They spent the afternoon at the clinic where Uncle Pete introduced her to the staff. He fatigued as the afternoon wore down and Abby took him home, concerned by his lack of stamina. He didn't talk any more about the trust, or her inheritance, except to say he’d scheduled a meeting with his lawyer. He brought Abigale McFearson’s leather journal out, presenting it to Abby with reverence, then excused himself for the night.

Over a hundred years old, the journal had weathered the decades with amazing grace. The pages had yellowed with age, but remained supple, not cracking as she’d expected.

He said the contents were meant for McFearson women’s eyes only, but she had to wonder if he'd ever stolen a peek through the years. Knowing her uncle's character, he probably never even considered it, respecting the family tradition. She settled in Aunt Martha's recliner, excited to read her namesake's words. The first pages included a family tree and the passing of the journal through the first-born daughters. Aunt Martha’s name was the last entry with a penned line for the first-born daughter she’d never had.

Abby rubbed her finger over that empty space. She would have to add her name, but how to annotate it correctly? Then it hit her. She was the last female in the McFearson line. Before she finished tracing Martha’s lineage back through the decades, a knock sounded at the front door.

"Coming," she called out.

Opening the door, her breath caught. Drake stood, hand raised, ready to knock on the door again.

"Drake?" The quickening of her pulse caught her off guard. There was just so much of him to take in. From the devastation of his dark eyes to the jagged scar on his cheek, his presence quickened her breath and heated her cheeks.

Devastatingly handsome didn’t cover the presence that was Drake.

There really were no other words to describe him. Drake stood with purpose, his feet spread on a wide base, completely unaware of how his overwhelming presence made her heart flutter.

A storm brewed in his eyes, not of anger, but of a more pressing need. Cotton strained over the broad expanse of his chest, every ripple of muscle outlined underneath. With his height, her attention focused firmly on the cut definition of his chest and the bulge of his biceps. She caught herself staring, and dragged her attention up to take in the rugged features of his face.

He winged up a dark eyebrow, perhaps aware of how she’d been checking him out. Heat built in her cheeks and the curve of his lips bowed into a grin. Broad shouldered, his long torso narrowed to a slim waist, one that arrowed down and drew her attention lower to the prominent bulge hidden beneath the zipper of his jeans.

"City girl," he said with a mischievous smirk. "Bert told me I could find you at Doc Bateman's house. I’ve never been stood up by a girl before, must be something you city folk do all the time. You owe me a dinner date.”

"I'm sorry about last night,” she said. "Something came up."

The breeze blowing in through the doorway had warmed from the chill of yesterday morning when she’d last seen him. The unseasonably cold weather from two days ago seemed to be on its way out. She was happy to say goodbye to the frigid temperatures.

"I was just—”

"You were just getting ready to tell me how you’re going to make it up to me.” He palmed the door jamb and dared her to deny his demand.

Speechless, her ribs expanded with a sharp rush of breath while she stared at him like a fool.

A devilish grin took control of his face, softening the jagged line of his scar. The stubble across his hard jaw had her itching to run her fingers across the coarse whiskers and steal another taste of him. They regarded each other for a minute until he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Yes, I'd love another kiss, but let me take you out on a date first.”

Her breath rushed out as the whisper light press of his lips against her throat made her muscles tense and her heart race. Her fingernails bit into her palms with the struggle to not lose all control.

He let out a strained laugh, his lips hovering over her ear again. “An odd thing we’ve got going, isn’t it?”

Her voice wavered with her response. “What?”

“The air is crackling with the energy flowing between us. Tell me you’re not interested in exploring that further?”

Interested? That word didn’t even begin to describe the need burning within her, but she hadn’t left a bad relationship to jump blindly into another. And she certainly wasn’t ready to land in any man’s bed after knowing him for only one night, even if he’d saved her life. She stepped back, breaking the electrical connection supercharging the air. She needed a breath without his overwhelming Drake-ness muddling her thoughts.

She bit down on her cheek. “Um, give me a second.”

The polite thing would have been to invite him in, but she had a feeling things would rapidly escalate if they were in a room alone together. When Drake didn’t budge, she made a big deal of closing the door. If he wanted to play the city-country angle, then he would wait on the porch like a proper country gentleman.

As soon as she shut the door, she brought her hands to her mouth to suppress a girly squeal, then she pressed her shoulders back, and tried to gain some semblance of control. He’d tracked her down, the same way she’d planned on finding him.

A glance at her slacks and blouse had her mind spinning. What to wear? She ran to her room and rummaged through her suitcases until she found a black knit skirt. The fabric didn’t need ironing and was perfect for an emergency outfit change. Shimmying out of her pants, she pulled on the skirt, hoping Drake would appreciate the tight fit. Since it was still cool outside, she opted for a dark sweater and layered a dressy tank top underneath. She had no idea what he intended—there were few bars in Peace Springs—but if they were anything like the ones in Redlands, a sweater would be too hot if there was a crowd heating up the inside.

She grabbed her purse and draped the coat Bert lent her over her arm. She wanted Drake to get the full impact of her outfit and would endure the discomfort of the chilly night air. A quick peek at the mirror beside the front door, and she took in a deep breath. Her uncle was in bed, and while she didn’t want to leave without letting him know she was going out, she didn’t want to disturb him either. Instead, she scratched out a note and left it on the door of the fridge.

