Chapter Two
Grace
The first thing I notice when I slide into the passenger seat of Brennan’s truck is the warmth.
Outside, the night air is cool, but inside the cab, it’s cozy, almost like a small apartment on wheels.
The second thing I notice is the smell. A clean, masculine scent of coffee, cedar, and something like fresh laundry detergent.
It’s the kind of smell that makes you feel safe, like you’re wrapped in a warm blanket.
I’m still shaking a little, but it’s not from the cold.
It’s from the adrenaline, from the close call with those men, and from.
.. him. Brennan. He climbs in after me, his large frame somehow fitting into the driver’s seat, and the truck seems to shrink around us.
He’s so big. So intimidating, with his broad shoulders, tattooed arms, and that intense way he looks at me.
But I don’t feel intimidated. I feel... protected.
Which is crazy. I’ve known this man for all of ten minutes, and I should be terrified, but instead, I feel safer than I have in my entire life.
“Alright,” he says, and his voice is low and gruff, sending an unexpected heat rushing between my legs. “Let’s get you settled in the back.”
He opens a small door between the seats and gestures for me to go through. I hesitate for a moment. “Really, I don’t want to be an inconvenience. I can just sleep in the passenger seat.”
He fixes me with a look that makes my stomach flutter. “You’re not an inconvenience. And you’ll be more comfortable back there.”
I don’t argue. I just nod and crawl through the opening into the sleeper cab. And my breath catches in my throat.
It’s... beautiful. Not in a fancy way, but in a comfortable, lived-in way.
There’s a narrow bed made up with clean gray blankets and pillows that look plump and inviting.
A small reading light is clipped to the wall above the bed, casting a soft, warm glow over everything.
There’s a little shelf with a few books, and on the opposite wall, there’s a small kitchen area with a mini-fridge, a microwave, and a tiny sink.
Everything is neat and organized, clean and orderly.
This is clearly his space, and it feels like being invited into someone’s inner sanctum.
Brennan follows me in, and he fills it completely. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and I’m so acutely aware of him I can barely breathe.
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
“Um... a granola bar. A few hours ago.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling flustered. “But I’m fine. Really.”
He grumbles something under his breath, a low, disapproving sound that makes my stomach flutter. “You’re not fine. You need to eat, Grace.” He turns to the mini-fridge and pulls out a carton of soup. “Sit,” he commands, gesturing to the bed.
I sink down onto the edge of the mattress, my hands twisting in my lap.
I watch him move around the small space, and I’m mesmerized.
He’s so big and powerful, yet his movements are sure and precise.
He doesn’t bump into anything or knock anything over.
He opens a cabinet and takes out a small pot, then pours the soup inside and places it on what looks like a hot plate built into the counter.
While the soup heats, he opens a different cabinet and pulls out a box of crackers, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water. He places them on the small bed beside me. “Here.”
“Oh, you don’t have to...” I start to say, but he cuts me off with a look.
The heat that had started between my thighs seems to be spreading now, consuming my entire body.
I’ve never felt anything like this before.
My thoughts are racing, and they’re not.
.. appropriate. I’m thinking about what it would feel like to have those rough hands on my bare skin, to have that deep, gruff voice whispering my name, to have him press me down onto this very bed and. ..
I flush, heat creeping up my neck and face. I force the thoughts away, horrified with myself. I don’t even know this man, and I’m having... thoughts. Thoughts that I’ve never had about anyone. Thoughts that would have me labeled as a sinner if anyone ever found out.
“So what were you doing out so late?” Brennan asks, pulling me from my scandalous thoughts.
“I was visiting someone,” I say, my voice soft.
“An elderly woman from my dad’s church. Mrs. Henderson.
She just got out of the hospital, and her kids live out of state.
I was just... keeping her company. And helping with some things around the house.
” I shrug, feeling a little embarrassed. “I guess I lost track of time.”
He watches me, his expression unreadable. “That was kind of you.”
