I slammed my phone down on the coffee table. "I give up."

Rogan looked up from his laptop. "On what?"

"Shopping online. How does anyone choose? I have no idea what size I am or what kind of clothes I even like. And it's all so expensive."

Rogan stared at me for a moment before picking up his phone and swiping the screen.

"Dallas, calling in a favor. T needs shoes, clothes, stuff for school."

Oh my gosh, Rogan's generosity knew no limits.

"Remind her, discreet." He paused. "Just taking precautions. Thank you."

He hung up and looked at me. "Mrs. Monroe's coming to take you shopping tomorrow at eleven a.m."

"Mrs. Monroe?"

He slipped his phone into his pocket. "Dallas's wife. This is your chance to practice your public story. You came out here to go to school. You're starting at Siege on Monday. She isn't aware Dallas Monroe provided you with cash, a truck, and ID."

"Okay." I hated to lie to people I'd just met, but lying and keeping quiet were second nature after growing up fearing outsiders and appeasing my father. I could do it if it protected Rogan and prevented my father from finding me.

"And she thinks I'm retired military. Do not even allude to me and my team being in Afghanistan—best to avoid discussing me at all."

"What about Blaze and Diesel?"

"She doesn't know them, but to everyone else Blaze is a fireman. Diesel is a cop."

"Okay." Why did he keep such elaborate secrets from his friends? "What if I mess this up?"

"You'll be fine. If she figures out you're lying, it's not critical, but it means you need to work harder on putting up appearances."

"Okay."

"And don't worry about the price. Dallas pays generously. Just get what you want."

"Did you work for him?"

"Yeah."

I looked around at his sparsely furnished apartment. Nothing in his place appeared to be new or expensive. He glanced at me and walked away.

***

I came out of the shower and heard music from the living room. I opened the bathroom door and found Rogan sitting on the edge of the couch hunched over an acoustic guitar. The silver beads of his dog tag chain circled his neck and dipped behind the guitar at his chest. His bare shoulders shined in the light from the lamp. The tattoo on his right arm was an elaborate letter E.

Takoda slept near his feet as his fingers strummed a mellow song with a sad, thoughtful lyric. I leaned against the door jamb and absorbed the notes, as if I could learn more about Rogan if I just knew the words to the song. How could this rough and tumble man who was forged from stone play such a tender melody without breaking the strings?

Without looking up or moving, he stopped playing. The vibrations of his last notes dissipated in the room.

"Don't stop. It's beautiful. What is it?"

"Pearl Jam. Look it up." He set the guitar down next to him on the couch and stared at it. I couldn't help checking out his bare chest. Stark, jet-black stars and stripes decorated his pecs.

"I didn't know you play." I took a step closer to the couch.

"I don't."

"I just heard you."

"I don't play. Not anymore. It was a way to pass time on base."

I rested my hip on the arm of the couch. He turned his head with a tilt of his chin and perused my body from the bottom up. My legs were shaved and smooth. I was wearing a white T-shirt but no shorts.

His eyes stopped on my chest. My hair had made a wet spot near my boobs, and my tee had become see-through. My nipples poked the fabric. Darn. I should've worn a bra.

"Got towels for your hair."

I crossed my arms over my chest, causing my shirt to hitch up. His gaze cut to my thighs, and his eyebrows scrunched. My hips had filled out, and the underwear we'd purchased that first night had grown tight. The tingling I felt earlier when he looked at me returned. Rogan and I were no longer rescuer and freed captive. Somehow we'd become man and woman.

Oh gosh, what was I thinking? I barely knew Rogan. He'd told me nothing about himself, and yet his eyes claimed my body like it belonged to him. I belonged to no one for the first time in my life. Before anything more developed between us, he'd have to divulge some of his secrets.

"Why were you in Afghanistan the day you rescued me?"

His back stiffened and his face hardened into steel. "That's classified."

"Why? Did you know I was being held hostage?"

"No. I knew those men had a history of taking American women hostage. I knew you were in grave danger the second I saw you. Don't talk about it to anyone, hear me?"

"I won't—"

"And don't ask any more fucking questions." His voice went from controlled to harsh. "We need to get you your own place."

