Taya watched Etienne as he moved with sure grace around her quaint, postage stamp-sized kitchen. He moved so fluidly for such a large, muscular man, it was like a dance, and she found herself lulled into a trance as she watched him.

“Do you take sugar?”

She jerked her head up, torn from her reverie and shook her head. “Honey. It’s in the cabinet right above the stove.”

He reached for it and her gaze was instantly drawn to the breadth of his wide shoulders as his thin, cotton sweater pulled tight across his muscles.

After what had almost happened, she should probably find that strength intimidating, but instead, she felt only comforted.

And a little jiggly in the tummy.

Lord, was he fine. The more surreal the night became to her—almost like what had happened before was a nightmare and this part was a dream—the more she realized exactly how extraordinary he was.

His hair wasn’t blond. It was a true, burnished gold that caught the light when he moved. When he’d stood over her earlier by the tree, it had shone like a halo, and even now, her fingers itched to touch it. His face was so beautiful, it would’ve made Michelangelo weep. Square jaw, regal nose, lips that were firm without being hard, and eyes that were brown shot with more of the same gold as his hair.

“Think toast might settle your stomach, cher?”

She didn’t know what cher meant, but it felt nice and warmed her insides when he said it.

“I don’t think I could eat anything right now, but thank you.”

He nodded and made short work of the tea, going so far as to dunk the bag for her and stir in the honey. He set down the fussy little cup with a click and stepped back.

“Drink up.”

She curled her hands around it, letting the heat soak into her bones for a long moment before taking a sip.

“Delicious, thanks.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and folded his big frame into the chair across from her. “I know you’re still very shaken up, but I think the sooner we get your thoughts down about the assailants, the more clear your memory will be. Why don’t you go ahead and change into something that makes you more comfortable, maybe some fuzzy socks and flannel pj’s, and I will call the police? Then we can sit together and jot down any details you might remember while we wait for them to get here.”

She took another sip of tea, trying not to feel glum about the fact that he assumed she would have fuzzy socks and flannel pajamas at the ready and worked up a smile. “Sounds good to me.”

She stood in her tattered prom dress and winced as she realized again how she must look to him. She smoothed a hand over the taffeta and moved to adjust her glasses, wincing as she remembered what had happened. One wire-framed lens sat on the table between them, the last remnant of her ocular solvency.

But at least she wasn’t dead.

As mantras went, she was kind of fond of that new one and decided to work it into the rotation. She snagged her teacup off the table and moved toward the stairs. “If the police ask, tell them the address is fourteen twelve Maplewood. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

She made her way up the stairs, feeling stronger with each step. It had been a brutal, terrifying night, but she’d made it. Now, she had a job to do, and that sense of purpose would carry her through. Thank god for Etienne.

Thank god he’d heard her scream.

Thank god he hadn’t turned away and decided to mind his own business.

And thank god he was here now, ready and willing to make sure these men never put anyone else through what they’d put her through tonight.

She stepped into her bedroom and the relative darkness made her shiver. She all but ran to the bedside lamp and flicked it on with a whimper.

No. No frigging way was she going to let them steal the comfort and security of her home. They wouldn’t be here. They didn’t even know where she lived. It was a random attack born of opportunity. It wasn’t like they were going to find her so they could finish the job they’d started. And in the event that they planned to regroup and try again with someone else, she was going to make sure they were in jail long before.

She set down her cup and quickly changed out of her dress and into the suggested outfit, complete with oversized slippers, before heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash the dirt, grime, and tear tracks from her face.

She stared in the mirror as she patted her cheeks dry and winced.

Geez. Worse than she thought. Already, an egg was forming over one eye and her chin was turning a mottled blue. How ironic considering, just that afternoon, she’d been staring in this same mirror thinking how plain she was and how she wished she had even one thing that got her noticed.

Looking like she’d taken a header down a flight of stairs hadn’t exactly been what she was wishing for. Being around a guy like Etienne only made her more aware of just how sorely lacking she was in the looks department.

But at least you’re not dead, she reminded herself again.

She raised her chin and tugged the pins out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. She did always have nice, thick hair, at any rate.

More silver linings.

She shoved the silliness aside and flipped off the bathroom light, pausing to take a quick look behind the shower curtain on the way out.

This fear would pass. It was still too fresh to be entirely rational, and until she was able to shake off the eerie feeling that still clung to her, she’d cut herself some slack.

She walked back downstairs gingerly, making allowances for the muscles in her body that were already getting stiff from her struggle. When she reached the living room, she found Etienne there, pacing with a cell phone cupped to his ear.

“That’s right. Maplewood.” He paused and looked exasperated but then nodded. “All right, fine. That will have to work. Thank you for your assistance.”

He disconnected the call and then turned to face her, mouth opened like he’d been planning to speak, but oddly silent for a long moment as he stared at her with a weird expression.

“Everything okay?” she asked, hit with a sudden bout of nerves. Maybe she looked even worse than she thought and she’d scared him.

Humiliation burned her cheeks and the back of her eyelids went hot with unshed tears. Why it would be that—distaste from a cute guy, after the night she’d had—that would throw her over the edge, she couldn’t say. Probably just coincidence and everything was finally starting to sink in, but once the tears started, she couldn’t stop them.

“Ah, cher, no. Please don’t cry,” he murmured, stepping toward her slowly, hands held high in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t realize how lovely you were until now. I give you my words as a dr—” He broke off and looked away before continuing, “I give you my word as a man. I would never ever hurt you. You believe that, don’t you?”

Had he called her lovely? The fact that he was sweet enough to come up with that fib on the fly only made her more emo and she struggled to get it together.

