Terra awoke to a delicious smell. Something familiar and cozy. She remembered she had the day off after Thanksgiving. She’d planned to be extremely lazy during the long weekend. The sound of movement in the hallway and the bathroom door closing jerked her into full awareness. She sat up. What the…?

Full awareness hit. Dylan.

Two emotions engulfed her. Relief that it was Dylan and nervousness because it was Dylan. She glanced at the time on her cell phone. She’d slept until seven o’clock. Holy cow.

She heard the sink go on and shortly after the shower. Since there was only one bathroom in this little apartment, she’d have to wait to get ready for the day. She crawled out of bed and threw on her red flannel robe over her matching pajamas and stuffed her feet into boot-like slippers.

As she passed the mirror over her dresser, she stopped and made a face. Terra ruffled her bed head and decided she looked like someone had run her over with a truck. No one looked like a supermodel when they woke up in the morning accept in television or movies. She grabbed her cell phone off the charger, then unlocked the door and shuffled into the hallway.

The scent of coffee brewing drew her past the bathroom and down the hallway to the kitchen. Before long the coffee machine sputtered and finished the brew. She glanced at the couch where he’d slept last night. Or at least she though he’d slept. The blankets and pillow were piled up at one side and neatly folded. Lying on the coffee table was a leather book, and she stepped closer to look at it. It took a second for her to realize it was a journal and that a pen was acting as a bookmark.

Interesting. Somehow she wouldn’t have guessed that he journaled. Few men admitted to it out loud.

Right after she’d plopped on a barstool with a full cup of black coffee, her phone rang. She drew it out of her robe pocket. Emily.

“Hey, Emily.”

“You sound far away. You all right?”

“Half awake. Just got my first cup of coffee.”

“Understandable. Before you ask, yes I’m calling to check up on you. Everything okay with Dylan?”

Terra could hear the shower still going, so didn’t think he’d hear. “Fine. Why?”

“I’m a worrier. And I know having a stranger camping out in your apartment has to make you feel a little uncomfortable.”

“True. But I think it’ll be fine.”

“Good. That’s a weight off my mind. I’d have you guys over here today, but we’re doing major house cleaning and then hitting the mall later for Black Friday. I need to start shopping for Fletch right now since he’s tough to buy for.”

“Oh, good luck with that. I hate Black Friday.”

“I sort of do, too. But I also like a bargain.” Emily laughed softly. “Well, I’d better go. I’ll talk to you soon, and if you need anything be sure to call.”

“Will do. And Emily?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime.”

After they hung up, Terra considered Emily’s concern. Her friend’s protectiveness was sweet. She was lucky to have Emily and Fletch in her corner.

The bathroom door opened, and Terra swung around. Dylan strode into the living room carrying clothes in one hand and a shaving kit in the other. He wore a dark blue sweater and jeans.

“Hey.” He gave her a half smile. “Good morning. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Well, you did.” She lifted her mug. “The smell of the coffee did anyway.”

He strode toward her, and self-consciousness battled with a wave of attraction. He walked by her to the coffee maker. “So how is it?”

“Actually it’s excellent.”

“Good.”

Feeling a bit awkward, she said, “I’ll make us breakfast after I take a shower.”

She hurried off, and after the shower she not only felt more refreshed, but less vulnerable. She dressed in a long-sleeved red sweater, blue jeans and athletic shoes. She slipped on a favorite amethyst necklace with matching earrings and ring. The bling made her feel more normal and as if this situation, this stalking might go away soon. That she wouldn’t have to rely on any man’s protection for long. Not even if it was over six feet of hot-as-sin, former Delta Force soldier.

Back in the kitchen she started scrambled eggs and toast. He asked if he could help, but she brushed him off. He sat at the breakfast bar and drank coffee.

“So you journal?” she asked impulsively and hoped she didn’t offend him somehow.

His eyebrows lifted a little and then he glanced over at the journal on the coffee table. Color heightened in his cheekbones.

“Yeah.” He took another sip of coffee. “It helps.”

“I hope you’re not embarrassed about it. I think it’s great.”

Another half smile, and this time the amusement reached his eyes. “Yeah, I guess I am a little embarrassed. I can’t believe I left it out where you could see it.”

She stopped cooking long enough to take a sip of her own coffee. “Please don’t feel weird about it. I’m impressed.”

