I idly tap through the new messages in my inbox, occasionally glancing out the window behind me at the dreary view from my office. It was only yesterday that Amy and I left Ward’s Creek, but everything that happened there is already taking on a sort of haze, like it was something out of a dream--and at times, a nightmare.

I woke with chills in the middle of the night because I thought I felt Lucas’ protective hand sliding around my waist, but it was just me, alone once again.

“Stop looking so gloomy,” groans Amy. “This is going to be torture if you just mope around for the rest of your life. I don’t want to be insensitive, but I mean c’mon. Why don’t we go get drinks or something?”

I give Amy a dry look. “It has barely been twenty-four hours. Isn’t there some kind of two day moping allowance or something? I thought I saw that in the girl code manual.”

Amy rolls her eyes. “I must’ve lost my copy, because as far as I’m concerned, there are thousands of perfectly good, waving dicks walking around right outside. As we speak,” she adds. “The best recipe for a breakup is always a rebound.”

“I don’t believe in rebounds,” I say, looking back to the computer and checking an email from a prospective client. Twenty-seven year old virgin female with anxiety disorder.

“I don’t believe in ghosts, but I still get the heebie jeebies every time I walk by a graveyard at night.”

“I really don’t see how that’s remotely the same thing.”

“Doesn’t matter. The point is we’re going to walk away from the computer, go downstairs, get a couple drinks in you, and find you the perfect dick.”

“I’ll take you up on the first three parts,” I say reluctantly, closing the laptop. “But I’m serious. No rebounds. The last thing I need to feel better is another guy. Besides,” I say a little bitterly. “Another guy would just remind me how perfect Lucas was compared to anyone else.”

“Oh barf,” Amy says. “Promise me you’re not going to get all sappy for him if I get you drunk.”

“No promises.”

We’ve only made it a few steps outside when a tingling at the back of my neck makes me turn to look down the sidewalk. Despite the crowded street full of men and women, I see him right away. I see the cowboy hat, the tall, broad frame, and most of all those piercing eyes looking straight into me.

“Lucas…” I breathe.

“Would you--” Amy starts, but she stops short when she turns to see what I see.

“Mila,” he says, rushing in to wrap his arms around me, not caring how we must look embracing in the middle of the street. “You’re safe.”

“Safe?” I ask, feeling like I’m swept up in a whirlwind of confusing emotions. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“You are now. I shouldn’t have let you leave, darlin’. I should’ve never let you leave.”

“Damn right,” says Amy, who I had forgotten was standing just a few inches away.

“Some privacy?” I say, shooting her a get lost glare.

She makes a lewd gesture at me--inserting her index finger over and over into a circle made by her other hand--then heads off in the direction of the bar a few blocks over.

I pull back enough to look up into his eyes. “I’m just having trouble making sense of all this.”

“I forgive you. You were trying to tell me that night, and it was my fault you didn’t. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been, and I only made it harder.”

“But I found out it was you at the festival. I still went home and followed through with Cynthia after I knew.”

To my surprise, Lucas shrugs. Even after what I did to him, he can just shrug and make it all seem inconsequential. But it’s not. Whether he forgives me or not, I didn’t make the right choice, and I’ll have to shoulder that guilt.

“Water under the bridge,” he says simply.

“I don’t feel like I deserve to be forgiven so easily. Like you should be mad at the very least.”

“Well,” he says, letting the hint of a smile touch his lips. “I’m not mad, and I don’t think I could ever stay mad at you for long. You’re too damn sweet.”

I smile, biting my lip and feeling my cheeks flush. How is it that Lucas always manages to appear at the right time? I run my hands down his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his blue button-down shirt and the hard muscle beneath. “You’re really here, aren’t you?”

He chuckles. “Sure as hell hope so, cause that would’ve been a long-ass drive to not be here.”

“You said I’m safe… Just a minute ago. What did you mean?”

“Well there’s the bad news. You trust me, right?”

“Yes. For some reason, I do.”

“Then we need to get a place for a little while. We can grab a room at a hotel under fake names and we’ll lay low.”

I frown. “This isn’t making sense. What’s going on?”

Lucas sighs. “I’d rather not scare you with all the details, but keeping you in the dark is probably just going to freak you out even more, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” I agree, “because getting a hotel under fake names already has me imagining the worst.”

“It’s my brother. I think he’s planning to use you against me. I don’t know how, but I know he wants me to sign over the ranch to him, and he thinks if he uses you as leverage I’ll agree to it.”

“How does he even know about you and me?”

“Cynthia,” says Lucas simply.

I groan. “I didn’t think it was possible to dislike her any more than I already do.”

