“Surely you don’t need to bring all of these for one night. Pick one,” I say with one hand resting on the top of the trunk. She moves to stand next to me as we stare at the pile of luggage.
“I need all of them,” she states with an edge of sass.
Not having the energy to argue, I get to work on carrying each one thousand-pound bag into the back seat of my truck. At least one of the five is relatively light. What’s packed into the rest of them, bricks?
“Be careful with those!” she squeals as I shove another one across the back seat.
When they’re finally loaded and I slam the door shut, I sigh and start thinking of all the ways I can possibly get her back to town first thing in the morning.
“Wait.”
“Shit,” I say as I almost run right into her. I had no idea she was standing so close behind me. “What now?”
“Please don’t be a serial killer. I know self-defense, but you’re too big to tackle. Just . . . promise you won’t lure me to your house to murder me. I have a really important event next month. I’ve been waiting for it for years and I have to be alive to attend. Obviously.”
I twist my expression and let out a huff. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“Promise?”
The urge to roll my eyes is strong, but I understand that a woman isn’t being difficult by questioning a stranger. I wouldn’t tell the truth if Ididplan on killing her, but maybe some verbal reassurance will make her feel better. I look her straight in the eye and lean forward for added effect. “I promise that I will not kill you.”
She narrows her eyes, studying me carefully, as if she can detect whether or not I’m telling the truth. I reach my hand toward her, and she backs away at first.
“Ledger.”
Her eyes soften as she realizes that I’m trying to introduce myself. A beat passes before she slides her palm into mine. She grips it firmly, and we shake on it.
“Izzy.”
We hold hands—I mean,shakehands, for long enough that the center of my palm begins to warm up. It isn’t until a gust of wind blows the hood off of her head that we each pull our hands back to our sides.
“Do we need to push it out of the way or can you get around my car with your truck?”
“I think there’s enough room to get past it,” I reply while walking around the front of my truck, jumping in, and turning on the passenger side seat heater for her.
I roll the window down when she doesn’t hop in after a few seconds. The look on her face has fear written all over it.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
She nods, slowly, and I reach over the center console to open the door.
“Get in the damn truck before you freeze, Izzy.”
She whispers, twisting her hands in front of her, “Okay.”
Chapter Four
Izzy
The secondI cross the threshold of his house that looks more like a cabin, leaving the blustery cold behind, a subtle warmth envelops me. The drastic change in temperature makes my cheeks sting.
After flicking the lights on, Ledger takes his boots off and lines them up neatly by the door, then moves to the black free-standing fireplace that sits a few feet from the wall in the living room. There’s a small pile of barely-glowing ash and coal as he opens it and wastes no time placing several pieces of new firewood on top.
He’s crouched in front of the fire while he adjusts the stack of wood to his liking. The jeans he’s wearing stretch tight over his thighs, and I bite my lip watching him. I can’t help it. The man has incredibly muscular legs.
With a palm to the forehead, I turn to face the window and chastise myself for checking out this guy who probably has a wife and kids, for all I know. I sneak a peek over my shoulder to look for a ring on his finger. It’s bare. And judging by the space, I’d say a wife or kids aren’t likely anyway. Wouldn’t there be somewomen’s shoes by the door or toys laying around if that were the case?
Not that it matters.
