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"You should be checked out."
"My entire family would show up like avenging angels." Her hand lifted shakily to her brow.
"It would be better to make certain you're not hurt."
"I'm fine." She took a deep breath. "I'm just shaky."
"Too shaky to drive--"
"I have to find my keys." She shook her head slowly. "Help me find my keys." Her keys were at her feet.
Bending, Nik picked them up, holding them away from her as she reached out for them.
"Hospital, or I can drive you home. Take your pick." Mikayla stared up at the stranger. There was a sense of familiarity in the way he acted toward her. It didn't make sense. She didn't know him. She knew she had never met him before. She would have remembered if she had.
"Who are you again?"
"Nik Steele," he answered, his voice, despite its roughness, incredibly gentle.
"That doesn't tell me who you are." She stared at the keys in his hand. "Could I please have my keys?"
He shook his head slowly. White blond hair dusted against his shoulders as his dark clothing blended in with the night.
"I told you, I can drive you home or to the hospital. There's always the option of calling an ambulance or the police."
"No." Her response was quick.
The last thing she needed was the police. She doubted very seriously they'd help her anyway. They would probably give her assailant a medal.
"No police." She just wanted to go home.
"Come on." His hand gripped her arm, not roughly but in a grip of steel as he steered her to the passenger seat of the Jeep. "Get in. I'll take you home." He helped her into the passenger seat, hiding a smile as she watched him warily, 38
suspiciously.
There were options. She could feel her cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans. She could call one of her brothers.
No. No way. Any of the three would freak out, call her parents, and she would end up in the hospital whether she wanted to be there or not. And her father would definitely call the police. He'd curse and yell at them when they showed their lack of concern. Her mother would be shocked. She knew most of the police officers in town by first name. There was no sense in allowing more of them to disappoint Mikayla's gentle mother.
Jorrey Martin had cried last week when Mikayla had called to report a break-in attempt at the shop. No one had showed up. Her father had been forced to call and threaten them with a report to the state police.
Not that that would help.
The driver's side door opened and the huge form of the strange man was forced to release the catch on her seat, shoving it back the full length before he could fold his frame into the seat.
"Address?" He turned to her as he pushed the key into the ignition and turned it on.
Mikayla gave him her address quickly, then watched as he put the Jeep into gear and backed out of the parking space.
"Know where that's at, do you?" she asked.
She didn't live in Hagerstown. She'd bought her first house in the small town of nearby Williamsport.
"Actually, I do. I just rented the house next to you this afternoon. I was waiting until tomorrow to move in." His teeth flashed in the dim glow of the dash lights as he glanced over at her. "Hell of a coincidence, huh?"
She so did not believe in coincidence. The house beside hers was definitely for rent. The single-story brick and stucco, like her own, was set behind a screen of evergreen and decorative privacy pine.
"And how do you intend to get back to your car?"