Lucas grins. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Mr. Chris P. Bacon and Mrs. Dixie Normous…” says the poor woman behind the desk at the hotel. She pauses, clearly waiting for us to laugh and tell her they are fake names, but Lucas and I manage to hold our composure while she types our “names” into the computer and gives us our keys.

We both break out laughing once we’re in the elevator.

“I thought I had you,” Lucas says laughing so hard it’s easy to forget we’re only checking into this hotel because I might be in danger. “Dixie Normous? That’s too good.”

I shrug, biting back a smile. “Your fake name wasn’t bad. But you didn’t dream big enough.”

“Getting a big head, are we?” he asks. He’s holding his hat in his hand, but somehow his hair still manages to look perfect, with just the right amount of stray hairs dangling in front of his heavy eyes.

An irresistible urge almost overcomes me. I nearly grab his crotch and ask if I’m the only one getting a big head, but the looming danger stops me. Just barely.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, reading my expression. He rubs my cheek with the back of his hand. There’s a question in his eye--he’s looking to see if his touch is welcome.

I grip his wrist, pressing my face into his palm and closing my eyes. “Where have you been my whole life?” I ask.

He huffs a laugh. “Waiting for you, I think.”

The door to the elevator dings and I jump back from Lucas self-consciously. A woman and her daughter step in. The woman favors us with an uncomfortable smile before smashing the button for her floor a few times.

We reach our floor and Lucas makes us stop at the vending machine before we go inside. He plugs in a few bills and my eyebrows continue to rise as he punches in at least seven codes. The sound of candy and bags of junk food plopping to the bottom of the machine never seems to end. He scoops the loot into his arms and leads the way to our room.

“Hungry?” I ask with a grin.

“I skipped dinner and lunch to come get you. I could eat my way through this fucking door right about now.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of room service?” I pick up a bag of Cheetos from his arms and hold it in front of his face. “It has got to beat this junk.”

“I’ve heard of room service,” he says grumpily as I open the door to our room. “Never had the luxury of using it, of course, but I’ve seen it in movies.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “You’ve never had room service?”

“I’ve had food. And I’ve had waiters bring me food at restaurants. I don’t see the difference. They bring it to your room. So what?”

“So you get to eat it in a bathrobe if you want. In your room.”

“You had me at bathrobe.”

I giggle. “You don’t strike me as the bathrobe type, come to think of it.”

“I’m not. I mean you had me at you in a bathrobe. Go on. Make yourself comfortable,” he says, smirking and leaning against the wall with an expectant look on his face.

“Oh,” I say, feeling my cheeks color. “I’m starting to think this whole thing with your brother was just a trick to get me alone in a hotel room.”

The amusement slips from his face. “No. My brother is really dumb and crazy enough to try something. The danger is real.”

I sink down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve never even met him. The idea that he’d hurt me seems so strange. I mean, what are we even going to do? We can’t just hide in this hotel forever.”

“I know. I just needed to get here to make sure you were safe as soon as I heard about his plan. I’ve hardly had time to think about it, but it seems like the only thing to do is give him what he wants. I can just sell the ranch and give him the money.”

I watch Lucas and the way his face contorts at even the thought of it. “You can’t do that. You already told me how much you love that ranch.”

“Maybe. But it’s not worth risking you. Nothing is,” he adds more quietly.

“Lucas… You barely know me. That ranch is the last part of your dad that you have. It means so much to you.”

“Barely know you?” he asks, moving to sit beside me on the bed. “Let me tell you something, darlin’. A real man doesn’t need to go on twenty dates to make up his mind about a woman. When you strip away everything--the clothes, the self-consciousness, pretense, all of it--when you take that away all you’re left with is what’s here.” He puts gentle fingertips just above my heart, sending chills across my skin.

“And goddamn if I didn’t like what I saw,” he says with fire in his eyes. “Hell, I didn’t just like it. I wanted it so bad it scared the hell out of me. I thought I must be losing my mind. So maybe when I found out you were hiding something from me it seemed like a good reason to take a step back. But…” he chuckles at himself, rubbing a thumb across his lip in a way that’s indescribably sexy. “Obviously I couldn’t stay away. Could I?”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” I say, a little breathless from his confession. “I feel it too. What you said. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but I really feel like I know you, the real you. More than I should possibly have a right to think I do.”

“It’s not stupid. People make this whole romance thing more complicated than it has to be. When two people are right for eachother, it’s not a logical thing. You’re right for me, Mila. I felt it in my chest from the second I saw you, whether I wanted to admit it or not, like a fucking magnet pulling me closer and closer no matter how much I tried to fight it.”

“What are you saying?” I ask breathlessly.

“That I’m never going to make the mistake of letting you go again, not a chance in hell. You’re mine, darlin’, like it or not.”

“Like it,” I say, smiling and leaning my head into his chest. “I like it a lot.”