My heart plunged into the pit of a bottomless well. He wanted me to leave now? I was just settling into life in the outside world. I'd enjoyed the time we'd spent together and our conversations. And despite my efforts to keep Rogan at a distance, I'd developed a crush on him and fooled myself into thinking he might like me in return. But he considered me a nuisance, a charity case he couldn't wait to get off his hands. I didn't fit into his life at all.

"I'll start looking for a place tomorrow."

I walked into my room and leaned against the closed door. The crash of mangled guitar strings striking the wall resounded through the apartment. Followed by the dull thud of wood hitting the floor. I flinched, cupping a hand over my mouth.

***

The next morning, I hid in my room and got ready for my shopping trip. I couldn't face Rogan after our tense discussion and guitar smashing last night. A message beeped on my phone.

R: Playlist for you

I clicked on the link and it took me to a Spotify playlist titled "Beyond Taylor Swift."

The first song was the Pearl Jam one he'd played last night. "Better Man." The singer had the sexiest voice I'd ever heard. I scrolled through the list. Some artists I'd heard of like The Doors, but lots I hadn't like Zac Brown Band and Dusty Springfield. I sat down on the bed to listen, but Rogan's knock on the bedroom door startled me.

"Mrs. Monroe's here to take you shopping."

"I'll be right there."

My hands shook as I tucked my hair behind my ears again. No braid for me today. Meeting my boss's wife and going on a real shopping trip might be commonplace for other girls, but for me, it was monumental.

As I made my way to the living room, Rogan opened the door wide and a curvy brunette walked straight toward me. A second woman with long, red hair lingered in the doorway by Rogan. He glanced at her but didn't change his stern expression. She took a deep breath and joined her friend next to me.

A bulky man stood outside the door instead of coming inside. He turned sideways, clasping one wrist with the other hand. His jeans stretched tight on his legs as he widened his stance and pulled his shoulders back. Rogan gave him a slight nod and closed the door.

"Tessa, this is Mrs. Monroe," he pointed to the brunette, "and Tori."

Tori looked back at Rogan, and he met her gaze. I could not read a darn thing on their faces, but some understanding passed between them.

"Oh please. I'm Cyan. Nice to meet you." She embraced me and brushed her cheek against mine. Her vanilla perfume tickled my nose. "So, I hear you're new to Boston and looking for a bargain?"

I nodded because even if Rogan said not to worry, I needed to be careful how I spent the money.

"Have you been to Burlington Mall yet?"

"No."

"Oh, girl. You gotta go to the promised land. Do you need shoes? Please say you need shoes."

"I need shoes."

She clapped her hands. "Excellent." She took my arm in hers.

I picked up the purse Brock brought for me and followed my new friends out the door.

"Later, Rogan." Cyan waved over her shoulder.

"Uh, bye," I said as the man outside trailed behind us down the corridor.

"That's Lux. Don't worry about him. He's the quiet type." She spoke casually like all women in Boston had a burly guard follow them when they go shopping.

***

Fast moving escalator teeth nipped at my ankles, and sleek floors squeaked under my sneakers as I scurried behind Cyan and Tori, who were clearly in their element and felt no need to slow down to admire a flower arrangement or window display. These two women were on a mission and knew where to go and exactly how to ignore distractions. Somehow Lux managed to keep up with our mad dashes from store to store.

At the first store we entered, I held up a sparkly T-shirt with gems appliqued into fun swirls and scrolls. "I like this one," I said to Cyan.

Her eyes bugged out. "Oh, you like the diamanté? Me too! A girl's gotta bring her own sparkles sometimes, liven up boring everyday old life!"

Once Cyan realized I liked sparkles, she picked me the perfect pair of skinny jeans with rhinestones in fancy designs covering the pockets and trailing down the legs.

"These fit. Size seven. But those fit too and they're size six," I said to Cyan, holding up two pairs of jeans.

"Don't you hate how sizing isn't consistent?"

"Mmm-hmm." I had no idea sizes weren't consistent, but I guess I was right about the internet being confusing. If the sizes were different, I'd have to try them on. I encountered the same dilemma with the shoes. My feet fit snugly in a six and a half or had more room in a size seven.

Cyan spoke quickly and added shoes to her cart without even trying them on. "You never know when you might need pink heels, or purple gym shoes, or golden sandals, and you always need killer boots. Oh, look, these are on sale!"

Tori nodded her agreement as she followed behind Cyan like Cyan was speaking the gospel.

"Let's get new makeup," Tori declared as if women got new makeup every time they went shopping.

