I climbed out of the truck and waited a good long minute to make sure the idiot didn't turn back around. I tapped on the window. "He's gone for now."

The purple cap popped up from the shadows inside the building, and her face appeared through the hazy windowpane. "Thank you," she said through the glass. She disappeared for a few seconds and reemerged on the side of the building, brushing vigorously at her shirt and jeans to rid them of dirt and cobwebs.

She was tall and thin and moved with the graceful speed of a dancer or athlete. Her smile lit up beneath the shade of the hat as she stopped in front of me with her hand out in greeting. "I'm Denni."

I took hold of her hand. It was smooth and warm. "Luke."

"Huh, I had you pegged for a David or Bryan. Anyhow, I owe you, Luke." She bit her lip and glanced around. "I could wash your truck or fill the tires with air."

I shook my head once. "Nope. No debt. I'm just glad I was here. That is one mean guy. Maybe you're better off without him." I reached up and lightly touched the bruise on her cheek. I had no idea what had prompted it, but suddenly, I wanted that bruise to be gone. "Or maybe you hit it on a door handle?" I asked hopefully, not wanting to know that the asshole had hit her.

Denni's thin shoulders rose with a deep breath. "Nope, the bastard punched me. Knocked me clean out and then stole something of mine."

My eyes widened. "Stole something?"

She laughed. It was a good sound. "Not that, silly. Jeez, men and their one track minds. Trust me, that cherry was popped long ago. Well, not long ago, but back in high school. No, he took something even more important, and now I've got to figure out how to get it back." She pointed at my truck. "Where are you headed?" She covered her mouth. "Excuse me. My grandmother always used to scold me and tell me I was a nosy posy. Seems she was right. None of my business." She pointed back over her shoulder. "I'm just going to head out to the highway and try that ole' thumb trick you mentioned earlier. Have a safe trip, whichever direction you head." The long loose curls of her hair bounced against her back as she walked away. She swung her backpack up to one shoulder.

Aside from the luxurious mass of hair, it was hard not to notice that she had an amazing ass in her tight jeans.

"I'm heading up to the mountains," I called to her.

She stopped and spun around, flashing her hazel eyes my direction with just enough gleam to make me lose my train of thought.

"To the mountains?"

Her question helped revive my memory. "I'm taking my dad's ashes up to his cabin. He wanted me to spread them out over the forest floor."

"I'm sorry about your dad."

"Thanks. He was sick for a year, so it wasn't a surprise or anything. I mean it still hurt like hell to lose him, but I had some time to accept it."

She walked back to me. "Guess that's the one perk in knowing that you're going to die. You can say good-bye to everyone. My grandmother got up to go to the bathroom one night, and she just keeled over dead. I never got to say good-bye or let her know how much I would miss her."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Happened back when I was a teenager. She raised me." Her lush black lashes floated down as she stared at the ground. "Well, I need to find a ride out of here before Zeke comes back looking for me."

"I can take you north as far as you want to go." The words just fell out of my mouth without another thought. Actually, there was one thought. Emma would kill me if she knew. "So what do you say?"

"If you don't mind? I promise to be a good passenger. I'll only sing when it's a super great song. And I won't eat all of your snacks, and if I do have some, I promise not to drop crumbs. Unless you have those powdered sugar donuts, then the promise is off because those are impossible to eat neatly." She shot me a questioning look that was fucking adorable. "Do you have snacks?" she asked hopefully. "My cookies and milk just left with the creep."

"I've got half a chili dog and some red licorice whips."

"Two of my favorites."

I walked Denni to the passenger side and opened the door. The shiny blue urn was leaned against the seat, tucked in beneath the seatbelt.

She pointed at it. "Is that Dad?"

"Yes."

"How do you do, sir? You have a lovely son." She leaned over and lowered her voice. "He's extremely handsome too." She looked back at me. "Should I hold him on my lap, or do you want me to ride in back?"

I unfastened the seatbelt. "No, I can tuck this in behind my seat. I just didn't want it to roll around and break." I moved Dad's urn to a safe spot, and Denni climbed inside my truck.

I walked around to the driver's side and climbed in.

Denni looked longingly at the half eaten hot dog.

"Go ahead," I said. "But I've got to warn you, it's not like the ones George used to make." I started the truck and headed out of the parking lot.

She picked up the hot dog. "Who's George?" She took a big bite and wiped the chili off her lip with her pinky.

"He's the guy who used to own this gas station. This sounds corny, but my dad and I used to have this tradition where we stopped to have one of George's chili dogs on our way up to his cabin. I thought we'd have one last hot dog together." I reached behind the seat and pulled out a water bottle for her.

