CHAPTER 5
Victoria
I spin around and come face-to-face with the violet-eyed cowboy. I feel myself blush. I haven’t blushed since the eighth grade. Because he’s even better looking up close. I’m not sure how that’s possible.
His voice is impossibly deep, velvet smooth with a hint of a country lilt.
I think of a million dirty responses about how he could be of service.
Somehow I maintain my composure and don’t mention all the ways I’d like him to service me—and how I imagine servicing him.
Instead, I think about the deal I’m here to do and about my hard-won career, what I’ve worked for since I got out of school.
I decide to focus on what I definitely need, not what I might desire.
“You scared me. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. If you’re with the car service, could you please load up my bags?”
He doesn’t smile. His chiseled jaw moves slightly, and he squints at me, as if he’s trying to see me but can’t quite get a clear picture. “I’m not with a service, but I do have a car, and I can take you where you want to go.”
This response takes me by surprise. It’s delivered matter-of-factly but also imbued with a sincere politeness. I take a step back.
Here comes the discombobulation again.
“Uh.” I need to pull myself together. “I’m not in the habit of getting in a car with strangers.
” I blink at him, doing my best to ignore the fact that I’m thinking how much I’d love to get in the car with him.
I remind myself that there are psychopaths everywhere, not just in the big city, and a trip into the remote wilderness could be the last ride I ever take.
I hear the news anchor in my head: Coming up after the break, the violet-eyed cowboy looked like a dreamboat, but the visitor found herself roped and tied and living in a nightmare…
“Nobody’s a stranger around here.”
That voice is as reassuring as it is deep. For a second, I imagine his singing voice might fall somewhere between Usher and Bing Crosby, smooth enough to charm a girl right out of her panties.
“Everyone knows everyone here, and I bet we’ll know each other too by the time I get you to your destination.”
I scan his face, looking for a sign that he’s being sarcastic or even flirting. But his expression is blank—pleasant enough but revealing nothing. I can’t decide what this man’s deal is. Is he a sociopath? Or just a simple, hard-working man?
Either way, he’s wrong. There are strangers here. Because to me, he’s very strange.
I’ve never met a man quite like him.
He takes a step towards me. His gaze latches on to mine, fixed and unflinching. I gasp. His eyes are so intense I have to look away.