Jasper's Soul Mate (18+)

Chapter 1: Out Of Service

 "Eye contact is a dangerous thing. But lovely. Oh, so lovely."

For the longest time, I enjoyed the city life. The noise, the people (the nice ones), and the food were appealing. But one cold fall night, my entire view of urban living just changed.

If I'm being honest, I guess there were other things that had occurred that contributed to my sudden need to jet out of the city and settle somewhere surrounded by miles of trees, but I only want to remember one. It was the result of a pity gift, a toe-curling, awe wrenching, secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere.

The cabin—my new home—had come fully furnished and stocked with everything a twenty-year-old like myself would ever desire. When I say everything, I damn well mean it. But, for the life of me—as I look out at my ridiculously vast property, sipping tea— I can't figure out why in the fuck there is a naked muddy man running through my backyard.

I know nudists hadn't been included on the inventory list of my home.

Tea splutters from my lips as the reality of what I'm seeing sinks in. A naked, muddy man is running through my backyard—I drop my cup in the sink and hightail it out of the back door and after him.

"Hey!" I shout from across the lawn as soon as I'm out the door. He doesn't stop for a second or even glance over his shoulder. Instead, he keeps sprinting and disappears inside my garage seconds later.

"Dude, really," I groan as I half run-limp after him.

About the most cardio I have done since leaving the city—two months ago—is walk to and from my kitchen to my bed. I damn sure am not remotely prepared for chasing nude weirdos across my property at 6 am.

My chest is heaving by the time I come to a stop outside of the garage. I take a determined step in until the stark creepiness of the situation dawns on me. There's a stranger, a very nude, very male stranger somewhere in the pitch darkness before me. The fucking light is somewhere in the midst of the junk I don't use.

I shiver with unease but suck it up and walk forward, body tense as I ready to spring away from anything that jumps out or even moves in the slightest. I'm not a sissy, but I know my strengths. Cardio, hand to hand combat, and pretty much anything aerobic is not one of them. Acting on my flight instinct, that is one of them.

My mind starts up with ridiculous strands of thoughts obviously stimulated by the wariness coursing through me. The best one: If I sprang on a raccoon, would my face be half as fucked as this situation in the end? The answer is no. And I cringe at the imagined outcome.

I maneuver around my cars and other useless junk—squeaking at any noise that I probably made—before finding the draw string to the light with my face. I jerk back and then let out a breath of relief when I realize what it is. Clenching my eyes shut, I send a quick prayer up to every god or goddess ever mentioned and tug on the string. A click is followed by brightness that stuns my vision for a brief moment. When it focuses again and I take a fearful look around me—I don't spot the man anywhere.

"Where the fuck are you?" I whisper to myself. I'm so damn thankful no one answers me.

My garage is a tight space. Due to the influx of junk, there are hardly any places to hide; so whoever this guy is, he sure as hell has bested me at hide and seek.

A sniffle comes from behind me.

I spring forward instantly, crashing into a bag of golf clubs that clamber onto the concrete floor loudly. You don't even fucking golf! I hiss at myself mentally.