Page 20 of Mountain Hero

Or does it? Staying in a motel room, scared and relying on a person paid to protect me? Not being able to go out to get food or clothes without an escort?

Enzo is still looking at me expectantly. “Are you sure?”

I could say yes. But haven’t I caused him enough trouble already? And Enzo must be eager to deal with all the issues at his store—fixing whatever Thomas broke, insurance claims… He’s being kind by making the offer, but I think I’d end up being an inconvenience to him.

“I really appreciate it. Truly. But it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” I squeeze his hand. “I know you have lots to do. Taking care of the store and all. I’ll be alright at the motel.”

He stares at me, his gaze narrowed and assessing, and for a moment, I think he’s going to push. That he’s going to try to convince me, and I might actually change my mind if he does. Even though I know it’s the smart thing to do, I’m not sure I could turn Enzo down if he asks again.

A big part of me wants to stay with him. He makes me feel safe. Protected. Even before all this, I was drawn to Enzo. He captured my attention from the first time I met him.

But he doesn’t push. He just gives my hand an answering squeeze and says, “I understand. But I’m giving you my number. And if you need anything, call me. I mean it. It doesn’t matter what time it is. Okay?”

A lump forms in my throat. And before I can stop myself, I lean over and hug him. “Okay.”

CHAPTER 6

ENZO

Why did I invite Winter to stay here?

What was I thinking?

Not that I wasn’t sincere about the invitation—I’d much rather know Winter is safe here than at that dark and depressing motel all alone—but she just escaped an abusive and traumatic situation. There’s no way she’d want to stay with a man she barely knows.

Although it doesn’t feel like I barely know her.

From our first meeting, there was an immediate connection. Winter didn’t feel like a customer, but someone I’d known for years. Instead of making small talk like I usually did, I found myself opening up to her—telling her about leaving the Army to take over the store, how much I still missed my uncle, and how odd it felt coming back to Bliss after so long.

Talking to her felt natural.

Everything feels natural with her. Holding her hand at the store, and again in the hospital. Comforting her when she cried. Wanting to protect her.

Shit, even asking her to stay at my house felt like the most natural thing. Which is absolutely crazy since I’ve never even lived with a woman. I dated plenty, but never let anything get serious enough to have that living-together conversation.

A niggling thought keeps working at me, like a splinter wedged in deep.

What if I had asked her out? Would Thomas still have come after her? If Winter and I had started dating, would he have given up on his sick obsession? Would I have been around to stop him if he tried to take her?

Why didn’t I ask her out that day?

All the reasons come back to the same thing. I was afraid of letting someone in.

I was still dealing with so much—missing my uncle, my team, the only life I’d known for two decades—I couldn’t imagine opening up to anyone. I told myself I was in no place to be dating when I couldn’t even get my head on straight.

Except it wasn’t that simple, and Winter made it past my defenses, anyway.

I’ve thought about her since that day in the store, hoping in the back of my mind that she’d come in again. That if Winter showed up it would be like a sign that I should do something. But she didn’t come, and I kept myself busy and rarely went into town, and I didn’t even know she was missing.

Shit.

I feel pretty damn terrible about that. So many what-ifs and they all lead back to the fact that Winter was scared and hurting and alone and no one knew.

Is it any wonder I’d rather see her here, comfortable and safe and with someone to look out for her instead of a tiny motel room with a lumpy bed and a cop outside who’s probably spending more time on his phone than watching out for her?

Fine. That’s not entirely fair. There are some good cops in town. Patrick, for one. But still. I’d wager money none of the officers on the Bliss police force have the kind of experience I do.

I glance out the window into the backyard, this time seeing a swathe of stars winking above the trees. It’s a perfect summer night, like the ones I remember from when I was a kid—warm enough to sit outside and count the stars, but cool enough to make s’mores over the still-glowing coals on the grill.

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