The office let me go early. I guess that turns out to be a good thing, I think as I scan my apartment. I have to be out of here by the end of the week and I still don't know where I'm going.

Mom and Dad sold the house to RV full time, and they're currently back east somewhere. So much for Mom's promise that there'd "always" be a place for me if I needed to move home.

The bestie says I can crash on her couch for as long as I need to, but they've got a new baby and I don't want to be a burden. Plus, she's in Iowa. That's a long way away to sleep on a couch.

I have a chunk of money in the account for the moment, between the vacation time I was able to cash out and the severance package the company gave me, but it won't last long if I don't find a new job soon and I'm not likely to find a decent apartment while I'm unemployed.

Right now what I need to get done is figure out how to get the stuff that's going to Goodwill to Goodwill, how to get the stuff that's going to the dump to the dump, and how to get the stuff that's going to storage to storage.

One car load at a time, I tell myself. It'll take a million trips in each direction with my little compact sedan, but I don't know anyone with a truck I can borrow.

Stryker.

I think of the big diesel truck parked behind the store. It sure would come in handy right now. Not to mention how helpful it would be to have a strong man like Stryker helping me load things up.

Truth of the matter is, I've been thinking about Stryker a lot lately. Ever since I got home, I can't seem to get him off my mind.

At least packing up the place has given me something to distract me from how bad I want to email him again. But the whole attraction was that it wasn't permanent.

He made it clear he wasn't looking for anything serious. He doesn't plan on getting married or having kids of his own. That's what I liked. The reason I was willing to share his bed while I was stuck there. I didn't have to worry about him getting attached. We were just temporary.

No obligations, no complications.

So after I sent him the one email letting him know I made it home safe like he asked me to, with some of the pictures I thought he'd like, I haven't given in to the urge to keep in touch.

I don't need him thinking I'm attached. That I'm some love sick drama queen that can't hack a simple hook up.

Even if it's the truth.

Inwardly, I groan. OK, more of an irritated growl. I've been telling myself to get a grip for days now. I've dated since Bryan. I never got attached. That's not me. I'm a bad ass, independent woman, holding the reins to my own destiny, dammit!

The last thing I want in my life is a relationship.

I need a pick up truck and a strong back, not a husband.

A couple of my neighbors in this complex have trucks, even if we aren't exactly close, maybe I can get them to help me out if one of them is home.

Opening the front door and walking out onto the second floor landing, the first thing I see is the dark blue truck in the guest parking space across from my building. Something about it seems familiar, but it's not until the dark smudge of fur in the open driver's side window starts barking excitedly that it registers.

"Ninja?" I ask no one in particular as I squint at the frantic dog that seems focused on me.

It can't be.

It's just an ordinary Ford truck in an ordinary, factory blue, with a black dog in the cab. On any given day of the week in any given American town, there must be at least 7 of those laying around, right?

A man's voice echoes off the stucco walls of the apartment complex from somewhere downstairs. I can't hear what he says, but it sounds like he's talking to the dog.

The dog that I'm certain can't be Ninja pauses its barking momentarily, turning its head toward the source of the deep voice that sounds a little like, but can't possibly be, Stryker, and then looks back up at me standing at the railing and starts barking again.

I hear heavy steps bounding up the concrete stairs and then a familiar face comes into view.

"Jo!"

Stryker looks surprised to see me standing outside my own apartment, like I'm the one who doesn't fit in this picture.

"I found her!" He calls down to the barking dog who, oddly enough, seems happy with the information and stops barking.

"You closed the store?" It's the first thing I think of. He lost a lot of business with the gas tank being dry for so long and now he's here, and so is his truck and Ninja. That means the store will be closed for a few days.

He said he never leaves.

"Yeah." He's standing so close to me, looking down at me with those blue eyes. His fingers comb through his dirty blonde hair, doing nothing to smooth the wind blown tangles from miles of driving with his windows open.

"Don't you have air conditioning in that thing?" I joke, as I reach up and try to help. I really just want to touch him, make sure he's real, stall for time while I try to make sense of the jittery feeling in my stomach.

He catches my hand in his and holds it to his cheek. Ever since I met him, he's had a beard. Not one of those long, bushy ones, more like he only shaves when he feels like it, but the stubble on the side of his face isn't as long as the whiskers on his chin and his skin is rough under my hand.

"Yeah, but Ninj likes having the windows open." He smiles against my palm and then moves my hand to kiss my fingertips. "We missed you, Jo," he murmurs against my fingertips.

The feeling in my stomach goes from jittery to jumpy and I'm not sure what to think of it. For that matter, I'm not sure what to think of him being here, or what he's saying.

I tell myself to calm down and not jump to conclusions. Just because he drove all the way down here without any warning doesn't mean anything.

Funny how you can convince yourself of the dumbest shit when you're in denial.