"I don't, I mean, I don't really wear much makeup."

"And you don't need it. You're so pretty. But, let's do it anyway. For fun."

Cyan and Tori marched into Sephora and purchased a complete set of all the "must haves" of the season, unaware this was my first season ever.

"Can I do a free makeup application for you?" the attractive girl at the counter asked me.

"Sure."

I watched as she dabbed foundation on my face making me look paler than I already was. Then she slowly stenciled brown liquid eyeliner, dusted rose on my cheeks with a soft fluffy brush, and applied three layers of light pink color on my lips. "You have gorgeous big blue eyes. I'm just outlining them with a little smoke. Your cheekbones are exceptional. Just add bronzer here to accentuate them."

When she was done, I tried not to act surprised, but I didn't recognize the girl in the mirror. She hadn't gone too extreme or dark. I was still me, but fresh and light and happy and colorful.

Cyan's smile held mischief, as if she knew how much this meant to me. She hugged me like my sisters used to hug me, loving and warm. "You look incredible."

They took me through the jewelry department at Neiman Marcus. "Ooh, Tessa. Look at these." Cyan held up a set of chandelier earrings with blooms of dainty rubies and diamonds dangling from invisible chains. The price tag said twenty-five hundred dollars.

"Wow, so beautiful." I rubbed my earlobe. I couldn't imagine wearing crafted art like the earrings Cyan held up. They looked like something a princess should wear. "I don't have pierced ears."

"What? Do you wear clip-ons?"

"No."

"You mean you've never worn earrings?" Tori asked.

I shook my head.

"Do you want to?" Cyan asked with her eyebrows pulled together.

Did I accidentally say something to tip them off about me? Was getting your ears pierced a rite of passage in the outside world?

"I don't know. Yes. I think so."

Cyan marched me straight to a piercing counter.

"It'll hurt initially, but after a few days, you won't feel it at all. You wanna do it?"

"Yes."

"What kind of earrings would you like?" The technician pointed to a display of silver and gold balls and rings, but my eyes glued to the colored gems.

"These are birthstones. What month is your birthday?"

My real birthday or my fake birthday? Fake, of course. "July."

"July is ruby." She pointed to two sparkling red stones rounded with silver edges.

"Then I'll take ruby, please."

Cyan and Tori smiled with anticipation like I was their child getting her first piercing.

The technician marked my earlobes with black dots and showed them to me in a mirror. "Like that?"

"Yes, looks good."

She loaded the rubies into a device that looked like a staple gun. "I'll put some alcohol and a little numbing gel. It'll sting for a moment."

"Okay."

She pressed the cold metal to my ear. With a snap, a sharp pinch struck my ear, and I squeezed Cyan's hand.

"One more."

I anticipated the pinch on the other ear and didn't flinch as hard.

"All done."

She held up a mirror, and my fingers rubbed the sensitive skin on my lobe and the hard stone now residing there. This color was mine and I was free to wear it. I felt the sting of tears before my eyes started blinking.

"Aww. What's wrong? Does it hurt?"

"Huh?" I dropped my hand from my ear and focused on Cyan. "No. I'm just happy."

"You always remember your first earrings."

I nodded and dabbed at the corner of my eye, trying not to mess up my makeup. I'd never forget this moment.

"I remember mine because I slipped them in my purse and walked out of the store without paying," she said matter-of-factly.

"You stole them?"

"Mmm-hmm. Got caught. The store manager said she wouldn't call the cops if I promised to leave and never come back. I felt terrible."

Oh, Cyan. I took a necklace. I know how you feel.

I held my words in. I couldn't give away more than I already had by not wearing makeup, or earrings, or knowing how to shop.

We passed a hair salon. "Want to get your hair cut?"

I imagined the tears I'd cry through the cutting of these locks I'd been forced to wear my entire lifetime. "Not today."

At Victoria's Secret, Cyan bought garters and stockings that looked uncomfortable and useless. She explained most women don't wear stockings anymore but she liked them because they're sexy—and her husband was crazy about them. I splurged on thong underwear, nighties, and colorful bra and panty sets.

My final purchase of the day was for my dad. To piss him off, I bought the shortest pair of cutoff jeans I could find with bright red sparkles on the pockets. I tried them on with heels, but I was too wobbly to walk in the mall, and I didn't want Cyan and Tori to see my lack of experience, so I wore a pair of chocolate suede boots with a low heel and strutted out of the store with a smile on my face.

