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Saturday was the only day of the week he delivered the newspapers himself. Mainly, Loren knew, because he used the time to collect on his gambling tab from a man who lived across town.

A good thing, too, she thought once she returned to her room and fished her battered shoes from the corner. They were beyond salvageable. Mud and rainwater had dissolved the remaining duct tape, and both soles held on by only a thread.

Who knew how she’d get to school on Monday. Or how on earth she was going to find the money for new shoes.

Don’t slip up this time,she told herself.Ask again.Get him in a good mood.

With that goal in mind, she busied herself with the many chores her father demanded she complete. As always, the living room was a landmine of empty beer cans and scattered TV dinners. She cleared those first, only to discover a bigger mess waiting for her in the kitchen.

She tracked mud in last night. Either her father had been too drunk to notice, or he just didn’t care. Regardless, she’d been spared at least one beating for the day.

It took an hour of scrubbing to get the floor remotely clean, and then another run with the mop to erase all traces of muck. Once the house was decent enough, she curled up on the couch and savored what little peace remained until her father returned.

While Saturdays weren’t exactly “lazy” anymore, they were still one of the rare moments she had the house to herself. Usually, she’d spend it at the old Baker farm.

Bunny might get to stretch her legs today, she thought while glancing out the window to see a faintly cloudless sky. The old nag loved being in the pasture.

Xavier, too, she assumed with a smile. The stallion needed plenty of exercise to stay happy. She was so lost in the thought that she didn’t hear the first knock on the door.

But the second rap sent her scrambling from the couch. Her initial fear was her father had locked himself out. He’d blame her if she kept him waiting too long.

Heart pounding, she raced to the door, but—as if held back by some force she couldn’t comprehend—her hand froze over the knob.Pine.Her nostrils flared, catching the strange scent in the air.

A scent that didn’t belong here. At that exact moment, a stern voice seeped through the wooden barrier, impossible to resist.

“Loren. Please open the door.”

She jumped back, slamming her hip on the couch. Amid her smothered gasp, McGoven’s voice rang out clearly.

“I just want to talk. You can let me in.”

No,a part of her warned, even as her body disobeyed. Robotic steps carried her forward and, despite her panic, her fingers deftly undid the lock. The door opened from the outside, revealing the man dominating the doorway.

His voice sounded calm, but he looked angry. His eyes were narrowed, glowing in the pale daylight.

Loren swallowed hard as a potential explanation for his visit came to mind. Had Naomi decided to catch her unguarded on the weekend? She braced herself for the moment he’d slap her in handcuffs. Surprisingly, all he seemed inclined to do was watch her.

Silently.

Being ogled by strangers was par for the course as the new girl in town, but his scrutiny felt different. Probing. Penetrating. His gaze seemed to pierce her clothing, weighing every inch of her beneath. How did she measure up?

As a disappointment, apparently. The worn lines around his mouth deepened by the second, exaggerating his frown.

Fortunately for her, what he thought didn’t matter. His presence alone could get her punished.

“You can’t be here,” she blurted, scanning the sidewalk behind him as if her father might appear at any moment. “Please. I—”

“May I come inside?”

The request threw her off. It wasn’treallya request, though. His low tone proclaimed something else that spurred her limbs into motion.Let me in. Now.

“I can’t,” Loren insisted. As the words left her mouth, she jerked aside to let him pass anyway.

“Thank you,” he said, and he almost sounded genuine.

She didn’t want him here—and he knew it. He seemed as out of place in their cramped living room as a wolf in the middle of a sheep’s pen. He was too close—even though a good ten feet of space separated them, and she had her back pressed against the wall.

“M-my father isn’t home,” she said in a small voice. “You shouldn’t talk to me without—”

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