Damn, even her name is pretty.

“Trent.”

“Well, Trent, thanks for everything,” she says with a sigh. “You really saved my neck back there.”

I grunt, thinking back to what Dave said about Jasmine. Something about cocaine and a vehicle. It’s hard to imagine the sweet angel beside me taking drugs, but she’s young. Early-twenties. It’s not exactly unheard of for college students to party a little too hard.

I’m about to ask her more about what happened when I hear a rustle somewhere nearby. The hairs on my neck stand on end and I instinctively freeze, holding out a hand to stop Jasmine in her tracks. It might be nothing. A bird or some other harmless critter. But I’m on edge as we keep walking. Jasmine is struggling to keep up with my strides, panting hard as we climb up the hill.

“You want me to carry you?”

She laughs a little between breaths but stops when she looks at my face. “You’re serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

There’s another rustle. This time Jasmine hears it too. I see her flinch, her brow furrowing anxiously.

“I…” she begins. “No, I’m way too heavy for you to carry all the w—”

I don’t let her finish. The noises have me spooked, and I’m not taking any risks. For all I know, Dave is back with a whole damn search team, and I can’t let them take Jasmine. I hoist her over my shoulder with ease, carrying her fireman-style, and she yelps with surprise as I start to run.

3

Jasmine

This is nuts. How the heck did my boring life get turned upside down so fast? An hour ago I was doing data entry, and now I’m draped over the shoulder of a giant mountain man as he hurtles through the forest, carrying me to his cabin to save me from the cops…who are looking to arrest me for drug possession and resisting arrest.

Not exactly a typical Tuesday afternoon.

Trent barely seems to break a sweat as he carries me through the forest. One of his huge hands is clutching my bare leg, the other holding onto my wrist, and my skin tingles at the contact. It’s not the moment to be thinking about how hot my mountain man rescuer is, but it’s pretty hard to ignore. Trent is six and a half feet of solid muscle. He’s the biggest man I’ve ever seen, with a thick black beard and intense brown eyes. A deep scar runs from his eyebrow down to the corner of his mouth, and somehow, it only makes him look more ruggedly handsome.

It was pretty intimidating when Trent appeared, hulking over the bush I was hiding in, those intense eyes fixing on me. But once I realized he wasn’t going to rat me out, I found myself trusting him. I’m lucky he showed up when he did. Otherwise, I’m sure the cops would have arrested me and charged me with drug possession, and there’s nothing I could have done to prove that Danny planted the powder in my car. But even though I’ve escaped for now, God knows what I’m going to do next. Trent’s cabin will be a brief refuge, but I can’t stay there forever.

“We’re here,” that deep, growly voice says a few minutes later, making my heart stutter in my chest.

Trent puts me down gently, and I swallow hard, trying not to let him see that I’m blushing.

Seriously, Jasmine? Of all the times to get a crush!

“Thanks,” I say, looking down at my feet. “You’re right, that was definitely a lot faster.”

“No problem.”

I finally look up at Trent’s home, unable to hold back a gasp. It’s a gorgeous log cabin surrounded by colorful wildflowers. The trees are thinner here, and through the gaps of the trunks there’s a breathtaking view of the surrounding mountains. It’s like something out of a Disney movie—the dwarf’s cottage from Snow White. Kind of ironic since Trent is a giant.

“This place is beautiful,” I say, momentarily forgetting about my problems as I soak in the tranquil setting. The sound of traffic is far behind us now, and there’s nothing but the chattering birds to break the silence.

“Glad you like it.”

I follow Trent through the oak front door, marveling at the cabin’s cozy wooden interior with its brown leather couch, plump armchairs, and a stone fireplace big enough for me to stand up in. There are several photographs on the mantel, along with a display case full of medals. I’m itching to get a closer look, but Trent is already ushering me onto the couch and I don’t want to be caught staring.

“Thanks again for everything,” I tell him, sighing with relief as my aching joints relax against the soft couch. “God, just saying thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

Trent ignores my thanks. He’s too busy peering at my cut-up arms, frowning with concern.

“Some of those look nasty.” His voice is a deep rumble that makes me shudder involuntarily.

“They only sting a little. I don’t think they’re deep.”