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Her mother was a sore subject.
Miranda Blake gave birth to Jewel when she was only fifteen, barely a child herself. Jewel had never known her father. She doubted Miranda knew much about him either.
Her childhood had been riddled with darkness and hunger. Her mother hadn’t protected her, hadn’t even cared. If she never saw that woman again, she’d be fine.
Jewel tugged at the hem of her over-sized sweatshirt and meandered to the counter. The clerk raked his gaze over her, beady eyes lingering on her sweatshirt.
“You alright, baby?” he asked, ringing up her total. “Isn’t it hot in that thing?”
Jewel shook her head and glanced at the windows to avoid looking at him. Waning sunlight slithered through the blinds and covered the floor with shadows. A man in a hoodie stood outside the door.
“That’ll be ten dollars,” the guy said. She handed over the money. He counted it slowly, his eyes unwavering and his smile growing by the minute.
Why wouldn’t he stop staring at her?
“You don’t talk much, do you?” He winked. “I like women like that.”
Was he hitting on her?
No, no, no.
Did men still find her attractive? She’d done everything she could think of to avoid their attention. Baggy clothes. Turtlenecks. Showing not an inch of skin. No makeup. Hair always in a bun.
What am I doing wrong?
She panicked and launched out of the store, thrusting the door open. The sunlight blinded her. Jewel stumbled to the sidewalk and bent over, struggling to catch her breath.
Footsteps pattered close.
A hand shoved her in the back.
Jewel took a dive, spilling to the hard concrete and landing hard on her side. Her purse strap latched against her armpit as someone tugged on her bag.
“Hand over the purse, lady,” a man growled.
Her eyes widened as she stared up into the face of the guy with the hoodie. Jewel trembled and hurried to free herself of the bag. There was nothing of worth in there anyway. She’d hate to get hurt over a few dollar coins and a buss pass.
“Hey!” a deep voice yelled. “What’s going on here?”
The purse strap went taunt as the mugger froze.
Another man stepped toward them. She couldn’t see his face, but he wore a white shirt pulled tight across broad shoulders and blue jeans. He was so tall he blocked the sunlight.
A smoky voice raked her ears. “Miss, are you alright?”
Jewel glanced up and saw the mugger fleeing, black hoodie flapping against his back. She inhaled stiffly and looked into the face of her rescuer.
The sight of him made her lose her breath again.
His irises were a sharp hazel. Thick, black brows slanted over narrowed eyes fringed by the longest lashes she’d ever seen. High cheekbones. A chiseled jaw. Short, brown hair brushed away from his forehead.
He was gorgeous.
But a dazzling face no longer blew Jewel away. She knew, more than anyone, that beauty could disguise a monster.
“Miss?”
She stiffened as his eyes slid over her with concern. Pushing herself up to her feet, she ignored the hand he extended and brushed herself off.