Come get me, Satan.

"Oh, girl. Those shorts are to die for on you," Tori said as we walked to lunch.

Ha! If she only knew my father would actually kill me for wearing them.

***

"He's not going to join us?" I pointed my thumb at Lux who stood at the bar of the sports themed restaurant Cyan had chosen for lunch.

"No. He likes to watch hockey from the TV in the bar," Cyan answered.

I glanced over my shoulder at Lux. He stood with his back to the screen and scanned the restaurant with the same alert caution I'd seen in Rogan's eyes so many times.

"Why do you have a bodyguard?" I asked Cyan.

She shared a look with Tori before leaning forward. "My husband is a little, uh, overprotective," she whispered.

Tori chuckled and exchanged a knowing grin with Cyan.

"Are you comfortable with that?" Was she under the thumb of some tyrannical dictator like my father?

She shrugged and peeked over at Lux before returning her attention to me. "It took some getting used to. I've been alone most of my life, now I have constant company. But Dallas feels it's necessary to protect me and it eases his mind. It's a small concession on my part compared to all he gives me in return." She twirled the rocks on her left ring finger.

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

"Is he faithful?"

Her eyebrows rose, and she shared another look with Tori. "Yes. We hit a few bumps in the beginning, but he's proven his trustworthiness to me. There's no one else for either of us. It's easy with the right person."

"I'm excited to meet him on Monday."

"Now his brother, on the other hand, is another story."

"His brother?"

"Brock."

Hmm. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to tell Cyan I'd met Brock already. Probably not. "He's not faithful?"

"He has so many women, he doesn't know which way to turn. I bet if he had a chance, he'd legalize bigamy just so he wouldn't have to choose one woman for a wife."

They'd laugh more if I shared the inside joke with them, but Rogan trusted me, so I kept my mouth shut.

"So how was it with Rogan at his place? Seemed awkward," Cyan asked Tori.

"A little weird seeing him for the first time since your wedding."

A green haze blurred my vision. Tori dated Rogan? She didn't seem like his type. I guess I didn't know him very well.

"Did he call you or say anything?"

"He sent a get well card after I got shot, but I don't expect Rogan to talk about us. He's not that kind of guy."

The waiter arrived and served us our drinks with a big basket full of breadsticks. I took a sip of my iced tea and swallowed my jealousy. Rogan wasn't mine anyway.

"You seem over it," Cyan said.

Tori nodded. "I learned my lesson and moved on."

So it was over between them? "What lesson?" I asked Tori.

"If a man is into you, he lets you know. I'm not chasing anyone around who doesn't want me like crazy." She narrowed her eyes at me and looked down at my hands fidgeting with my napkin. "So, Tessa. Tell me about you. You're cousins with a friend of Rogan's?"

Oh no, Tori had me on the hot seat. "Yes, Falcon's my cousin. Our mothers are sisters." There, that was convincing, right?

"Interesting." Tori's gaze remained focused on me while I glanced around the restaurant to avoid eye contact. "Why're you staying with Rogan? Couldn't get into the dorms?"

"Uh... This was a last minute decision."

"What about off-campus housing? You couldn't get an apartment?" She was clearly savvy and smart, and her tone conveyed she wasn't falling for any of my bullpucky.

"I'm looking… now. I just..." When the waiter arrived with our lunch, I caught Cyan's eyes and cleared my throat, giving her my please help me look.

Cyan sat up straight in her chair and reached for my hand. "You'll have to excuse my friend. Tori's an attorney, always digging for a juicy hidden angle. Even if there isn't one to be found."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have interrogated you like that." Tori finally pulled her sleuthhound eyes off me and turned her attention to her food.

"It's fine. Honestly, I sort of fell into this situation, and I'm not exactly sure what will happen next."

"I totally understand." Cyan gave my hand a squeeze. "When I first came to Boston, I was a mess. I'd gotten myself arrested for prostitution in Atlanta and owed some bad dudes a lot of money. I ended up at Siege in a failed attempt to worm myself out of trouble."

"And then you met Dallas?"

"Yes. I was there to spy on him, but he blew my cover the first night!"

"Wow. You must be brave."

"Not brave. Desperation will drive a woman to do crazy things."

"So Dallas helped you?"

