My fingertips were so numb from the cold that I couldn’t feel the gas station door handle as I pulled it open. I could tell by the number of cars out front that the convenience store was busy, but I was freezing and needed to wash my face, so I couldn’t wait any longer. Not to mention, at this time of night, my options were limited; it was almost eleven—or maybe after, I wasn’t sure. I had no idea how far it was to the next open store with a public restroom, and I wasn’t about to take a chance.

I kept my head down and moved toward the back corner. Not having a clue where the restroom was, I figured I’d be able to locate it better once I was inside and away from prying eyes. Just as long as I didn’t look at anyone or call attention to myself, I’d be—

Something hard clipped my shoulder and knocked me off balance. When I went to catch myself, my hand got stuck in the front pocket of my jeans. Thankfully, someone grabbed my arm and steadied me, allowing me the time I needed to find my footing. I didn’t dare look up. The large, scuffed, black boots indicated this was a guy—as if I wasn’t able to guess that by his strong grip or the sweet, sweet smell that wafted off him.

“You okay?” Oh, God. That voice. So deep and rumbly. It vibrated over my body from head to toe and washed away the chill that had embedded itself in my bones since I’d left the house. It was enough of a shock and a comfort to pull my gaze from his feet to his face. And instantly, his brow furrowed and his gaze hardened. “What the hell…?”

It took me a moment to break out of the lustful haze his voice had cast over me. And when I did, I quickly remembered the blood on my face. Immediately, I turned away, focusing on the yellowed linoleum tiles. I was stupid to think I could get in and out without anyone noticing. And now that he had, I wasn’t sure I could get away without causing more of a scene. His grip tightened just enough to prevent me from moving past his solid body, yet it wasn’t enough to alarm me.

“Hey, sweetheart, hold on. What happened? Are you okay?” His words and tone caused my head to spin. Beneath the harsh, nearly unrelenting growl, there was an undercurrent of compassion softening the grit. And to top it off, the way he said “sweetheart” made my knees go weak and my insides melt.

He carefully guided his free hand over my shoulder and to my neck, preventing me from turning away. At first, it startled me. His gentle touch, his fingers gliding along my throat, skyrocketed my heart and stifled my lungs. Then his heated palm cradled my cheek. When his thumb slid down my jaw to my chin, my anxiety began to wane. He didn’t force me to look at him. He didn’t turn my head or tip my chin. His subtle nudges were enough to tell me he wanted to see my face but wouldn’t force it. It was more of an encouragement.

And there was something in me that longed to give him what he silently requested. However, nothing good could’ve come from it, so I dismissed the desire to let this beautiful stranger save me. Instead, I attempted to forge ahead on my plight to find the ladies’ room. After all, it wasn’t like he could really save me. The idea of him—or anyone, for that matter—rescuing me was nothing more than a precious lie I yearned to believe…but a lie all the same.

“Hey, hey, hey…” he soothed as best as he could with such a gravelly tone. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to see that you’re all right.”

“I have to use the bathroom.” I wasn’t sure if he had heard me. It took a lot of strength to get those words out, yet they barely seeped past my lips, mostly filled with air and a cracked, hoarse voice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. Please? Can you just…” He huffed a breath of frustration—the first sign of anything other than compassion in the sixty seconds since I ran into him.

His hand dropped away from my cheek when I tried to move to the left, but his grip on my arm tightened the smallest amount. Now, he shifted to stand completely in front of me and held me by both shoulders. I had nowhere left to look except at his chest. There was nothing to see other than a black pullover jacket, the strings from the hoodie dangling on either side of the center.

But that smell…

I was so close that every breath I took brought in another lungful of that rich, masculine scent. I couldn’t place it, had no clue what the notes were or what it even resembled. All I knew was that when I closed my eyes and inhaled, I could vividly picture this brute of a man standing in a forest, a stream lapping at his feet where an ice chest sat full of fresh trout. A bead of sweat dripping down his defined chest, only stopping at the waistband of his low-slung jeans, all while he stared at me and called me “sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart,” he said again, just like he did in my fantasy. “If you don’t answer me, I’m gonna get the clerk to come over here or call someone for help.”

