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I shifted uncomfortably and took a sip of my coffee. Or maybe I wastoocomfortable. All I knew was warmth was spreading directly to the area between my legs.
It surprised me. It wasn’t that I’d never been turned on before—I certainly had. But the fact that it had hit me so suddenly, just after eyeing his bulge in my peripheral vision, threw me off a little.
I might be a virgin, but I’d lusted over boys plenty of times in my life. I’d even dated. But my body had never automatically responded to the sight of a stranger’s bulge before. It all made me suddenly aware of how inexperienced I was, even for a twenty-one-year-old. And this guy, who had to be in at least his mid-thirties, would see me as nothing more than a college kid even though I’d never been to college.
“So, what about you?” the man asked.
He was still leaning against the wall, but now he looked at me, his head tilted slightly. I’d swear with the intensity in hiseyes, he knew what was going on with my body. Specifically, he knew looking at him was making me wet.
No, that wasn’t possible, was it?
I lowered my mug to my chest, maybe in a way to subconsciously cover it. But all it did was make his gaze drop to that area—to the sweatshirt my brother had gotten me at college. I wore it because it was warm and comfortable, but the name of the school was printed across the chest. I told myself he was trying to read the words, but deep down I was hoping he was wondering what I would look like naked.
“I don’t know,” I blurted, mostly to shove aside those thoughts. “I started taking some college classes online, but nothing really appealed to me. So for now, I work in a coffee shop.”
His eyebrows arched. Did he even know what a barista was? Yes, of course he’d know that. He’d mentioned he had a refrigerator because he missed some things about the old life, so he’d definitely been on the grid at some point.
“I didn’t know I was making coffee for a professional,” he said, adding a wince. “Sorry.”
I looked down at the brownish liquid sloshing around in the mug near my chest. “No, it’s fine.”
Actually, it was rancid, but I liked my coffee on the ridiculously sweet side. At this point, I was thinking of this like taking medicine. I needed caffeine, and it didn’t matter if it tasted good as long as the drug got into my system.
“Name?” the guy suddenly asked.
I looked up, my mind still on the coffee I was holding. When he spoke, he used so few words, sometimes it was tough to make out what he was asking. Was he being charged by the kilowatt for words?
“Phoebe.” I thrust my hand out. “Lexington, Kentucky.”
He didn’t budge at first, just blinked at me several times in rapid succession. Maybe he didn’t believe in shaking hands. Or maybe he’d forgotten the convention altogether.
Finally, he uncrossed his arms, straightening and pushing away from the table. He stepped toward me, reaching out his hand.
“Dallas,” he said. “Former Navy SEAL.”
I reached out to return his handshake, and his large, strong hand wrapped around mine. His touch sent shockwaves through my body, warming me, making me want so much more. It made it nearly impossible to concentrate on what he was saying.
Then he released my hand and coherent thought resumed. A Navy SEAL? That fell in the “big deal” range. It also meant he’d seen things, and those things had probably driven him here, to a small town far away from civilization. Here, he could stay away from people, not even having to rely on the grocery store.
It was all starting to make sense.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’m going to go dig out my truck, and we’ll pack your stuff and get you up the hill.”
His words froze my hand, which had been lifting the mug to my mouth. I stared at him over the top of it.
“Isn’t it dangerous?”
“I’ve fast roped from a helicopter,” he said. “I’ve spent weeks in the jungle and slept on sand in the middle of the desert. I’m pretty sure I can handle a little snow.”
The guy could handle it. I had no doubt about that. The question was, could I handle it?
Suddenly, the thought of sitting in the passenger seat as we tried to climb icy streets sent panic racing through me. My stomach turned. How did I tell him I was terrified at the thought of going out there again without making him think I didn’t trust him to do the job?
“I’ll go check it out,” he said. “We may be able to run the four-wheeler up there.”
Four-wheeler? I mouthed the words. But he’d already brushed around me and out the door, leaving the small cabin extremely empty.
Was it possible to miss someone you’d only met minutes ago?
