I left my phone and wallet in the little wicker basket on the dresser in my room at the Ten Trees Bed & Breakfast. And it’sfor this reason that I couldn’t just go inside and buy myself some much needed food.
Brilliant move, Taron. Truly genius.
I hug my arms around myself, shivering, and try to calculate how long it would take to sprint the half mile back.
Five minutes? Maybe.
Seven if I slip on wet leaves? Knowing my luck, that’s a definite possibility.
Either way I’d arrive looking like a drowned kitten and probably catch pneumonia just to prove I can’t handle one single night outside the city.
I’m already regretting everything.
The hasty decision to pack a single duffel and take Robbie’s apartment-swap suggestion. The bus ride that smelled like old sandwiches and wet socks. The way I walked into this tavern ten minutes ago full of false bravado, ordered a bowl of chili because it was the first thing on the chalkboard menu, then realized that I had zero way to pay for it.
I bolted before the server could even head back to the kitchen to confirm the order. Which is probably for the best all things considered. The last thing I need is to get arrested by the local sheriff for cutting and running.
Now I’m out here freezing, hungry, and feeling like the universe is laughing at me.
Pace’s voice keeps replaying in my head…You’re not ready for the real world, sweetheart. You need someone to guide you. My way is the best way.
Urgh.
I hate that he’s still in my brain. I hate that part of me wonders if he was right.
I take one step toward the street, ready to just accept the soaking and run for it, when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.
I yelp—actually yelp—and spin so fast I nearly slip.
Wow.
Who is…
Whoever he is, he’s… huge.
Not just tall, though he has to be at least six-four. It’s the way he fills the space. Broad shoulders stretching a faded black shirt, sleeves pushed up to show forearms corded with muscle and dusted with dark hair. Rain beads on his flannel overshirt like it knows better than to actually soak through.
His jaw is shadowed with stubble, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and his eyes—deep hazel, steady, unreadable—are locked on mine.
I don’t know if this man wants to take me back to his ranch or bury me in his garden. But I do know that he looks like he was carved out of the same ancient oak as the trees around here.
My mouth goes dry even though I’m drenched.
“You okay?” His voice is low, gravelly, like he doesn’t waste syllables.
I blink up at him. “I… yah. Fine. Just… wet, a bit sticky. Not likethat. Wet and sticky from the rain.Ummm. Forget I said anything. No.Um… it’s been a long day.”
The stranger doesn’t smile. He doesn’t laugh. He just studies me for a beat like he’s deciding whether I’m telling the truth.
“Name’s Kaleb,” he says.
I can’t help it. A nervous giggle bubbles out before I can stop it. “Kaleb? Like… that’s an unusual name?”
Urgh.
Why did I say that?
What was I even thinking? It’s not that unusual!