“Impressed?”

“That you’re journaling. Even if it isn’t for PTSD. I used to journal and got out of the habit. I should start again. It can be great for mental health.”

“So they tell me.”

“Do you think it’s helping?”

He looked into the distance. “I think so.” He locked eyes with her. “I only started the journal a week ago. One of Fletch’s teammates suggested it.”

“Your therapist never told you to try it?”

“Nope.” He lifted one eyebrow. “You were a therapist. Would you have suggested it for me?”

“Hard to say because I haven’t assessed you. Besides, in our current situation, if I was still a therapist…well, it wouldn’t be ethical for me to be your therapist at all.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t look at your journal while you were out of the room.”

He laughed. “I never thought you did. That doesn’t seem like something you would do.”

She wouldn’t admit out loud, though, that she wouldn’t mind reading his journal. It certainly could give her insight into how his mind worked. Right now, though, she learned new things about him every moment. So far, she liked everything she knew about him, and that made her a bit uncomfortable. Getting attached to him, even continuing a sexual attraction couldn’t be a wise thing in their present situation.

“Would you like to be a therapist again someday?” he asked.

“Yes. In fact I’m looking into practicing again. Making this area my permanent home. When I first came here there weren’t any openings, and I wasn’t in a position to just begin my own business straight off.”

“That’s good…I mean, that you’re considering returning to your field.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’m not being entirely honest. When I came to Texas I just wasn’t thinking straight anyway. I wasn’t ready to help other people with their stuff when I couldn’t put together my own life. I’ve got a ways to go before I feel I’m ready. But I’m working on it every day. I’ll know it when I’m ready.”

Saying out loud to Dylan made her realize she had come a long way since she first arrived in the community. She was stronger. More mentally stable herself.

“So how did you get to Texas?” he asked. “I mean…when?”

“I moved in with my parents temporarily. Within a couple of days the police caught Allan in New Mexico. He wasn’t very good at evading escape thankfully. That time, anyway. His trial came pretty quickly and lasted a week. The jury deliberated for a couple of days before convicting him of stalking and assault.”

“He never touched you? He didn’t hurt you or anything?” The worry in Dylan’s eyes touched her.

“No. I was very fortunate. Going through his trial sucked. His lawyer tried to…” She shook her head.

“Make a lot of it your fault?”

His insight impressed her. “Bingo.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

The eggs sizzled in the pan, and she turned down the burner and continued to scramble.

“So am I,” she said. “I used to wish that Allan had resisted arrest and maybe committed suicide by cop.” She swallowed hard. “I wanted him dead after everything he’d done to me and to the doctor.” She looked up, half expecting shock on his face. “Then I’d feel the guilt for wishing such a horrible thing on anyone.”

“I hope you still don’t feel guilty.”

“Not now I don’t. Now I’m almost wishing I’d killed him myself.”

He made a sound of denial. “No you don’t. You don’t want that on your conscience.”

They locked eyes, and she recognized that haunted look in his gaze again. One that told her that Dylan had more to reveal about his own life. Part of her wanted to demand he tell her everything right this minute. Yet the feeling passed. He’d tell her if he wanted, in his own good time.

“Eggs are done and—” Bread popped up from the toaster. “Viola.”

After they’d settled at her table with their meal, she wondered how many more breakfasts and dinners she’d spend with him before Allan was caught. How much longer would she need to play house with him?

“When did you move here?” he asked as he buttered his toast.

She added grape jelly to her toast. “I realized I was suffering my own PTSD after I went to a counselor. As a therapist should have known it…I guess I did know, but didn’t want to admit that I couldn’t counsel myself out of it. I decided I needed a different life for however long it took.”

“I hear that.”

She pondered his statement. “That’s why you left the military in a way.”

He nodded. “Yep.”

Silence covered them a moment until she continued with, “I’d met Emily at a conference awhile back, and we became good friends through social media and calls. She knew what I’d been through and suggested I look for work down here. Through Emily I found out about the opening at the school. I knew it was going to be a huge pay cut if I got the job, but I wanted out of Denver. I came down here for the interview and fortunately got the position because of my excellent references. My apartment lease was almost up, so I was able to move quickly. That was almost a year ago. A year of prison for Allan. I thought it was all over.”

“Did the PTSD improve once you moved to Texas?”

