Chapter 2
Tanner
“HEY, TANNER, HAVE YOU SEENthe new girl? I hear she’s a real looker.”
“No, man.” I smile. “Not yet.”
“I’m sure you will soon.” He winks. “Real soon.”
Who the hell is this mystery woman? Everywhere I go, someone asks me if I have seen the new girl in town. I haven’t, and I should have. This is a small fucking town. We should have crossed paths by now. It makes me wonder if she’s avoiding me. It makes the back of my neck itch. And I don’t like it.
My family has been in Mason since the 1800’s when they came over from Europe and my Kiowa ancestors have been here forever. My greats settled in Mason and never looked back. Generation after generation was born, lived, and died here, so I’m a little protective of the only home my family has ever had.
As I walk to the back of the cafe, I can’t stop thinking about how odd it is that there’s a woman in town that everyone has seen but me. Could she be avoiding me? And if so, why? That doesn’t leave me with a feeling of the warm and fuzzies. This is not a train of thought that is going to take me anywhere productive. I’m going to have to do a little bit of good old-fashioned snooping around before I can decide.
I’m running through my contacts in my head, all of the people I know and love here in Mason that have their ears to the ground as I walk to my usual table. But this moment is anything but usual when I see a woman sitting at a booth halfway towards the back of the cafe with long white wires hanging out of her ears and running all the way down to a phone on the table. Her head is bobbing to the beat that only she can hear and she’s tapping her pen on a yellow legal pad as she studies a copy of the paper so rumpled it has to have been pulled out of the garbage can. She’s beautiful.
I stop on my boot heel just before her table. I’m pulled into her tractor beam and I haven’t even seen her eyes yet. Sure, I see the honey colored curls bobbing around her head, and the little point to her chin, the thin length of her nose, and full pink lips that have my brain spinning circles . . . and other more eager parts of me stand up and take notice.
I squeeze my fists so tight that my nails bite into my palms. It’s been a long time since a woman has peaked my interest like this. But it’s just appreciation for a good looking woman and that too, shall pass. She bites her lip as she reads something in the papers and circles it. The way she dances a bit as she reads the paper is cute. I wonder who she is and why I haven’t seen her around before. It’s then that she looks up and her gaze meets mine. I’m not one to wax poetic about anything—the Marine Corps will rid you of all of those notions—but this woman has golden brown eyes the color of smoked whiskey or those amber rocks the scientists pull out the dinosaur juice from in the Jurassic Park movies.
I let my gaze track down her body, over her full, round breasts that she’s hiding under an oversized t-shirt and down to where her waist hides behind the table and then take my sweet time retracing my steps. I think about what she must look like under that man’s shirt. I hope she doesn’t have a man in her life. That would be disappointing.
Her pale cheeks flush a gorgeous pink and I can’t help but let my mind wander. Does she blush everywhere? I’m hard just thinking about watching all of that red creep up her neck and across her breasts. I lick my lips and let my eyes meet hers letting her know what I want if she’s up for a little fun, or maybe even more. Who knows? It’s been a long time since I have been interested in a woman like this.
What I did not expect was her reaction.
The beautiful blonde watches the tip of my tongue swipe across my lower lip and my teeth nip the flesh in its wake. And she visibly cowers. I have heard of people shrinking in on themselves when afraid, but I have never seen it—not likethis. If there was a way for her to make herself any smaller, more hidden, she would have done it. And if the pained whimper that escapes her throat weren’t enough to get the picture, the look on her face is clear as day—she’s afraid of me.
My lust is immediately cooled by her fear as she trembles on the booth bench. And I know then that this is the mysterious woman from out of town that Jeff was talking about. I see it in the way her eyes take in my larger size and muscular build, the white hat on my head, and the star on my chest. This woman is without a doubt on the run, running from what is yet to be seen, but one thing for certain, she’s t-r-o-u-b-l-etroubleand it’s written all over her face.
