Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on the beautiful scenery. Check out that happy family. Wait, are those parents abusing their kids? Forget them and look back at Oz. He’s so damn handsome.

I reach out to run my finger over a scar at the corner of his left eye. His lips curl into a smile, and I know he’s imagining touching me. Sex would be outstanding, but Oz won’t only be my lover. He’s a package deal. So am I. While Oz comes with kids, my baggage is the crazy thoughts racing through my head and making me struggle to catch my breath.

I will not have a panic attack on this date. Mainly because there’s nowhere for me to run, and I can’t imagine stealing Oz’s Harley. Well, I can imagine it, but I won’t ditch him at Silver Swan. The man loves the place. No way will I ruin a special place in his heart by creating a shitty memory of my taking his Harley and leaving him to hitch a ride from one of his boys. Or would he call his mom to pick him up? Would she bring his kids? Oh, man, why do I keep thinking of his kids?

“Chill out,” he says as we walk to the Harley and I consider once again grabbing his keys and running away.

“I don’t like pineapple on my pizza,” is my savvy reply.

“Who does?”

Oz climbs on the bike and waits for me to join him. I look around the Silver Swan and immediately imagine Oz bringing his kids here. Does he hold their hands when they walk into a crowd?

I’m ready to puke as I climb on behind Oz. I’ve spent my life angry, and that anger kept me strong. While I didn’t scream and lash out twenty-four seven, I embraced the anger to remind me of how it would always protect me.

With Oz, I’m not angry. I’m raw instead. Where is my anger to protect me now? I look at him and doubt everything. Is he a monster? Am I a monster? Do we belong together or should we stay apart? What do I want in life? Should I have stolen his Harley and pissed him off, so he’d never want me again? Would that middle finger be enough to shake Oz from my scent? The man is a hound dog in more than one way. Unrelenting, he will possess me, but I might be batshit crazy long before he succeeds.

I hold onto him and hide my face against his back, too troubled by ugly thoughts to enjoy the scenery.

Nothing with Madden prepared me for Oz. This asshole gives me a dirty look, and I swoon. He says something stupid, and I laugh. Even when he pisses me off, I only become more addicted. I want him to pay attention to me and feel lonely when he’s not around.

Except when he is around, I think about long ago vile snapshots from my childhood. Not only mine but Yarrow’s too. And Pepper’s and Bay’s. I’ve known too many people with ruined childhoods to not imagine the same for everyone else. Until now, that assumption never did me any harm. Now it’s making me run from the one person I should cling to instead.

Rather than holding on to Oz, I nearly hurl myself off his Harley before it stops in front of the B&B. To prevent the urge to run screaming from him, I bite down on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. As soon as the Harley parks at the curb, a starting gun goes off in my head. I dive from the seat and imagine running inside to safety.

Oz grabs me around the waist before I get two steps away. “Don’t be so predictable,” he murmurs in my ear while wrapping his arms around mine. “Would Ginger Snaps really run away from her problems?”

“Looks like she would,” I grunt, struggling to break free of his powerful arms. “Let me go, Oz.”

He slowly releases me, just in time for me to wave off an approaching Yarrow. I don’t know where the hell she was hiding before I noticed her, but she’s holding her spiked bowie knife and looking ready to do damage.

“Yarrow, stand down,” I say, putting up a hand. “It’s fine.”

Her gaze never leaves Oz, and I watch her fingers grip the knife tighter. She stops moving toward us. That’s all I’ll get her to do, which makes sense. I’m bleeding from the mouth and clearly freaked out. If one of the other girls were outside, they might be ready to pounce on Oz too.

I pry my attention away from my damaged charge and focus on Oz. He kills me with his casual smile as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I could use some of his mellowness right now rather than the raging anxiety overwhelming me.

“I had fun.”

“You live in Rawlins, Ginger. There’s nowhere to hide from me. Not to mention you think of me every time you masturbate. Yeah, you’re gonna want to get your shit together, so you can find out if I’m as fan-fucking-tastic in bed as you hope,” Oz says and leans forward. “The answer is I’m better, but you’ll never know if you can’t get past your past.”

“Okay. Now leave.”

“Say please.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll keep standing here with Yarrow ready to attack and you on the verge of... tears maybe? I can’t tell if you want to cry or scream.”

“Why do I have to choose?” I grumble, feeling foolish.

“Then say please.”

My temper awakens, struggling to dominate every other feeling including the panic. “No.”

“Then I plan to kiss you.”

“No,” I say, pointing at him as if a finger alone will be enough to stop Oz from taking what he wants.

Oz erases the space between us and sweeps me into his arms. Yarrow starts moving, just as my lips meet his. I throw out my hand to tell her to stop. Oz’s kiss consumes me, stealing away every emotion except primal lust.

Yarrow doesn’t stab anyone, and Oz finally releases me from his dominating embrace. I stare at him, both hating and loving the way he makes me feel. Oz says nothing before walking backward to his Harley. He holds my gaze, never looking at Yarrow nearby. I can’t break free of his powerful pull until he rides into the early evening.

“Why are you outside?” I ask Yarrow as I walk inside.

Following me, she says nothing. Her knife returns to its holster before we reach the front door. Inside, I hear Bay and Pepper talking in the front parlor. Based on the time, I assume Cayenne and Duffy are in the screening room, watching a movie. I don’t know where Clove might be, but I don’t spot her on my way to my bedroom.

Kicking off my shoes next to the canopy bed in my room, I remove my weapons and wallet from my pockets. I climb onto the decadent bed and lean back against the headboard. Through it all, Yarrow watches me warily.

I pat the spot next to me, and she immediately crawls onto the bed. Yarrow rests her head on my thigh and stares up at me.

“Why?” she asks.

“Some boys are special, and Oz is one of them.”

Yarrow exhales softly and kicks off her shoes. Lost in our thoughts, she and I remain quiet for nearly an hour. I caress her dark hair and imagine myself doing the same with a child. I can’t help wondering if Oz is sharing a similar moment with his kids. I know in my heart that he’s a good man when it comes to his kids. If only I can put to rest my lifelong distrust of fathers—if not men in general—Oz and I might be perfect together. If only...