My heart hasn’t slowed since he grabbed my elbow in my apartment parking lot.
Trying to calm my fight-or-flight reaction, I stare out the window.
Colorado stretches around us, raw and open. In the distance, there are hints of snow.
We don’t talk for a while. There’s too much to say, and nothing that would make a difference.
Eventually he turns off onto US-40, and we head into a small town. He continues to a grocery store. The car that was on our tail parks nearby.
“You have a baseball cap in your go bag?”
I turn toward him. “I’ll just stay in the vehicle.”
His lips compress. “No fucking chance.”
There are a million things I could fire back with. This isn’t his fight. I know how to take care of myself. But no matter what I say, he isn’t a man to be dissuaded.
“Baseball cap.”
With a sigh of temporary resignation, I grab it from my duffel and stuff my hair under it the best I can.
Stryker shuts off the engine and angles toward me. “Stay close.”
“Obviously.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my tone.
Since I can’t take a chance on my bag being stolen, I grab it and wear it cross-body style.
Inside, the store smells like fresh-baked bread and the possibility of hope.
“It’s okay to relax.”
He grabs a cart and wheels it toward the bakery.
I’m sure we’re both remembering the order we had delivered this morning. Thankfully there’s a loaf that looks and smells every bit as wonderful as the one that’s still at his condo.
After we’ve added that to the basket, he glances over. “That stew you promised me…”
“I’ll still make it.”
“Seriously?”
The grin that crosses his face is sort of lopsided, taking years off his features. He’s transformed from a competent badass to something much, much more dangerous.
Suddenly I’m noticing the way his Henley fits him and the way his jeans hug his powerful legs.
Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with me?
The man’s my captor.
Determinedly I give myself a firm mental shake.
I have no business noticing that kind of thing about him. Or the way he smells—of damnation and temptation rolled into a sensual longing.
“Allie?”
I meet his eyes. He’s staring at me quizzically.
“Sorry. I…” Was caught in a stupid, impossible fantasy.