That was enough of a threat—or promise—to make me pull away and meet his concerned gaze. And, God…I wish I hadn’t. The compassion I’d heard in his voice earlier lined his strong, powerful features. Then, in an instant, it vanished. The worried ripples in his brow hardened into rigid, white creases taut with anger and marred with vengeance.

“I’m fine. I promise. I just need to use the bathroom.”

He shook his head, never taking his eyes off my face. “You didn’t sound fine just a second ago. You started to moan or something, and you swayed a little.” He slipped his hands over my shoulders, up along my throat, and held my head still with his thumbs on my cheeks. It was spellbinding the way he examined me with his dark, intense stare. “How’s your head? I’m worried you might have a concussion.”

Now he was just being dramatic. I hadn’t seen my face, so I had no idea what I even looked like, but there was no way I had a concussion. “No, honestly…I’m fine. You just smell really good.” Okay, so maybe I did have a concussion. It was the only explanation for why I’d admit that aloud.

One corner of his mouth hitched into a humored smirk, and the anger in his eyes disappeared.

I needed to get away from this guy before the fire in my cheeks burnt the gas station down. “I swear, I’m okay. I didn’t even hit my head. It just looks worse than it is, which is why I need to go to the restroom to clean up.”

His mouth twitched the slightest bit, and he narrowed his gaze. “How’d this happen? Were you in an accident?” His heavy baritone hung in the air while his focus shifted over my head toward the glass windows lining the front of the convenience store.

“I turned too fast and ran into a door.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” His inquisitive tone taunted me, as if accusing me of lying without using the words.

“It’s my face, isn’t it? Did you see it happen? Were you there?” My bottom lip stung when I fought to restrain my anger. I had to calm down before my pain had a chance to give me away, and knitting my brows only intensified the ache surrounding my temple.

“No…wait.” His words were soft and pleading, full of sincerity. He dropped his hand from my face, dragging his fingertips along the length of my arm until he had a light hold around my wrist. “That’s not what I meant. I just can’t imagine a door doing…this.”

“Well, it did.” I grabbed the straps of my backpack near my shoulders, my thumbs hooked beneath them, and straightened my spine. I needed to get out of here before we drew more attention to ourselves than we already had. Two people could only have a private conversation near the nacho cheese rack for so long before someone began to question it. “Now…if you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up.”

Oddly enough, he didn’t argue. He didn’t fight or try to detain me. Instead, he stepped aside, giving me the opportunity to pass through the narrow space between his large frame and the boiled peanut station. I didn’t smile or show an ounce of gratitude, and as soon as I glanced up and saw the sign for the ladies’ room, I breathed a sigh of relief.

It was warmer in the convenience store than it was out. My hands were no longer frozen, which made it impossible to ignore the chill that ran up my arm when I grabbed the cold handle to the bathroom. I twisted and pushed at the same time, fully anticipating the door to fly open. That’s what I got for expecting things to go my way. It was locked, so rather than twist, the metal latch bit into my palm as the door rattled against the frame. Someone called out to hold on, that the toilet was occupied, which by that point, I had already figured out.

I refused to turn around—the nosy stranger would be there and had probably witnessed the entire thing. All I wanted to do was hide. From him, and from the woman on the other side of the door. I may have been young, but I wasn’t stupid. Keeping my head down wouldn’t stop her from seeing my injuries the moment she came out.

Having one concerned citizen was enough—I didn’t need two.

And I certainly didn’t need either of them calling the cops.

Luckily, I didn’t have to turn around. Nor did I have to see the expression on Brawny’s face. I also didn’t have to wait for the ladies’ room to become vacant. Thick fingers wrapped softly around my upper arm and a hand came to rest lightly on my hip from behind. Seriously, I’d make the perfect victim—I didn’t scream, kick, or fight. Hell, I didn’t even gasp. I just went along as he guided me to the right a few steps toward a closed door, and then the grip on my bicep fell away. The door opened, a light came on, and in a blur, I was rushed inside a small space.

It was no mystery who stood behind me, nor did I have any doubt as to why. But as soon as I heard the sharp click of the latch, I twisted around, my instincts finally kicking in. The sink was behind me, and I grabbed ahold of the wet ledge to steady myself. I wasn’t scared, yet I should’ve been totally freaked out. After all, I was trapped in the men’s room with a very large, very strong frame blocking my only exit. I couldn’t ignore the way he watched me, his concern palpable in every pore on his face, or how it made me feel.

