Franklin said he’d be gone only an hour but an hour felt like fifty to me. I whirled around to take in my new surroundings, trying to distract myself from the nerves swirling in my belly. The cabin wasn’t a cabin at all. It was large and overwhelming, and I felt like it swallowed me whole. Thick beams held up a lofted ceiling overhead, and a maze-like hallway led me from oversized room to room until I swore I was lost and would never get free.

I sat down on the large bed in one of the rooms, my gaze hardening on the darkening sky outside of the floor to ceiling window. That was how I had felt these past three months. Lost. I had thought going back to Carlsville would chase that feeling away, but it had only made it worse. What the hell was I doing with my life? I’d had dreams. Plans. Hopes and desires that were the total opposite of where I was now.

But the worst part of it all was that Scooter had taken my boy.

Tears slid down my cheeks, but I brushed them away when I heard the screen door screech and then slam hard. My blood went cold, and my breath stilled in my lungs. Had Franklin already come back? Had he left the door locked behind him? The logical part of my brain knew it had to be him. But my heart thumped hard, reminding me that it could be someone else entirely instead. It could be Scooter. Or the FBI. Or it could be some creep who had been lurking outside. We were in the middle of the woods, and Franklin had left me here all alone.

My fists tightened around the checkered bedspread, my heart thumping so hard I could hear it echoing in my ears.

“Rosie?” Franklin’s deep voice called out from somewhere down the hallway. My breath expelled from my lungs as relief poured through me. Of course it was Franklin. I was just being paranoid. He’d been so careful to cover our tracks that there was no way Scooter could find us now. Franklin had been a special agent, after all. This spy stuff was his speciality. A smile tickled my lips as I eased off the bed and found my way back to the front of the cabin. A few months ago, this whole spy thing would have sounded so bizarre to me. But now, it felt like the most normal thing in the world.

When I reached the front of the cabin, Franklin was at the open refrigerator, his back to me. Brown grocery bags squatted on the marble countertop, spilling over with enough food to feed fifteen Franklin-sized men for weeks. And Franklin wasn’t a small man. Not even close.

Conflicted emotions battled for dominance in my heart. A part of me softened at his effort to make sure I was well taken care of. He’d gone out of his way to do this, all for me. But the other part couldn’t help but wonder how long he expected us to hole up here hiding from the law. We couldn’t stay long. We had to make a plan to get Owen and go. I couldn’t handle the thought of it being any other way.

“That’s a lot of food,” I said quietly.

Franklin turned, and my eyes were drawn to where his damp shirt clung to his chiseled chest. He was by far one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen. He’d gotten caught up in the misty rain outside, and I fought the urge to suggest that he get out of his wet clothes…

“I didn’t know what kind of food you like, so I got a little of everything.” His voice rumbled in his chest, sending goosebumps along my skin. He saw my shiver, frowned, and shut the refrigerator door. “It’s a little chilly in here, huh? I saw some wood on the porch. Why don’t I get a fire started for us?”

Franklin didn’t look the least bit cold. What he meant was, why don’t I get a fire started for you?

“Okay.” I smiled. “But I can’t have you doing all the work. I’ll look through this mound of food you bought us and whip up something for dinner.”

“Rosie,” Franklin said with a frown. “You’ve been through a lot. You should just relax on the couch. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“I like to cook,” I said, which was true. My lifelong dream had been to be a chef before all this mess with Scooter had begun. When I’d finished my culinary degree, I’d had big plans to move to the big city and land a job at a hot new restaurant.

It had never happened though, and it was starting to look like it never would. Not as long as I had to pretend to be someone other than Rosie Smith.

“Rosie…” He trailed off when he spotted the stubborn look I knew I was sporting.

“Just let me do this okay?” I said. “It’s the one thing I’m good at, and I need to do something, Franklin. Or my thoughts are going to continue running wild until it drives me insane.”

He stared at me hard for several moments before nodding and edging out of the kitchen. “It’s all yours.”

“Good.” I exhaled a large breath and felt the corners of my lips turn up into a smile when I spotted some ramen noodle packets in one of the grocery bags. “Besides, I have a feeling your idea of cooking is pushing a button on a microwave.”

He met my smile with one of his own and held up his hands in surrender. “You’ve got me there.”

“Good. Now shoo.”