She worked a bit at twisting off the cap and took a sip. "That doesn't sound the least bit corny. And I've never had a George dog, but you're right, this chili dog is lacking." She took another bite, chewed and swallowed. "Fortunately, I'm hungry enough to forgive it."

"I could circle back and buy you another one."

"Nope, this is good. Thank you." She finished off the last bite and licked her fingertips, a gesture that grabbed far more of my attention than it should have. Emma would so fucking not approve. Something about that made me extra glad I'd offered Denni the ride.

Denni slouched down in the seat and lifted her long legs so her knees pressed against the dashboard. She pulled off her hat, rested her head against the seat and turned her face to stare out the window. "Hey, there's actual scenery out there. Viewing the world through crumpled plastic was getting depressing."

"If you don't mind me asking, how the hell did you end up with a guy like that?"

She continued to stare out the window. "Screwing up my life—just something I'm good at. Zeke was just another bad mistake in a long string of fuckups." She sat up with energy, almost as if she'd just shaken off a cloud of depression. I wondered if she was heartbroken about Zeke. I hoped not.

A beaded bracelet twirled around her thin wrist as she looked for a station. The only thing she found was a loud buzz, a religious station and a weather report.

"My box of CDs is under the seat."

She curled over and searched for the box. As she reached for it, the edge of her shirt slipped up to reveal her lower back and a string of stars tattooed around her hips. I had to remind myself to pay attention to the road. Not that there was much traffic or many impediments to worry about.

"Ah ha." She popped her head back up, and her hand emerged with the box of licorice that had slipped beneath the seats on a fast stop. The box of CDs came out next. She lifted it onto the seat next to her and thumbed through the collection. She pulled out a Mariah Carey CD and held it up with a judgmental brow lift.

"That one belongs to my girlfriend."

"Thank god." She pushed it back into the box. "The Ramones. Now we're talking." She pulled the CD out and pushed it into the player. Then she ripped open the package of licorice whips and offered me one, before pulling one out for herself. She nibbled it. The red of the candy contrasted perfectly with the natural pink of her luscious lips.

She took a bite and talked over the chunk in her mouth. "So, you've got a girlfriend who likes Mariah Carey. Let me guess—she's someone who likes to buy a new purse for every season and who thinks fun is a stuffy, formal dinner party with friends where they serve tiny portions of weird ingredients and laugh mockingly at the very idea of a double cheeseburger. Oh, and she has a white cat named Miffy that she only allows on one certain chair in her impeccably furnished apartment." She pulled off another bite of licorice and looked at me to confirm her guesses.

"You could tell all that from one CD?"

"Music preference speaks volumes." She laughed at her pun.

"Well, Emma—"

Denni interrupted. "Emma? Huh, I was thinking something more like Linda or Nancy. Don't know why. Continue."

"Emma," I repeated, "is allergic to cats, so there's no Miffy or Rex, for that matter, because she keeps insisting her allergy also covers dogs and anything with fur. Self-diagnosis, of course. But she does have more purses than I have socks, and she likes the aforementioned stuffy parties. I, on the other hand, would rather have my eyes scratched out by an angry Miffy than sit through a dinner party with her equally stuffy friends. She's the daughter of a wealthy businessman, and somehow, I managed to get talked into working for the man. Although, managed isn't really a good word. I was desperate. I'd come out of college with a worthless economics degree, and aside from a riveting six month stint in the corporate office of a grocery chain—and yes, total sarcasm there—I needed to find a job or risk feeling like a miserable loser."

"Yep, pretty much the scenario I was thinking. Except the working for the dad part. That sounds kind of depressing."

Denni reached between her legs and hauled up her solidly stuffed backpack. She rummaged through the front pocket and pulled out a rubber band. She dropped the pack down and lifted her arms up to tie her hair back in a ponytail. It took several tries for her to sweep up the entire mass of silky hair, but once accomplished, I found myself focused on her long, smooth neck. Everything about her was mesmerizing.

Completely unaware of the effect the innocent task of putting up her hair had had on me, she continued the conversation. "Do you like your job with the wealthy businessman who might someday be your dad-in-law?"

"Hate my job."

"So, you are still a miserable loser, only now you have a job to go along with the loserdom."

"Well, I've never thought of it like that, but thanks so much for putting it in that context. Now I can go back to feeling glum about my life."

"I firmly believe in dashing spirits whenever given the opportunity." She laughed. "No seriously, Luke, what would you rather be doing?"

"If I'm completely honest with myself, I want to be a writer like my dad."