She sniffed and swiped a hand over her eyes, wincing when one knuckle connected with her burgeoning lump. “Yes, I know that. It’s just been a long night and I’m kind of losing it.”

He stepped closer and reached out a hand to brush away her tears before lifting up her bangs and frowning at the bump. “Those bastards,” he muttered through gritted teeth before stepping back and giving her a tight smile. “I don’t blame you one bit for crying. And as soon as we write down your memory of the attackers, I promise you can fall apart for as long as you need to and I won’t think even an ounce less of you. But right now, we need to focus, yes?”

She nodded, swallowing past the ache in her throat. “Okay. Are the police sending someone?”

He led her toward the couch before lowering himself into the ottoman across from her.

“Not tonight. They’re short of manpower and the detectives on duty are dealing with a homicide on Center Street, but they are putting out an APB on anyone matching the general description I gave them and canvassing the area as well as local hospitals. Anything else you remember will help. Tomorrow, they’re going to send a sketch artist over to sit with you, as well as a detective to take your statement.”

Strange, she would’ve thought they would’ve wanted to get her statement ASAP. But a homicide clearly took precedence.

She tugged the throw behind her over her lap and settled deeper into the couch cushions. At least she wasn’t alone, though. That was certainly a comfort.

“Is there a family member you want me to call?”

Until then, she hadn’t even thought of the fact that he probably wanted to be done with this whole mess. Total stranger who’d done a good deed and now was stuck with her.

She hesitated, wishing her answer was different. “No. My family is all back in Pittsburgh. It’s just me here.”

How ironic, she’d left the Burgh for big sky, small town life specifically because she was sick of the day to day violence in the big city, and now here she was, battered, bruised and terrified. So much for Mayberry.

“Well I’m here and we’ll get you through this, all right?”

She wet her lips and nodded, wishing she had the strength to tell him to go, but needing him there too badly to say the words.

If he minded, he didn’t show it. In fact, he gave her an encouraging, gorgeous smile, opened the pad and settled it onto his lap before meeting her gaze. “Tell me everything. Start with the first guy. Close your eyes and think of every detail you can and just rattle them off.”

She did as he asked, but it was hard at first. The second she closed her eyes, her hands started to tremble, as if she was actually alone in the dark again, walking home.

“You’re okay, cher. You can do this.”

“This” sounded like thees with his almost imperceptible accent, and just that little detail gave her comfort. Etienne was here. The voice in the dark that had saved her. It would be okay.

For the next twenty minutes she recited it all. Everything she could think of, from the way the two men had smelled—grossly like rotting meat—to the way they spoke—one had a hint of an Eastern European accent she couldn’t place, the other what she guessed was a Montana native.

Etienne handled it like a pro, asking questions when she was too vague, and gently compelling her to recall even more detail than she’d ever imagined. By the time it was over, she felt drained but elated. He had four full pages of notes scrawled on the pad. Surely, with that much information, the police would be able to locate them eventually. Maybe they could even distribute a sketch to the local news station.

When she suggested as much to Etienne, he nodded, but didn’t respond, and his golden eyes flicked away from hers.

Those eyes.

“I forgot something else,” she murmured, a jolt of recognition running through her.

“What’s that?” he asked, poising pen over paper, waiting for her to speak.

“One of the guys had these eyes. I know this is going to sound crazy, but they did this thing. Maybe it was the moonlight, or the fact that I was out of my mind terrified, but…” She bit her lip before leaning forward, hoping against hope he didn’t go running out the door thinking she was a lunatic. “They glowed in the dark. Incandescent like. I’ve never seen anything like it, except on Nat Geo.”

“Glowing, you say?” His tone was polite and he took down the note, but she could tell he wasn’t a hundred percent sold.

“I’m serious, Etienne. Maybe they were on some sort of weird, psychotropic drug or something that did it.” More details came flooding back and she gasped. “Yes. That was probably it, because as healthy as they looked physically, they were saying weird things to me, and each other. Crazy things. Things a drug-addled junky would say.”

Etienne rolled to his feet and stared down at her, moving to pace in front of the fireplace again. “What kind of things?”

She shrugged helplessly as she tried to tap into the memory again.

“Something about me being like a calf…or veal!” She thrust a finger up in triumph. “That was it. Veal. And lamb. Almost like they were planning to…” She faded off, realizing that she was sounding nuttier by the second, but also because saying it out loud would make it even more real and the reality of such a thing was too horrible to face tonight. “Anyway, they were talking about me like a cut of meat. So it could be drugs. Or a cult.”

“Okay, we’ll make sure to tell that to the cops tomorrow.”

She stared up at him, not sure she’d heard him right. “We?” she asked slowly, afraid to even hope it.

“Yes, of course. You don’t think I’m going to abandon you now, do you? We’ll get you locked up safe and tight tonight, and then tomorrow morning, I’ll be back to sit in and talk with the police. I’m a witness anyway, and I’m sure they want to speak to me as well.”

She nodded, her gratitude so great, she didn’t trust herself to speak.

“If you want me, that is,” he added, his head tipped in question.

If she wanted him? Who in their right mind wouldn’t want him? He was strong and sweet and her knight in shining armor. Safe and amazing and handsome. A Boy Scout in the truest sense of the word.

He was perfect and the fact that he wanted to be around her at all, never mind go through all this to help her, was a little miracle in itself.

“Yes. I want you. There.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I mean, I’d really appreciate it if you came, thank you.”

Even as she said the words, the tiniest part of her wanted to call them back. The part that knew the truth.

If Etienne Beauchamp was even half the man he seemed to be, she was going to fall head over heels in love with him and find herself in a world of hurt.