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"She's lucky she's fucking cute," I mutter, shaking my head ruefully. "Little shit."

"If you don't unclench soon, you'll be shitting diamonds," Tate says. "It was a fender bender. Why are your panties in a bunch about it?"

"Is all your bullshit about the water around here true?" I ask, staring out into his backyard. He's been telling me stories about the water in Silver Spoon Falls for long enough. I always chalked it up to a local legend, but after today, I'm not so sure because I can't seem to stop thinking about my little kitten. I've never reacted to a woman the way I reacted to her.

Hell, I don't have time for women. I haven't been on a date in longer than I care to admit. The one and only girlfriend I had dumped me when we were eleven. Apparently, playing hacky sack at recess meant I didn't have my priorities right.

When I asked my mom what that meant, she said women want to feel like they're the most important thing in a man's life. I took that to heart. Work and my family have always been my priorities, not dating, so I just haven't done it. Always figured I'd get around to it when I could commit to making a woman number one.

No one ever came along who made me want to commit, so I didn't bother. Until today. I'm mad as hell that she ran off. Not because she didn't give me her information to fix the rental—I don't give a damn about that. I'm pissed because I don't know her real name or where to find her. She doesn't want me to know who she is. She didn't want Dillon to see her. Is she in some sort of trouble? On the run? Did she knock over a bank?

A thousand different scenarios have run through my mind, and none of them feel right. I'd stake my life on the fact that she isn't a criminal. But she's hiding from something. I don't like it.

"Holy shit," Tate says, jumping to his feet. Beer sloshes out of his bottle, spilling across his hand. He shakes it off, pointing at me in accusation. "That's why you're a moody asshole! You met someone today."

"Wow," Samara whispers.

"Who is she?"

"Fuck if I know." I huff out a breath, glaring at my brother. "You know a Charlotte Lemming?"

"No."

"That's the name she gave me." I lean forward in my chair, steepling my hands together. "Pretty sure she lied about it." My lips twitch. "I'm pretty sure she lied about not having a license or insurance too."

"She's the one who backed into you?"

"Mmhmm."

"What does she look like?" Samara asks, her voice soft and curious.

"About your height, straight, dark hair, crazy blue eyes, freckles, an incredible…" I clear my throat. "Never mind. She's curvy."

Samara looks at Tate, who shrugs. "Doesn't sound familiar."

"To me, either. She could be new in town."

"She knew you." I glance at Tate.

His brows furrow, and then he smirks. "Everyone knows me. I'm fucking awesome."

Samara smacks him with a decorative pillow, saving me the trouble. Why women need decorative pillows outside, I don't know, but Samara is just like my mom and Sariah. She has them everywhere. "Ignore him," she says to me, rolling her hazel eyes. "If everyone knows him, it's because his giant head is like a neon light announcing his presence to the world."

I crack up, grinning like an idiot at my chagrined brother. I knew I liked his wife.

"What the fuck, angel? You're supposed to be on my side." Tate narrows his eyes on his wife.

"What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around thinking you were God's gift to the world, Tate?" She eyes him like he's crazy. "Someone has to keep you humble. It says that's my job in the marriage license."

"Oh, really?" His lips twitch, his expression softening. "I must have missed that part."

"I guess you did. It's right under the part about you not asking me how much money I spend when I go to the bookstore," she says.

Tate grins like a dope. It's great to see. Like me, he focused on his career for so damn long that I didn't think he'd ever make room in his life for anyone or anything else. But Samara has been good for him. Really damn good. He's happier than I've ever seen him. He's a hell of a husband to her and a helluva daddy to Scout and Baby G.

"I'll ask around if you want. See if she sounds familiar to anyone," Tate suggests.

"Nah. I don't want to spook her into running before I find her stubborn little ass." I pick up my beer, turning it around in my hands as I try to come up with a plan. "I think I'll pay the sheriff a visit and see what he knows. She seemed awfully hesitant about letting him get a look at her. I'm guessing that's because he could identify her."

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