She sat up enthusiastically. "Your dad was an author? What's his name?"

"Graham Traynor."

She pursed her lips in thought as if trying to decide if she'd heard of him.

"He was kind of a mid-lister. He made enough to survive, and he'd get really excited if he saw his books on the spinning rack at the grocery store. Dad was always sure he had at least one blockbuster in him. But his big break never came. My mom grew tired of it all and left him when I was ten. She married a surgeon, who happens to be the golf partner of Emma's dad. Which is how I met her and now brings my whole life's story full circle. So what about you? Something tells me you've got one heck of a story to tell." I'd never found it so easy to talk to anyone in my life as Denni.

She put her elbow on the edge of the car door and rested her arm along it. Her fingers were long and thin, and she had a turquoise ring on her pinky. It was hard not to take in every detail as if I was looking at the world's most beautiful piece of art. "Not too interesting, especially when I leave out the humiliating and embarrassing and just full-ass stupid parts. My mom was only a kid herself when she had me, and she wasn't the least bit interested in being a mother. So my grandmother stepped in to play the part. After my grandmother died, my mom tried to reconnect, to make up for some of the lost time. But I decided this time, I wasn't interested in being a daughter. As far as I was concerned, the only mom I knew had been buried in the Pine Hill Mortuary."

"You sort of can't fault your mom too much if she was a young teenager at the time. Shit, I couldn't keep track of my shoes or math assignments at that age. Can't imagine trying to keep a kid safe and happy."

Denni actually seemed to be considering my words. She sat silent, her long lashes fluttering as she watched the scenery float by. She perked up from her slight slouch when a sign for Redmond's Cave popped up along the highway. "Redmond's Cave, isn't that where people sit at the mouth of the cave and watch the bats fly out at dusk?"

"Yep, I think that's the place." I'd gotten stuck behind a plodding hay truck and had finally gotten a chance to coast into the opposite lane and drive around it. The Ford kicked reluctantly into high gear as I sped around the truck. I cleared it and moved back into the correct lane.

"Did you and your dad ever go watch the bats after your traditional hot dog stop?"

I thought about all those trips along the highway and how often we'd pointed at the Redmond sign and promised to go watch the bats on the next trip. But it never happened. "No, we never took the time to do it. Sounds kind of lame that we didn't, considering how many times we passed through here."

Denni shifted to the side and looked at me. "We should go watch the bats."

"I'm sure it's an interesting sight, but Redmond's Cave is probably a good hour out of the way. I need to be at the cabin before dark. There aren't any lights leading up to it. I've got to hike in a mile or so to get to it."

"Darn." Denni sat back against the seat with a bit of a pout on her lips, lips that I'd imagined kissing more than once.

"Sorry about that. It does sound cool, but I don't want to travel the path to the cabin in the dark. It's been awhile since I've been there, and I'm not exactly a compass when it comes to sense of direction."

Denni nodded, and we sat listening to the music for a few minutes.

"Where do you call home?" I asked, and immediately regretted my prying question.

"Anywhere my heart is, which, at the moment, is nowhere in particular. I wonder what kind of sound they make."

I glanced over at her, confused. "Who?"

"The bats. When they leave the cave. I guess you wouldn't be able to hear much over the flutter of those rubbery wings. I've heard the sky gets black with bats when they leave for the night's hunt."

I was feeling not only like a heel but like a dork who refused to take any risks. Still, there was no way I was going to find Dad's cabin in the dark.

"I'm sure my dad would have liked to see it. I'll bet it's amazing to watch."

Denni lifted her knee up and rested her foot on the edge of the seat. Her smooth skin showed through all of the rips and tears on her jeans. "Did your dad have one of those bucket lists?"

"Sort of. I mean, he didn't write the stuff down, but he knew there were things he wanted to finish and experience before—" I stopped just short of saying it. "He had always wanted to go to Rome and see the coliseum, so we traveled there last summer."

"Very cool. Too bad he never got to see the bats."

"Oh my gosh, you are good, like relentless good but good nonetheless. We'll go see the bats."

She slid across the bench seat of the truck and threw her arms around my neck. Her soft lips pressed against my cheek. "I'm so excited."

I was still reeling from the simple kiss on my cheek and the feeling of having her arms around me when she sat back with a satisfied smile. She didn't move back to the passenger's side but stayed right next to me, her thigh pressed tightly against mine and her shoulder rubbing against me. A sweet, flowery scent drifted up from her hair, and it made my head spin. She was a complete stranger, a beautiful, fun, energetic stranger and something told me scattering Dad's ashes wasn't going to be the only profound and memorable part of my trip to the cabin.