In Strange Woods - Claire Cray Page 0,11

streaking over the asphalt.

Not knowing what else to do, James stopped walking and raised a hand.

Chapter 4: Picked Up

The black pickup truck slowly rumbled to a stop beside him, headlights beaming through the mist, and the passenger side window came down to reveal the man behind the wheel. Well, as much as could be seen in the darkness. By the faint glow of the dashboard lights he looked like he might be around James’s age, with slightly unkempt blond hair that fell a little past his chin.

“You okay?” the stranger asked in a low voice that somehow conveyed abject confusion, like James had fallen out of the sky.

“Not really.” James wasn’t sure how to size up a stranger under these circumstances. Somehow, the man’s quiet bewilderment was reassuring. It was not the air of a predator.

“You lost?”

“No, my car got stuck.” The mist was slowly becoming a sprinkle, and he tried to suppress a shiver. “I was trying to walk back to Spruce.”

The stranger cocked his head, which brought his face closer to the dashboard lights. He was possibly not bad looking. “How’d you end up all the way out here?”

“Just…” James slowly lifted his shoulders. “Exploring.”

There was a pause. “You want help getting your car out?”

“Oh.” James was surprised by the offer, and then desperately hopeful. “Do you think you could?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Gotta swing by my place, grab a chain.” The stranger seemed to hesitate. “You wanna hop in? It’s about to rain.”

“Thanks.” James opened the door of the truck and climbed in.

Heat enveloped him as soon as he pulled the door shut, and he relaxed into the seat almost involuntarily. It felt like slipping into a hot bath, and he was surprised to hear the velvety sounds of Roy Orbison’s ‘In Dreams’ drifting from the speakers. The truck even smelled nice, like leather and sandalwood. Smelled familiar, actually.

A ripple of memory from last night rolled in: burying his face in a soft collar, breathing in deep, leaning into a warm, solid body.

James shot a startled glance at the stranger as the truck moved forward. Could that—no. That would be absurd. Right? Obviously.

“I’m Hunter,” the man said.

“James.” James took another, closer look at Hunter, making out what he could in the shadows. Long legs. Broad shoulders. Big hands. Sort of a grunge vibe, with the long hair and the wool jacket that looked twice his age.

Fat drops of rain were exploding on the windshield like tiny water balloons. Hunter flipped the wipers on. The black road unfurled ahead, the glow of the headlights skimming the dark trees like an apparition.

“Is your place far from here?” James asked.

“Nah. Couple minutes.” Hunter’s low voice had the same subtle twang as other locals in Brooks and Spruce, a quirk of the rural Northwest that James found oddly soothing. “Where’s your car?”

“It’s, uh…” James glanced over his shoulder into the tunnel of darkness behind them. “Up that road we just passed, I think.”

“What, up Pike Creek?”

“Pike Creek? I don’t know. It only has a number on the map.”

“Well, ‘cause it’s barely a road.” Hunter sounded puzzled. “Aren’t you in, like, a hatchback?”

“Yeah, I didn’t…” James trailed off, wondering how Hunter would know what car he drove, and then looked at him in slow dismay. “Shit. Did we meet last night?”

“Kind of.” Hunter sounded cautiously amused. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure how to say it. Guess you don’t remember much?”

“Shit.” James groped in vain for the memories that the whiskey had dissolved. “I don’t. Did I do anything bad?”

“Nah,” Hunter reassured him, and then revised his answer. “Well, yeah. Fell out of your car and walked in front of a log truck. Gave me a heart attack. Other than that, you were mostly passed out.”

“Jesus. Does that mean you helped me back to my room?”

“Uh, yeah.” Hunter sounded unsure. “Hope that’s okay. Wasn’t sure what else to do.”

“Of course. God, I’m sorry.” James wanted to crawl under the dashboard. “I’m lucky you were there. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The weather was getting fierce, raindrops spattering like firecrackers on the truck. The rain was so thick in the air it was hard to see, even after Hunter casually flicked the wipers to the highest setting.

“I wasn’t driving like that,” James said with a fresh wave of embarrassment. “Just sitting in the car.”

“That’s good,” Hunter said simply, and then lifted a hand from the steering wheel to indicate a blue wooden post up ahead on the right. There was a gravel turnoff there leading into