She finished a bite of eggs. “As I mentioned earlier, it isn’t where I want it to be but I’m getting there one day at a time.”

“You’re frustrated that it hasn’t disappeared completely.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Understanding filled his dark eyes. “I get it.”

“Enough of my sob story. I’ve started a new life here, and I’m not going to let Allan wreck it,” she said with determination.

A smile curved his mouth, adding to something incredibly warm and reassuring she saw in his eyes. And maybe, just maybe admiration. The thought he might admire her started a tingling low in her belly. Yeah, but it’s just hormones. Doesn’t mean it’s anything more.

Maybe not. But she could enjoy it, couldn’t she?

“I hope the cops catch Allan quickly so I can go back to work next week without the situation hanging over me,” she said.

“We’d work it out.”

She wanted to feel reassured, but the nagging thoughts of what could happen assaulted her. A rush of panic rose inside her.

Damn it Terra, get ahold of yourself.

She placed her fork down on the plate and stared at the table as her heart started to bang in her chest. She took a deep, shivering breath. She pushed back her chair and almost made a run for it. Where she’d run, she didn’t know.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Before she knew it, he was around the table and squatting next to her. He gathered her hands in his.

“Hey.” His deep, calm voice said again. “Look at me sweetheart. Come on, breathe. Just breathe.”

The tenderness in his tone took her off guard and penetrated through her racing thoughts and galloping heart. She jerked her gaze to his. Those damn, liquid brown eyes melted Terra, and her panic slowed immediately. All she saw in that gaze was pure empathy.

“That’s it.” He squeezed her hands gently, and the sensation of Dylan’s big, hard fingers calmed her. “Another deep breath.”

She felt so much better she almost drew her hands from his grip. Instead, she kept them inside his touch, using him as an anchor.

“God, talk about embarrassing,” she said.

“You don’t want to see what happens to me when I panic.”

She smiled and laughed softly. “Okay. Thank you. I…don’t know what happened there. What set it off.”

“You were thinking about something. Overthinking, right? When I panic it’s because I’m allowing myself to think about a whole crapload of things at once. Stuff I can’t do anything about. Stuff that’ll work itself out.”

She nodded. “You’re right. Maybe you should be my therapist.”

“Don’t tell me that too often. I might get a big ego.”

“Nah. Somehow I don’t get the impression you’ve ever had an oversized ego.”

“Thanks.”

She snorted a laugh. “But calling me sweetheart was bold.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “I figured saying that would bring you out of the panic. Or that it would bring you out of the panic and you’d slug me.”

Another laugh bubbled out of her. “I guess I won’t slug you. Not exactly a good idea to hit my bodyguard.”

“Probably not.”

He released her hands and as his flesh slid over hers, her mind went in another direction. His hands gliding over her body and arousing every part of her along the way. As their eyes locked again, she felt that pull toward him, honest and compelling. Warmth blossomed low in her body as she saw something unmistakable in his eyes. Attraction. Desire. Oh. My. God.

He stood and went back to his side of the table. Which was probably an excellent idea.

“Don’t beat yourself up about the panic. You know how it is. Even people who haven’t been blown up in Iraq or stalked.” Silence dropped in for a moment before he said, “Things can happen that compound the trauma.”

“True.” Curiosity pushed her to say. “I sense there’s another story in there.”

“Yep.”

“I’m all ears.”

For a moment it looked like he might not tell her anymore. Uncertainty clouded his expression.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable.”

He grinned. “Now that sounds like something a therapist would say.”

She couldn’t help but smile with him. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” He took another sip of coffee and shoved aside his plate. “It wasn’t just what happened to my friend in Iraq that made me think I shouldn’t be trusted to protect someone.”

She almost said she understood, that she’d guessed he had more skeletons rattling in his closet. Instead she waited silently and patiently for him to tell her.

Her cell phone rang and she almost jumped a mile. She laughed. “God, that scared me.” She looked at the screen on her phone. Unknown caller with no city listed. “I’m not answering that.”

“What?” He leaned over to look at her phone as it kept ringing. “Let it go to voice mail.”

She did as he suggested and a minute later the message tone rang. She put it on speaker and played the message. The voice came through loud and clear.

“Hi honey. Miss me?”

Terra gasped and shifted back from the breakfast bar. “Oh, God. It’s Allan Rivers.”