Safe. Protected. At ease.

He blinked his onyx eyes a few times, and then he shook his head, as if breaking some sort of spell. When he reached behind him, the lever rattled—which probably sounded louder than it really was—and I realized he’d locked the door. I began to give more consideration to the concussion theory, because locked in a bathroom with a man who could probably pull a tree out of the ground with his bare hands should’ve terrified me. Instead, I remained near the sink and waited for his next move.

He held my gaze and lowered his head just enough to translate his unspoken question. Hesitating near the door, he silently asked for my permission to come closer, and without a single recollection of anything I’d been taught my whole life about stranger danger, I nodded.

Had I watched this happen on TV, I would’ve been yelling at the screen. I mean, this was no different than those stupid girls in scary movies who ran upstairs instead of taking off through the front door when a crazy man invaded her house, wielding a knife.

But I couldn’t contemplate the possibly dangerous situation I’d put myself in, because a split second later, he was in front of me. He loosely threaded his fingers through my hair, cradling the side of my head, while he used his other hand to blot a cluster of wet paper towels over the burning ache next to my left eye.

“You were right,” he said in such a low tone that I could detect every vibration traveling through his vocal cords. “It’s not as bad as it looks. But you’ll still need a first aid kit. Let me go see what they have on the shelf, and then I’ll finish cleaning you up.”

I nodded, even if I wasn’t quite sure I understood what he said. I was too busy swimming in the vibrato of his voice. It was like a riptide, carrying me out to sea with no promise of being returned. And God, did I wish he could make that come true.

He tossed the crimson-dotted wad of brown paper towel into the trash, and then swiped the pad of his thumb over my eyebrow. “Lock the door behind me, and don’t let anyone in until I come back. Got it?” It was barely a whisper, nothing more than soft-spoken words grated over gravel; nonetheless, I heard it.

He waited for my nod, and then turned around. I followed him to the door, and as soon as he slipped out, I twisted the lock. A second later, the handle jiggled from the outside. Realizing he had checked to make sure I followed his direction caused a smile to curl ever so slightly at the corners of my mouth.

Without his presence, the room cooled. Each second took twice as long to pass as I stood alone in the smelly bathroom, waiting for his return. Even though I still felt safe, I was pretty sure I knew the culprit of the horrific odor in the room, and I avoided a peek at the urinal on the wall. Terror gripped me at what I might’ve found living in it, or in the toilet in the far corner.

I stood in front of the mirror and took in my reflection for the first time, suppressing a shudder of revulsion—not only at this bathroom but at what met my gaze in the reflection. It was hideous. The left side of my bottom lip, not quite to the corner, was somewhat swollen. Remnants of dried blood clung to the skin beneath my mouth, near my chin, yet I couldn’t find the source of it. Aside from being a little fatter than normal and a shade of blue not commonly found on someone’s face, I didn’t see an actual wound. I slid my tongue along the inside and immediately flinched. Mystery solved. Seemed my tooth had punctured the inside of my bottom lip. I was just thankful it hadn’t gone all the way through. It hurt, but more than anything, it was sore—though nothing like the throbbing ache radiating from the corner of my eye.

More discoloration dotted the side of my face, starting near my temple and ending at the curve of my cheekbone. In addition to the same bluish hue that decorated my lip, there was a deep-red, almost purple spot toward the center, right where the pain pulsated the most. And at the center of that was a gash about an inch long. It seemed to have stopped bleeding for the most part—although, even after Mr. September had cleaned it off, blood continued to seep out when I ran my fingertip over it.

A soft knock came from the door, and it set about a pitter-patter in my chest. I stepped closer and wrapped my fingers around the handle. Before I could twist it and let him in, I heard, “Sweetheart, it’s me.” If only he knew the daydreams I’d have after this.

After I let him in, he relocked the door and quickly moved to the sink with a brown paper bag. I stood still and watched as he produced a box of bandages, followed by a tube of ointment, and finally, a small package of square, white gauze. Once he had it all arranged, now sitting on top of the bag in the sink that he’d lined with more paper towels, he turned to me and held out his hand.

Again, he offered me the bait.

