Page 11 of Found By You

“Are you hungry?” he asks, following me with the case of water in hand as I push us back into the chilly motel room.

I set my purse and grocery bag on the table with a sigh. “I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that,” he grinds out in clear frustration.

This guy is too much.

What does he expect me to say? That: No, I’m not fine. Yes, I am hungry. Or maybe he’d like to know how I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I do right now.

The very thought is enough to make me burst into tears.

“Hey, you all right?” he asks, closing the space between us in two long strides as I turn away.

When he lays a gentle hand on my back, I quickly wipe away the useless tears on his overly large, hoodie sleeves. When he took this off to give it to me, I was torn between pouncing on the man or drooling senseless. The way his tattered white T-shirt underneath started to ride up, exposing a set of thick, taut muscles patched with dark hair on his abdomen leading into the deepest V cut I’ve ever seen.

I bet he could—Stop it, Maci.

These damn pregnancy hormones. I swear it’s turning me into some harlot. Not that that’s a bad thing, of course.

I blow out an exaggerated breath in an attempt to reel my emotions in check.

“Do you know anyone in Montana?” His voice is low, comforting, and filled with concern. When I turn to him, he’s watching me. Sharp brown eyes appearing almost caramel in the soft glow from the nearby lamp.

“No,” I confess.

He nods, pulling out his wallet and fishing out a business card. “The second number is my personal cell. Send me a text now so I have your number, and I’ll give you a call first thing Monday morning.” He slips the card between my fingers as I get my phone to do as he says. “If you need anything—and I mean, anything—you call me. Got it?”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. The stern tone of his voice doesn’t match the kindness behind his eyes. “Yes, sir,” I tease.

He shakes his head with a crooked grin. “I’m serious, Maci.”

Warmth spreads throughout my body. From my toes to my fingertips, I’m acutely aware of how close he is to me right now. “I know.”

Seemingly satisfied with my response, Duke stalks over to the heater, smacking it again for good measure. “Well, at least it’s blowing out something. You sure you’ll be all right here?” he asks for the second time tonight, and I’m starting to get the impression he’s reluctant to leave at all.

“Yes,” I say. “And if I’m not, I know this bossy mechanic. I’m sure I could call him if I need anything.” Oh, lord, I’m flirting with this guy.

His grin widens. “Sounds like a stand-up guy.”

I shrug. “I don’t know, he’s pretty bossy so far.”

He chuckles deeply, gesturing behind him with a jerk of his thumb. “All right, well, I’ll let you get some rest.” He points at my phone in hand. “Make sure you call that bossy mechanic if you need anything.”

I smile. “I will.”

When he leaves, I lock the door behind him and go to the window to tug the curtains closed, then pause. Duke hops in his truck, his gaze lifting to bore into me with an unreadable expression.

I suck in a breath and give a little awkward wave before closing the curtains.

I can’t believe I just flirted with him. When all he did was be a complete gentleman, not a serial killer in the slightest, and here I am—hormonal and horny—wishing he’d toss me on this creaky motel bed and have his way with me.

I need to get it together.

I put a few things away before taking a long, hot shower then change into a pair of pajama pants, two pairs of socks, and another long sleeve. I reach for Duke’s hoodie then hesitate, deciding against wearing it to bed.

I turn off the lights and flick on the TV to curl up under the covers. Shivering at the cold chill everything has on it, I wait for my body heat to do its job as my mind starts to rattle through the too-few options I have going forward.

I slip a hand out from my huddled mess of stiff sheets and a sorry excuse for a comforter to grab my phone. I swipe through, clicking on the schedule I made for myself, and realize I should be starting my new job one week from today. Except…if Duke is right, there’s no way I’ll make it there on time.

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