Chapter 2
CLAY
I tuck the pie box under my arm, carrying it back toward my truck. I only came to town for a new drill, but couldn’t resist grabbing a cherry pie from Buttercup Bakery before I left. Don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but damn, this stuff tastes like heaven.
The sky is darkening fast, turning everything to shadow as I reach the outskirts of Cherry Hollow.
I always wait for dusk if I have to come down here, so it’s too dark for people to see my leg.
I’m not ashamed of being an amputee—just hate feeling watched.
Twenty years in the military have left me on the defensive, and my adrenaline spikes when strangers look at me.
And they always fucking look.
Hell, guess it’s just human nature. They see a giant brute of a man with a piece of metal where his calf should be and can’t help glancing. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it. That’s why I stick to the woods as much as possible, keeping away from people and all the mental landmines they trigger.
The streets are mercifully quiet as I continue up the sidewalk toward Stirling’s Lumber other guys had loving families and still fucked their way around every foreign brothel they could find.
It’s all bullshit.
Love. Marriage. They’re lies people tell themselves so they don’t have to feel alone.
I don’t buy it. Tying myself to another person forever?
Fuck no. I’ve seen how that story ends too many times, and I hope Thorne comes to his senses before it’s too late.
Don’t want to see my buddy become another divorce statistic.
The sidewalk turns icy, pulling me from my thoughts.
There’s a sheet of it blocking the path ahead, black and shiny in the glow of a nearby streetlight.
It’s impossible to judge how slippery the ground is with a prosthetic leg.
I’m not wearing ice cleats on my boots, so there’s no grip—no way to feel the ice beneath my foot and adjust my gait.
I step onto the road to avoid the ice, sticking close to the sidewalk. I’m just a few feet from the hardware store, about to enter the parking lot. Suddenly, I hear the screech of a swerving vehicle behind me. Headlights glare, and I whip around just in time to see the car.
It slams into me.
I tumble backward, twisting as I fall. My prosthetic catches awkwardly on the icy curb and clicks free, skittering across the road. I land hard on my side. My shoulder slams against the asphalt.
Fuck.
I can taste gravel in my mouth. My body aches like a motherfucker, but nothing feels broken, and I ease myself into a sitting position with a groan. The car’s headlights blind me. My vision goes white, and I shield my eyes, listening as the driver’s side door opens.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” a young woman calls out. I hear her hurrying toward me before she lets out a strangled gasp. “Oh God…your leg!” she cries hysterically. “I cut your leg off!”
A sadistic part of me wants to clutch the stump below my knee and start screaming, “My leg! My leg!” But the girl already sounds like she’s about to faint.
“You didn’t cut it off,” I grunt. “A doctor did. Years ago.”
“Wh-what?”
“I have a prosthetic.” I point vaguely toward the road. “Fell over there somewhere. Can’t see a damn thing with these lights on me.”
I close my eyes against the beams, hearing the woman’s feet crunch against the icy road as she grabs my prosthetic. I feel her place it carefully on the ground beside me.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice still trembling. “One second, I’ll cut the lights.”
She heads back to her car while I run my hands over the prosthetic. I’m always on edge when I’m not wearing it. Makes me feel vulnerable. Undefended. Thankfully, it doesn’t feel broken, and I slide it back into place, the pin locking with a quiet click.
The headlights finally turn off, but my vision is still swimming as I plant my hands against the road and push myself onto my feet. I glance around the quiet street, relieved to see there’s nobody around. The last thing I need is people rushing over to help.
“Hey, don’t get up!” I hear the woman say as her car door slams shut. “You need an ambulance!”
I ignore her. Pain gnaws at my shoulder, and my hands are grazed from the road. But I’ll live. I’ve survived worse than a few cuts and bruises.
“The hell’d you swerve into me for?” I ask, anger flaring inside me now that I’m over the shock of being hit.
“I’m so sorry.” I see the girl moving toward me, just a shadow in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to…”
The streetlight catches her face as she approaches.
I almost fall over again.
I forget how to breathe, heart thumping as I stare at the angel in front of me. Her chocolate-brown hair spills past her shoulders, framing a soft, heart-shaped face—too pretty to be real. She blinks up at me, wide doe eyes turning to caramel in the light, and something snaps in my chest.
Holy shit.
Her body is all curves—thick and plump—filling her jeans so deliciously that I feel my cock stir.
I definitely shouldn’t be noticing. She’s too young.
Early twenties. At forty-five, I’m old enough to know better, but my heart is twanging like a plucked string as I watch the girl’s pouty red lips fall open.
She looks intimidated.
Hell, I can’t blame her. I’m a lumbering giant of a man, inked and bearded, with a hunk of metal where my left leg should be. I’m the kind of guy people cross the street to avoid.
“Let me drive you to the hospital.”
The girl’s words catch me off guard. Now she can see I’m okay, I was expecting her to drive away as fast as possible. Instead, she steps toward me, her pretty brown eyes soft with concern.
“We have to get you checked out.”
“I’m fine,” I say hoarsely.
“Please let me take you.” Her teeth gnaw anxiously on her bottom lip. “Even if you feel okay, there could be something wrong internally.”
Every instinct is screeching at me to get away right now. This beautiful stranger is doing things to me, making my blood thrum hot and fast in my veins. I should go home and forget this ever happened—forget I ever set eyes on this curvy little angel.
But I know she’s right about getting checked out.
Back when I was still a recruit, I was stationed with a guy called Alex. He was knocked down by an army truck on his way back to the barracks. Shrugged it off and walked away, then dropped dead a few hours later from a brain hemorrhage.
“I can drive myself,” I grunt. “My truck’s just over there.”
The girl is still biting her lip within an inch of its life, looking up at me with wide, pleading eyes.
“It might not be safe for you to drive right now,” she says. “Please, it would mean so much if you’d let me get you to the hospital. I need to know you’re okay.”
Fuck, she’s so damn sweet.
My protests die in my throat as I look at her.
“Fine.”
The girl’s shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you.”
I follow her back to her car, spying a dent on the hood where it hit me. The box of pie I was carrying is crushed beneath one of her tires, leaking red goo onto the road. The girl winces when she sees it.
“Sorry about that. I owe you a cherry pie.”
I catch her eye over the roof of the car, and she blushes, ducking into the driver’s seat. But as I reach for the passenger-side door handle, my fingers freeze against the cold metal.
This is a bad idea.
There’s still time to turn around and leave this girl behind. Hell, I can literally see my damn truck from here, parked in front of the hardware store. I could make a beeline for it right now—drive away and never look back.
But then I meet her gaze through the window.
With an uncertain smile, she reaches across the seat to open the door for me, trusting me to get in. Trusting me to keep my word and let her drive me to the hospital. And just like that, my resolve crumbles.
I get in the car.