And I more than willingly took it.

I moved closer and allowed him to tend to my wounds. When it became too painful, I fisted the front of his hoodie and closed my eyes, pushing and pulling shallow breaths through clenched teeth. All the while, he soothed me with hushes and “It’s all right, sweetheart. Almost done.”

I wasn’t ready to let him go; I continued to cling to him while he threw away the trash and returned the bandages and ointment to the bag. I wished time would stop, or at the very least, slow way down. I didn’t want to leave this disgusting bathroom, because I wasn’t ready to be alone. I wasn’t sure how many more miles I had left in me in the dark, in the cold. If I could, I’d stay here with him until the sun came up.

“The uh…the door that you ran into, is it here?”

I was confused for a second, but then I realized what he meant. I shook my head and said, “No. I only came here to wash my face.”

His dark eyes clouded with doubt, like he had something else to say, but he changed his mind, nodding instead.

“I guess I should be going.” Regardless of my own desires, I released my hold on his hoodie and stepped away, breathing in his scent one last time in the hopes it would stay with me for a while.

“Well, here…take this.” He held out the paper bag. “I’m sure you’ll need to change your bandage in the morning. Your lip only looks bruised, but that cut might take a bit to heal all the way.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled while accepting the first aid kit.

Reluctantly, I left the restroom. No one even took notice of us, that we were together or had just exited a bathroom at the same time. In fact, rather than the line of people that had been there when I came in, only one person remained at the counter, and from the sound of it, she was buying scratch-off tickets. We breezed past the counter, but the clerk didn’t glance up, not even when the man who’d tended my wound pushed open the glass door and closed it behind me.

He followed me into the parking lot, and for a split second, I contemplated going back inside to buy some time. I didn’t want him to watch me walk toward the street. So rather than look at him, I crossed my arms over my chest to fight off the cold and quickly headed in the direction of the gas pumps.

I’d made it to the road without hearing him call after me. For a minute, I believed I was safe. Until an old car—collector type, not beater—exited the gas station and pulled off on the shoulder just ahead of me. My quivering body rejoiced at the sight of him stepping out from the driver’s side, while my heart cried. He truly was trying to save me, and as much as I wished he could, it would only ruin him in the end.

He stopped next to the glowing taillight and leaned against the rear panel of the car, waiting for me as I slowly walked toward him. Outside, with very little to highlight his features, he could’ve been anyone. And that thought halted my steps.

“D-did he send you?” My voice came out so airy it barely qualified as a whisper.

He blinked, and the red glow of the taillights shimmered in his puzzled, dark eyes. It was enough to set me at ease, to convince me he wasn’t with them. He wasn’t a monster—my fear just made him resemble one.

“Never mind.”

His gaze softened; maybe relief flooded his system, too. Then, just as silent as he’d been since getting out of the car, he tilted his head to the side—another unasked question I didn’t need to hear to comprehend.

“I’m fine. I walked all the way here without getting kidnapped or killed.”

A huffed laugh escaped in a cloud of smoke as his hot breath collided with the cold air. Then he pointed to the thin sleeves of my shirt and the rips in the knees and thighs of my jeans. “You must be freezing. Don’t you have a jacket?”

“Not with me.”

Without another word, he grabbed the cuff of his hoodie and tugged, sliding his arms out before pulling it over his head. “Here, put this on,” he said while holding out the black bundle for me to take.

“Then you’ll be cold.” Yup, I’d just diagnosed myself with a concussion. No one in their right mind would turn down a warm sweatshirt when it was this cold outside.

“I’ll be fine. Just take it.”

I did as he said and grabbed the soft material from his fingers. Everything was fine until he gripped the strap of my backpack to help me take it off. I froze. If he noticed my reaction, it didn’t stop him from sliding it off one of my shoulders and then reaching for the other strap.

“I won’t take it, I promise. Just let me hold it for you while you put that on.”

I was in no position to argue. I was cold, and I needed this jacket, so I accepted his help as I quickly slipped the hoodie over my head and shoved my arms through. While it was huge and practically swallowed me whole, it was also warm from his body and smelled of whatever cologne he wore. I held the front of it to my nose and inhaled deeply, earning a guttural laugh from him. I figured I’d already told him he smelled nice, so there was no point in trying to act cool now.

