The pickup door gave a low metal groan.
I looked up.
Dex stepped down into the dust.
He was bigger outside the truck.
That was my first clear thought, and I resented every cell in my body for having it. He wore dark jeans, worn boots, and a black T-shirt stretched over shoulders that had no business being attached to the man ruining my afternoon. A work jacket hung open despite the heat. He had dark hair, dark stubble, a strong jaw, and tattooed forearms. A leather cord at his throat held an old crucifix that rested against his shirt when he moved, the kind with weight and wear and a history that wasn’t any of my business.
He didn’t swagger.
That would’ve been easier. Swagger gave a woman something to laugh at.
Dex walked toward my car like the road, the heat, the dust, and my dead tire were only parts of a problem he’d already solved.
He stopped beside the driver’s door, far enough back that I couldn’t swing it into his knees. His gaze moved over my hands, the wheel, the console, the cracked windshield, then back to my face.
“Turn off the engine and put both hands where I can see them, Crystal.”
My fingers tightened around the wheel.
He said her name like it belonged to me.
The engine coughed again. I turned the key because the car was done pretending to be useful, not because he’d told me to. Then I lifted my hands.
“Do I get a survey after this?” I asked. “I have feedback about the customer experience.”
Dex’s expression didn’t change, but something moved in his eyes. Not amusement. More like he’d noticed the shape of the knife before deciding how to take it away.
“North Fork Bail Bonds,” he said. “You know why I’m here.”
“Because you were lonely and wanted to meet women in scenic locations?”
“Because you skipped bond and missed court.”
“I’ve missed a lot of things. Hair appointments. Oil changes. A dentist appointment in Boise that I still feel morally complicated about.”
His gaze dipped to the flowers curling around my left lower leg above the boot, then lifted again. The linework was dusty and half-hidden by sweat, but the ink was there. Vines, petals, tiny leaves wrapped my ankle and climbed toward my calf, a match on paper and a problem in real life.
“Step out of the car,” he said.
“Is this the part where I’m supposed to ask if you’re a cop?”
“You can ask.”
“Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“At least one thing about today is going my way.”
“I’m authorized by North Fork to recover you on the forfeited bond.”
“That sounds very official for a man blocking a woman in the woods.”
“You chose the woods.”
“I chose a road. The road betrayed me.”