Whatever happened with Drake tonight, she would approach it with an open mind. One-night stands weren’t her thing, but maybe it would do some good to put her ex-boyfriend firmly in the past. When she stepped out onto the porch, Drake was sitting on the porch swing. His long legs rocked him forward and back, but when she arrived, his body stilled, and his eyes latched on to her. She shut the door quietly, taking care not to wake her uncle.

“Holy hell,” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

Between one breath and the next, he closed the distance and pressed her against the door.

There was no preamble. No slow exhale as their lips waited to meet. Aggressive and powerful, he leaned against her, the weight of his body blanketing her with his commanding presence. He wrapped an arm around her waist, claiming her with his strength as his powerful lips took her mouth prisoner.

Her gasp parted her lips and granted him the entry he was determined to claim. His tongue pressed against hers, licking and pressing with a desperate hunger.

She wrapped her hands around his neck and surrendered to the kiss. Her rational mind told her to think this through. It was too fast. Too soon. She needed to get settled before attaching herself to a man, or worse, sleeping with a stranger. What would the town think of their new doctor? But her heart refused to listen and chased those thoughts aside. For now, she was willing to live on the edge a little and deal with the consequences later. If something took root between her and Drake, she would tend to that potential.

He flattened his palm against the small of her back, and the kiss softened with the kneading of his fingertips against her spine. A lick. A nip. A final press of his lips and he broke off the kiss.

With his forehead pressed against hers, they shared an intimate moment. His breath spilled out and swirled into her lungs. His scent, a mixture of woodsmoke, earth, and musk, had her eyes closing and her head tipping back against the door. He followed her, pressing his forehead to hers, keeping their connection intact.

“What the hell,” he said with a weighted sigh. “Please tell me something really important came up last night.”

Her eyes had drifted shut. The press of his lips faded from her mouth, but the taste of him lingered, making her need more. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Hardly any distance separated them. And while she couldn’t focus on his eyes, she didn’t need to see them to feel the darkness swirling inside.

“Something came up. I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I didn’t have your number.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

He thrust out his hand. “Your phone. Where is it?”

“In my purse.”

“Give it to me,” he demanded.

“Why?”

“Because you need my number.”

She undid the clasp of her purse and fished out her phone. Unlocking the screen, she dutifully handed it over. With a few quick taps, he entered his number and handed the phone back.

“There, now no more excuses for not calling.”

The bossiness of his tone took her back. Her ex-boyfriend had been nearly as pushy. It had started with one demand, followed by another. When she made a mistake, his disappointment flared. Within a month of moving in together, he hit her the first time.

Drake had only asked for her phone, but it made her cautious.

She ducked out from beneath him, surprising herself nearly as much as him. The sizzling energy which had been charging the air fizzled and died.

“Um, maybe we should slow down a bit?”

His eyes pinched. “Did I do something wrong?”

Yes and no, but how to explain that without exposing the details of an abusive past?

“No.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but neither was it the truth. “It’s just, being new, I don’t want people to get the wrong idea—”

“Meaning you don’t want me to get the wrong idea.” He brushed aside the fringe of his dark bangs and straightened to his full height.

She placed her palm against his chest. Warmth pulsed from him to her fingertips, their connection strong enough to travel up her arm and swirl around her heart. Hesitant not ruin the evening before it even began, she bit at her lower lip. “That kiss was…”

“Hot,” he said with a smirk.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and balanced on tiptoe until she could brush her lips against his. “It was amazing, but faster than I’m used to.”

Socially reserved, it generally took her forever to warm up to anyone. It had taken five dates before she let Jacob kiss her the first time, and she hadn’t slept with him for months after they’d started dating.

If Henry hadn’t arrived with his tow truck and interrupted what had been happening in that barn, she was certain Drake would’ve followed through on his promise. And the strangest thing? She wanted to know how it felt to be led by nothing other than the flame of passion, because she’d never allowed herself the freedom to find out.

His finger lifted her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes. “I swear, city girl, sometimes I can see your mind churning its gears.” He gripped her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Now, how about we see to dinner? Maybe hit a bar? Monday nights there’s not much happening around here, but we can find a bar with a jukebox, and I bet I can clear the floor and take you for a twirl.”

Dancing?

Oh no! Anything but that.

“How about dinner and a couple of drinks? We can leave the dancing to the kids.”

He wrapped his hands around her waist, picked her up, and twirled her in the air. “Fuck that, you’re dancing with me.”

She squealed as he spun her around. When he stopped, a banked heat smoldered in his eyes. At first, she stared down at him, and then he lowered her slowly. Their eyes met. He pressed his lips against hers, this time giving a slow, gentle caress. Then he lowered her still until she had to crane her neck. A breath in, and his dark, heady musk filled her nasal passages. Her feet had yet to reach the ground, but she didn’t care. She never cared if she ever walked again. Laying her cheek against the expanse of his chest, she breathed out a sigh, feeling content for the first time in years.

“No dancing,” she said.

“You let me decide,” he placed a kiss on her forehead. “I won’t steer you wrong.”