“Thank you,” I whispered, taking my bag from his grip. I slipped my arms through the straps and pulled it onto my shoulders again.

He twisted his hips and turned side to side to observe the vast darkness that surrounded us. I had no idea where we were, and even I could tell there wasn’t anything around for miles. When he faced me again, the lights from the gas station emphasized the concern in his gaze.

“Where are you going?”

I shrugged, unable to answer him. I mean, I didn’t have the faintest idea where I was, so it wasn’t like I could toss out street names without looking stupid.

He cocked his head and leaned closer, as if he’d misunderstood me. “You don’t know where you’re going? Are you like…running away from home or something?”

If only it were that easy. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Did you run into the door on the way out? Or are you leaving because of the door?”

Without him saying it, I believed he was under the impression I’d been abused. There was no way to prove what had happened, so I decided against arguing with him and said, “Um…both? When I was leaving, I ran into the door, and then after I left, I realized I couldn’t go home. Which is why I don’t have a jacket.”

“Why can’t you go home?”

Had I thought before I spoke, I would’ve seen his question coming. Unfortunately, between the freezing temperatures, the throbbing on the side of my face, the scent of his jacket so close to my nose, and the way his sexy face made me stupid, I did not, in fact, think before I spoke. And now, I wasn’t sure how I’d get out of it.

When in doubt, say, “It’s a long story.”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, lifted his shoulders, and smacked his lips while rocking on his heels. “Okay. I can accept that. Can I at least ask how far you plan to go? It’s late and cold…not a good combination for a girl of…what, sixteen, seventeen?”

“Eighteen.”

He eyed me skeptically for a moment, but I didn’t blame him for being wary. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me, either. After all, I was carrying a book bag, I wore no makeup, and my windblown hair probably made me look like some vagrant child on the run.

“You sure?”

I laughed; I couldn’t help it. “Unless you know something I don’t, then yeah, I’m sure. Would you like to see my driver’s license?”

He shrugged and nodded. “Yeah…why not.”

Rolling my eyes, I slipped my bag off one shoulder and dug into the front pocket for my wallet. I slid out the card with my photo and date of birth on the front and held it up for him to read. Pinching it between his fingers, he bent down to examine it in the red glow of his taillights and glanced between me and the photo several times, a smile playing on his full, perfect lips.

“Thank you, Maggie Abrams,” he said and handed me the ID.

Hearing a stranger use my full name, especially in a voice that dangerous, should’ve sent alarm bells ringing in my ears. However, it didn’t. The grit in his voice filled the syllables of my name and lit a fire inside me. A wild, dangerous, deadly fire. It was something I’d never experienced before, and something I prayed I’d be able to relive again. It gave my soft existence a hard edge and sparked a flame of confidence inside.

“Which way are you headed?”

Something told me that no matter what answer I gave, he’d tell me that was the direction he was going, too. I could’ve told him I was going to the moon and he’d say that was on his way.

“South.”

“There’s lots of places south of here, sweetheart. Anywhere specific?”

“Um…Florida?” I hadn’t intended to pose it as a question. I knew exactly where I was headed, yet my answer lacked the confidence it needed to convince him. “I’m on my way to my grandfather’s house. He’s sick, and there’s no telling how much longer he’ll be around, so I’d like to see him before—”

He carefully placed a warm, callused finger over my lips to silence me, a smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “I have no clue if any of that is true, so save your story for another time when you decide to tell me the whole thing.”

“Another time?”

“Yeah.” He lifted one shoulder and raised his brows. “I’m headed out of town with no place in particular to go. If you’d like, I can drive you wherever it is you’re going. Whether that’s the bus station or an airport, or all the way to the Sunshine State. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“That’s like twenty hours away. And you just met me.”

“Like I said, Maggie…I have nowhere in particular to go. Florida sounds nice, and I’m sure it’s not as cold there as it is here. Since I no longer have a jacket, I wouldn’t mind going to a warmer climate. And I don’t care that we just met. That’s what’ll make the trip fun—getting to know each other.”

“Do I get to see your ID?” Why I didn’t just ask for his name was beyond me.

