What if they’re some kind of serial killer duo, where the driver leaves unsuspecting women on this man’s deck like gift-wrapped treats? What if this is all some nefarious plan and that hatchet isn’t for logs after all? What if—
“I’ll drive you.” The man ducks through the doorway, finally stepping out into the mountain air, and my stomach swoops. Beneath the beard and the scowl and the general cloud of irritation, this man is… he’s…
I think the word isrugged.
“Um.” I clear my throat, suddenly dazed. “Thank you.”
He’s square-jawed and handsome. Maybe a decade older than me, but his dark hair is thick and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Like he’s been squinting into the sun his whole life, and sunglasses never even crossed his manly mind.
The wood creaks beneath his bulk as he tugs the door closed and comes to pick up my cases. He lifts them as easily as if they were stuffed with feather pillows, which, believe me, they are not. My sewing machine alone weighs more than I do.
Could he lift me with one hand, too?
Not helpful, Luna. Jeez.
“My truck’s back down near the road. You gonna be okay in those shoes?”
I peer down at my gray suede ankle boots, already ruined by the slog up the mountainside. Stray pine needles have stuck to the soaked fabric, and there’s a soggy dark tideline around the tops of my feet. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Alright, stay close. The animals get bolder around dusk.”
They do?
What kinds of animals? Like cute, fluffy bunnies, right?
A mournful howl drifts through the trees, and I shiver. Sounds like it came from far away—but not far enough. Nowhere near far enough, damn it.
The man’s eyes glitter with amusement as he starts the walk back down the mountainside. “Come on, city girl. Better stay close. You’re the perfect snack size for a grizzly.”
* * *
“I knew there’d be bears and wolves and stuff.”
“Right.”
“I’m just saying. I’m not completely clueless.”
“‘Course not.” The man’s mouth is a flat line, his expression as severe as ever, but somehow Iknowhe’s laughing at me as he loads his truck. It’s a dark blue beater, kept tucked away against a rock face, and I linger extra close as that howl echoes around my brain. It’s still light out, the golden sunshine bleeding through the trees, but the shadows are getting longer.
“Could you, um.” I point at my sewing machine case where it lies on its side in the center of the truck bed. “Could you tie that down or something, please? It’s pretty valuable.”
It’s my whole livelihood, but whatever. No big deal.
The amusement fades, and the man sighs as he digs out two ratchet straps from his truck cab and sets about winching my luggage down tight. I nibble on my lip, watching him work, and feel about three inches tall. Even all the way out here, starting my new life, I’m still a pain in the ass.
“Better, princess?”
I nod, throat tight, and we load into the truck cab in silence.
“Luna,” I say after a while once we’re bouncing along the rocky track. Trees and rocks whip past outside the windows, and squirrels scurry along branches in flashes of fur. “My name is Luna Lindgren.”
I don’t want this man to call me princess. The scathing way he says it, like he knows everything about me already and finds me lacking… it makes me want to cry.
“Griff.”
It takes me a second to realize what he’s saying. “Oh. Hey, Griff.”
We swing around a bend in the road, engine rumbling and truck rocking. Surreptitiously, I check my seat belt is secure.