LITMIR.BIZ

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you himself. She’ll know that’s a lie...

      Faith gripped the wheel harder as she drove to the Lightning Creek Ranch. After the assault, she’d developed the habit of overthinking and manufacturing anxiety. Over the past few months, she’d gotten a handle on the problem, but maybe she was reverting to old coping mechanisms.

      No. She wasn’t. Her anxiety was the result of a real-life situation. She was in an awkward spot and she wasn’t happy about it—to the point that instead of slowing to turn into the drive at the Lightning Creek, she continued on up the Trestle Road toward Drew’s house.

      What is wrong with you?

      Faith set her jaw, gripped the wheel, dodged potholes and ruts.

      A lot of things.

      But she had to do this. She went over the scenario. When she got there, he’d come out of his house.

      What if he doesn’t?

      He would if there was a vehicle with the engine running parked next to his cabin. If not...she’d honk.

      What if he’s passed out due to pain meds?

      Faith skipped over that part. He’d come out. She’d leave the truck running, roll down the window and tell him to call his sister and explain what happened, because he was affecting her life and her livelihood and she needed this job.

      “Clear things up with your sister! Now!”

      Faith sucked in a breath. Yes. That’s how it would go. Then he would call Debra and she’d never have to see him again, except for when he drove past the Lighting Creek Ranch.

      She slowed as she rounded the corner where Drew had driven off the edge. The vehicle was still down there. Her heart sank. Drew was probably passed out in his cabin and she was about to rouse him.

      There was no place to turn around, so she had no choice but to continue up the road. The first open spot was in the clearing where the cabin sat. In for a dime, in for a dollar, as her dad liked to say.

      The cabin door was propped open when she pulled into the clearing, but there was no tall, dark-haired guy in sight. Faith pulled up next to the truck parked beside the shop building and left the engine running as planned.

      Nothing.

      She gave the horn a quick honk, her nerves jerking at the sound. What she wouldn’t give to have Sully in the truck with her. She should have stopped to pick him up...but if she’d stopped, she might have lost her nerve.

      No sign of life.

      If her shoulders weren’t so tight, they would have sagged in defeat. Did she sit and pound the horn, or suck it up and knock on the cabin’s open door?

      She’d check the shop. Faith got out of the vehicle and slowly approached the building, as if afraid that something—or someone—would burst out of the door before she got there.

      Suck. It. Up.

      She knocked on the metal door, then after waiting a few seconds, pushed it open to find a thoroughly organized work area. Everything was in its place, the floor swept, the benches clear. If Drew worked on projects here, he didn’t currently have one in progress, although there was a big stack of lumber along one wall and a table saw set up close by. Faith closed the door again and turned toward the house, then stopped.

      She couldn’t do it. The anger that had propelled her up the mountain had dissipated. No...it had been beat into submission by the knee-jerk fears that were forcing their way into her brain. She was alone, on a mountain, with a stranger. The stranger was related to her boss. She’d saved him from a mud puddle, but he was a stranger all the same and she needed to get the hell out of there.

      “Can I help you?”

      Faith nearly jumped out of her skin as the low voice sounded from behind her. She whirled to find Drew standing on the porch outside his open front door, buttoning a shirt over his broad chest.

      Again she felt very close to hating him for making her feel this way. Her reactions were not his fault, but it was demoralizing to discover she hadn’t healed as much as she’d thought she had.

      “Yeah, you can.” The words sounded choked as she fought to control the fight-or-flight instinct. She pressed a hand to her chest, her voice sounding slightly more normal as she said, “Tell your sister about the accident. You’ve put me in a hard situation by not telling her.”

      She moved toward her running vehicle as she spoke, keeping her eyes on Drew and doing her best to look as though she was casually sauntering. He frowned deeply as she opened the door and took refuge behind it. Once the barrier was between her and the man on the porch, she felt better.

      “I need this job,” she continued.

      “Deb won’t hold it against you for not telling her about this.”

      Faith wasn’t so sure.

      He started down the steps, then stopped as her back stiffened. “She’ll hold it against me,” he said. Faith’s chin came up, but before she could speak, he added, “I’ll talk to her and mention that I wanted to explain before you said anything to her.”

      One corner of his mouth moved, quirking up into a humorless half smile that drew her attention to the fact that he had a nice mouth. She did not want to notice things like that about Drew Miller. It felt too dangerous.

      “I would appreciate that very much.” She gave him an unsmiling nod and prepared to duck into the cab of her truck.

      “Thank you.”

      She straightened, looking at him over the top of the door. “Excuse me?”

      “I owe you a thank-you.”

      “Yes. You do.” She saw no reason to deny it. She got into the driver’s seat when he moved toward her, pulled the door shut and locked it, hoping he would think it was an automatic feature of her vehicle—which it was not. He was her boss’s brother, after all.

      As he got closer, she rolled down the window a couple of inches, doing her best not to look like some kind of weirdo barricading herself in a car—although she’d do the exact same thing if she had a do-over. Fear and survival instinct trumped hurt feelings or seeming paranoid.

      He tilted his head so he could see her face through the window, his frown more perplexed than threatening.

      “Why are you afraid of me?”

      Her heart stopped as she stared into his cool blue eyes. Knowing she looked frightened bothered her.

      Faith moistened her lips, noted how his gaze followed the movement. This guy noticed details. He read people. He’d read her.

      “I need to go.” She owed him no explanations, and she didn’t want to say anything that would come back to haunt her later. Such as, You remind me strongly of my assailant.

      She didn’t talk about her attack. Didn’t want it to define her, didn’t want it to control her life any more than it already did. So she would drive away and deal with Debra tomorrow.

      “I know you do.”

      There was something in his voice that made her hand pause on the gearshift.

      “How?” The old Faith, the confident, bulletproof Faith, popped her head up.

      He shrugged his broad shoulders, making the fabric ripple. “I served long enough to know scared people when I see them. Hell, I was one of them sometimes.”

      She swallowed dryly, her hand still on the gearshift. “I see.”

      “What scares you, Faith?”

      She blinked at him. Giving up secrets meant giving up power. Or at least it felt that way. Her cheeks went cold, then warm. She was astonished to find that she was tempted to blurt out the truth. To a stranger. “How do you feel today?” she asked him instead.

      The sudden change of

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