Page 5 of Xavier

“Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

His dark and heated gaze locks back onto mine. “I’m no one.”

I cross my arms and glare at him. “Bullshit.”

The hint of a smile forms on his face, like he’s amused by my profanity. “Then how about you tell me who I am since you know so much?”

I stare at him before letting my gaze wander over his entire length.

He’s fit, but more than the average gym guy. His strength comes from years and years of manual labor and not from lifting weights.

He’s older than me, probably in his mid to late thirties, and his hair is cut short. As is his beard and mustache.

The wind blows his masculine scent toward me, assaulting my senses. It’s musky and woodsy, like bourbon and pine trees, filling me in ways I’ve never felt before.

How can I be turned on from cologne?

He clears his throat. “Well? Who am I?”

I stand up straighter, square my shoulders, and rattle off my thoughts.

“Male. Mid to late thirties. Out-of-towner. Fit, like you’re used to hard work. Mechanic maybe, but not likely with your haircut. Possible military, law enforcement, or government agency.”

My gaze moves to his left hand before returning to his. “And not married, possibly single. New to town and maybe ready to settle down.”

His chuckle is lighthearted and the complete opposite of his expression.

Needing to know how close I was to nailing his details, I ask, “So, was I correct?”

He smirks but doesn’t answer. “Have a good night, Princess.”

He turns around and walks away, leaving me with my thoughts.

Who was that man? And why does it feel like he lit a fire inside me? A deep, panty-melting, soul-consuming fire.

I might not have gotten his name, but I’ll find out who he is. This is a small town, and like he said, my family is practically royalty.

With a stupid grin on my face, I head to my car.

I dig my keys out of my pocket and unlock my car door. Just as I reach out to grip the handle, someone wraps one gloved hand around my mouth and the other around my waist.

Shit. I’m being kidnapped.

I try to scream, but it’s a lost cause. The only thing I can do is say a silent prayer and fight for my life.

Chapter Two

XAVIER

The first drops of rain fall on my windshield, letting me know the storm is approaching faster than the meteorologists expected.

I’ve been through my fair share of storms, but never a category three hurricane.

Turning on my windshield wipers, I pull into the parking lot for the town’s only bar.

My phone dings with a text from Hudson.

ETA is two and a half minutes. I’ll be there in one. Order me a large Guinness.

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