“I just... I hate the thought of her being all alone,” I say. “Especially when she’s not feeling well.”
“You’re a good person, Grace,” he says, and the simple statement makes my chest feel tight.
“What about you?” I ask, changing the subject. “Are you on a long haul?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Always. I’m usually on the road for weeks at a time.”
“Doesn’t that get... lonely?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I think he’s not going to answer. Then he says, “I like the quiet. I spent twelve years in the Marines. After that, the quiet is... nice.”
The soup starts to bubble on the hot plate, and he turns to stir it. “I like being alone,” he continues, his back to me. “Mostly.”
The way he says “mostly” makes my heart beat a little faster. I don’t ask him what he means. I don’t think I need to.
He pours the soup into a bowl and hands it to me along with a spoon. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my fingers brushing against his. There’s another jolt of electricity, another wave of heat.
I take a sip of the soup. It’s just chicken noodle, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. The warmth spreads through me, chasing away the last of the chill and the fear. I eat quickly, suddenly realizing how hungry I am.
Brennan watches me, his gaze intense. “Don’t inhale it,” he says, a hint of amusement in his gruff voice. “There’s more if you want it.”
I slow down, embarrassed. “Sorry. I was hungrier than I thought.”
“You need to take better care of yourself, Grace,” he says, and the scolding tone should feel condescending, but it doesn’t. It feels... caring. Like he’s genuinely concerned about me. And that feeling, that concern from this big, strong stranger, is doing things to me. Things I don’t understand.
As I eat, an uncomfortable pressure starts to build in my chest. At first, I try to ignore it, but it gets stronger, a dull ache that reminds me of how long it’s been. Too long. I mentally calculate. I pumped this morning before I left. That was... fourteen hours ago. I never go this long. Never.
But I left my pump at home. I didn’t bring it because this was supposed to be a quick trip. A few hours, tops. I never imagined I’d be stranded overnight.
Sometimes I wish I’d never started taking those herbal supplements six months ago. They were supposed to help with the painful periods I was experiencing, and to be fair, they have helped a lot with that. But it’s left me with this very inconvenient side effect instead.
I just need to get through one night, that’s all. I’ll be home tomorrow, and I can deal with it then. I push the thought away and focus on the soup, on the warmth of the small space, on the man watching me with those intense, dark eyes.
“You done?” he asks, taking the empty bowl from me.
I nod, my stomach full for the first time all day. “Thank you. That was really good.”
“It was soup, Grace,” he says, but there’s a smile in his voice. “You need to lie down. You look exhausted.”
I want to protest, but he’s right. I am exhausted, and the thought of curling up in sheets that smell like him is too tempting to resist.
“Okay,” I agree softly.
He nods and starts to straighten up the small space, putting the soup bowl back in the sink and wiping down the counter.
He’s so efficient, so sure of himself, and it’s mesmerizing to watch.
I can’t tear my eyes away from him, from the way his muscles move under the thin fabric of his shirt, from the way the tattoos on his arms shift and stretch.
He turns and catches me staring, and I blush, quickly looking away.
“Goodnight, Grace,” he says, his voice soft.
“Goodnight, Brennan.”
He climbs back through the opening into the driver’s seat, and I can hear him settling in.
I kick off my shoes, then slide under the blankets, the soft material wrapping around me.
The sheets are cool against my skin, but the mattress is warm, and the pillow smells like him. I bury my face in it and inhale deeply.
God, it smells so good. And the scent brings both comfort and another rush of that strange, intense heat between my legs.
I squeeze my thighs together, trying to make the sensation go away, but it only gets worse.
My body is humming with a desire that is both foreign and terrifying.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I’ve never even had a real kiss before, even though I’m twenty-one.
A pastor’s daughter in a small southern town.
.. well, there’s not much opportunity for that kind of thing.
And even if there was, I never felt the pull. Not like this.
Never like this.
And I haven’t got a clue what I’m supposed to do with all these new feelings I’m experiencing.