A hoarse laugh tore through his chest as he dropped his head, shaking it side to side. “Yeah, sweetheart. You can see my license.” Then he dug his wallet from his back pocket and held it up for me to take. At least he was trusting.

Talon McNeil from Fleetwood, Iowa. And if my math was correct, he was twenty-three years old. His photo resembled him, although I could tell it had been taken a while ago. His dark hair had grown longer, and he appeared to have gained fifty pounds in muscle mass.

“Okay, Talon.” I wanted to hear his name out loud, then I realized he was the only one who could make a name sound like porn.

“Does this mean you’ll come with me?”

I was cold, hungry, tired, and alone. Whether I went with him or continued to walk in the dark by myself, I could potentially be in danger. So, I said, “Yes, but first, I need you to clarify one thing. The rest you can tell me during our trip.”

“Ask away.”

“Why don’t you have anywhere in particular to be?”

He shoved his hands into his front pockets and raked his bottom lip between his teeth. “My boss, who was also like the only person on this planet who meant anything to me, passed away. So I no longer have anyone keeping me in town. No reason to stay. And at the same time, I don’t really have anywhere to go. You need a ride to Florida, so I guess it seemed like a good enough reason to leave, no?”

“What did you do? I mean, before your boss died?”

“Mechanic. He left me his car.” He turned his head and took a moment to admire the vehicle next to him. “It’s the only thing in my life that means anything to me, so it’s not like I’m leaving anything behind. He always told me to find my purpose. Maybe getting you away from this town is what he was talking about.”

I’d never understand how such a large guy—a living, breathing brick wall—could sound so small, yet he did. Sadness glittered in his dark eyes and hope lightened his features. He looked…human. Real. It gave dimension to his rough and rugged exterior.

And again, it made me feel safe.

“Yeah. Maybe it is,” I whispered, lost at what else to say.

Apparently, nothing else needed to be said. He took my hand, slipped his rough fingers through mine, and led me to the passenger side. Something about the night felt different as I walked next to him, my side close to his. It was just as frigid as before, the breeze just as cutting, and the sky just as dark. But now, there was a sizzle in the air, a buzzing of danger and a distant melody of freedom. I was right there, on the cusp of getting away, of having it all, and Talon was the one who’d give me that.

He opened the passenger door, and it took me a moment to stop appreciating its beauty long enough to slide into the white leather bucket seat. I couldn’t tell exactly what color the exterior was, just that it was dark. And other than it being old, I had no idea of the year or model.

As he stalked around the front to the other side, I couldn’t choose which one to admire more—the car or the driver. Both were excellent eye candy. I wasn’t much of an automobile person, couldn’t differentiate between a Chrysler and a Dodge, but I wasn’t blind. I could appreciate a well-kept vehicle like anyone else. And it was clear that this car had been loved dearly—and probably treated better than anyone’s mama.

“Just tell me…is anyone gonna come after us?” He fell into his seat and eyed me from the side. “Do I need to find a creative escape route?”

I stalled, not sure how to answer his question. I mean, I wouldn’t doubt it if people had already started looking for me. In the end, it didn’t matter which way we went; if he wanted to find me, he would. So I stared into the side mirror, seeing nothing past the night sky behind us, and said, “I don’t think so.”

“That doesn’t sound very assuring,” he teased and shifted the car into gear.

“I mean, I left a couple of hours ago, and so far, no one has followed me.”

“But they’re probably looking for you, no? Or will soon?”

“More than likely.” I had to be honest. If this man was willing to rescue me, he at least needed some semblance of truth in regard to what he’d gotten himself into. “I guess walking didn’t give me much of a head start. Hopefully, the side roads and dark skies kept me out of the way and hidden enough.”

He reached across the center console and held my hand in my lap, pulling my focus away from the mirror. I glanced at his fingers laced with mine, and then trailed my eyes up his forearm to an impressive bicep filling out long, black sleeves. I couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and muscular neck on my way to finding his face. He had his eyes on mine, and it was all I could do not to whimper at the unbelievable sight in front of me. The shadows cast by the moon and stars through the windshield detailed every prominent feature, every sharp line, every hard and chiseled crease. He appeared to have been sculpted from stone—except his lips, which were full and undoubtedly soft.

“Don’t worry…I got you.” And that was all he said before pulling onto the empty road.