that she would never think to associate with me. And if I want her to know me, I will have to give her a preview.

I steal her hand the way I stole that scone away the first time I met her--before she knows what is happening, I have it. I pull her against me, my other hand plunging into her hair and I capture her mouth in a heated kiss that draws a moan from her that makes me want to stop the elevator dead in its tracks. But I don't. When I pull back, I reluctantly glance at the red floor numbers as they tick upwards. 51, 52, 53...

My gaze slides to hers. "I believe you understand my position, now."

54...

She smiles. "Back on terra firma. Thanks. I wasn't sure..."

And 55. The elevator dings and the door opens. "Be sure. I do not make decisions unless I am certain of the outcome."

"And you're certain of the outcome with me?" she asks.

"I know what I want." And the sentence hangs there, swinging. But we don't have time for the rest of the conversation because the door to my condo is already opening, Ricky bounding out and pulling Olivia into an ecstatic hug.

I ignore the scene because I can do nothing else about it. That is a conversation for Olivia to have.

I step around them.

"Gabriel?" Rose gasps. "What on Earth...you look like you rolled around in a mud puddle."

I step past her. James Morgan is sitting on my couch, arms tied behind him, looking very pissed off. That is, until I come into view.