“Are you dating him?”
Shannon almost laughed. Dating Travis Settler? Dear Lord, how much simpler that sounded than the truth! “No, Mom,
he’s just a fr—an acquaintance who offered to drive me over.”
“A Good Samaritan,” Oliver said and Shannon felt a little sensation of disquiet. Hadn’t she mentally referred to Travis as a Good Samaritan after she’d been attacked? Now, knowing him a little better, she realized he was anything but. He’d come to Santa Lucia with a single-minded purpose. He’d hidden in the shadows of her house spying on her. He’d thought she’d stolen his child, for God’s sake. He’d saved her only because he’d been on the property, lurking, trying to ferret out the truth. She’d even thought he might have been the man who’d attacked her, but she’d changed her opinion of him in the ensuing days. Nearly trusted him.
Nearly.
But not quite.
“Sure,” she said, eager to end the conversation. “A Good Samaritan. That’s what he is.”
And then she left. Before her mother could ask any more questions and before she said or did anything she might regret.
She let the screen door slap behind her and found Travis outside, leaning against his fender and staring at the house. The lights of the town splashed into the heavens and only a few stars peeked through the lingering cloud of smoke that hovered above the ground and tainted the air.
“You had company,” he said.
“My brother Oliver.”
“The one who wants to be a priest. Yeah, I know.”
“What is it you don’t know about my family?” she asked as he opened the door of the truck. He looked about to help her climb into the interior but she shot him a glance that said all too clearly: back off. The last thing she wanted was to rely on him, but because of the pain in her shoulder, she had more than a little trouble getting inside and once in her seat waited for the agony to subside. “Are there any secrets we Flannerys have managed to keep from you?”
“More than your share,” he admitted. He smiled faintly, in a way that made him seem particularly attractive. Shannon looked away, disturbed by her own thoughts as Travis slammed the passenger door closed.
She surreptitiously watched him walk in front of the truck: long strides, straight back, slim hips…the kind of trouble she didn’t want or need.
She mentally shook herself. What was wrong with her? Why was she so aware of him?
Strapping on her seat belt, she nearly gasped. The belt was tight. Binding. And when it gripped, it pushed painfully against her ribs. All of her pain medication had worn off hours before and she was feeling ragged around the edges, her ribs, shoulder and the back of her head hurting her enough to cause a dull ache to run through every inch of her body. She was exhausted, worried and grief-stricken.
What else could go wrong?
Don’t even go there!
He climbed inside the cab, shut the door behind him. The dome light clicked off and she was suddenly, again, in a small confined space with him, so close that she could smell his scent, touch his jean-clad leg if she let her hand drop.
His profile was visible in the weak light thrown off from the dash and the bit of illumination seeping through the windshield. Travis Settler was strong, even handsome, with a hard jaw, straight nose and deep-set eyes that seemed to miss little. His mouth was razor-thin, a scratch cut into the sharp angles of his chin. A bit of beard shadowed his chin. His hair was mussed and unkempt and all around him was a sense that he was pure, don’t-give-me-any-bullshit male—tough, coiled, ready for action.
He rammed his truck into gear and pulled away from the street. She noticed the strap of his watch, nothing fancy, just a functional, no-frills timepiece on a sexy, strong wrist—a wrist that was currently poised over one taut, jean-clad thigh. She could imagine the sinewy muscles beneath the jeans. And the hard flatness of his stomach. And the strength in his hands and fingers.
She caught herself.
What the hell was she thinking?
She must have been more tired than she realized.
He cast her a quick look and in that heartbeat she knew he’d seen her checking him out. Wanting to melt into the cushions of the seat, instead Shannon straightened and arched a “so-what” eyebrow in his direction, hoping he didn’t notice the wash of heat flooding her face. But she had to roll down her window to get some air.
So he was overtly male.
So he was sexy.
So it had been a long time since she’d felt a spark of interest in any man.
So what?