"Yes. He put me under his protection. He said they'd never come after me again."

"I'm so happy it worked out for you."

"It did. And it will for you too. If you want to talk to someone, we're here whenever you're ready."

"Thank you."

***

My bags rustled as I plopped them on the couch in Rogan's apartment.

"Whew! Shopping is hard work." I flipped my hair back from my face.

Rogan appraised my appearance from his place at his card table. A sly grin grew slowly on his lips. "Looks like it went well."

"Yes! Burlington Mall is a shopping utopia. I love Cyan and Tori. I stuck to the story, but I think they knew something was fishy."

He stood and walked slowly toward me. "Maybe someday you can tell them. But not now."

"Okay. It's difficult lying to them and wanting to make friends with them too."

"I know, but you'll get used to it. You got your ears pierced?"

"Umm, yes." I fiddled with my new ruby stud.

"Makeup too?"

"Yes."

"First time for both?"

Insecurity washed over me. Was the makeup too dark? I must look ridiculous trying to be a city girl when I'm nothing but a farm girl who’s never seen the world. "Yes. Maybe I shouldn't have."

I picked up my bags and walked toward his room.

"Your cheeks are hanging out."

I stopped and turned back to him. What the heck? Why was Rogan acting this way? "No they aren't."

"Sunshine, if I can see the crease of your ass, your cheeks are hanging out."

I'm not letting his judgmental tone ruin this for me. I'm wearing my first pair of earrings, and I think I look fabulous with my makeup done. He needs to keep his trap shut. The bags swayed as I propped my hands on my hips. "Are you my daddy now approving my clothes?"

"I'm not your daddy." His voice was deep and his lips twisted like he found this funny.

"Good. Even if you were, I'm not living for his approval anymore anyway. I think I look awesome."

“You're stunning. You know you're beautiful without all this, right?"

"Um…" Wow. Rogan threw compliments out so easily.

"But with it, Christ, I reckon you were gorgeous with your hair braided and no makeup, walking around on that compound, a few cute freckles on your nose. Your curves hidden under a dress the color of sherbert. I bet every guy there wanted you but they couldn’t touch the preacher's daughter. If those men saw you today, they'd curse God's name and kick themselves for not breaking through the walls and stealing you away when they had a chance.”

"Oh." Warmth fluttered up from my belly to my cheeks. Did Rogan really see me that way?

"So yeah, you should have done this."

"Um, thank you." Oh, darn. He said not to say thank you. Did that apply to effusive compliments that made my breath catch in my throat? Oh well, I'd already said it. I spun quickly to pick up my bags and escape.

I took one step before Rogan's front door burst open. Blaze walked in and punched the console of the alarm to stop the beeping. "Boggs—" As he turned, his eyes landed on me and popped wide open. "Swift?"

I dropped the bags in one hand and waved three fingers at him. "Hi, Blaze."

He circled around me and whistled. "Holy shit. You look hot. You're fuckin' on fire. I mean you were a chili pepper before, but now... Whew! Ha-ban-er-o." His hand punctuated each syllable with a swish in my direction.

I stared at my boots so he couldn't see the crimson color my cheeks must have turned. "Thanks."

"I'm serious. You just made a huge deposit in my spank bank."

"You got a reason for bustin' in my door, Blaze?" Rogan's angry voice suddenly sounded close. When I looked up, he was standing on high-alert between Blaze and me, shoulders taut, face red, and fists clenched, as he stared Blaze down.

Rogan's calm demeanor was incredibly appealing, but when he got intense like this, holy moly, sexy overload. His testosterone filled the air like thick smoke.

Blaze stepped back with his hands up. "Diesel sent me, man. Calm down." He looked down and wiped the sweat from his palms on his jeans. "Yolanda wants to invite Swift over for drinks tonight."

Rogan grunted and unwound his fists.

"Whaddya say, Swift? Wanna consume a little brain grenade with us?" Blaze leaned sideways to make eye contact with me around Rogan's massive body.

"Brain grenade?"

"Just a little beer. Chance of tequila."

"Oh, sure." I tried to sound casual. Sure, Blaze, I drink beer and tequila with hot Army guys all the time.

"Come over at seven."

"Okay."

"Later." His gaze traversed my bare legs one last time before he tilted his chin at Rogan and walked out. Rogan glared at the closed door before returning to his work.