Page 7 of Their Reluctant Catch

“Asshole.” I rub the back of my head, grinning despite myself.

“Moron,” he shoots back, starting the engine. The van growls to life.

I adjust the blanket around the woman, making sure she’s covered. She doesn’t move, her face pale and peaceful in the dashboard’s dim light. My chest tightens again, and I brush a strand of hair away from her face, my fingers lingering a moment too long.

“Let’s take her to Mel,” I say, quieter than I meant it to be.

Colton nods and flexes his hands around the wheel. “Sound plan.”

As the van rumbles down the road, I glance out at the dark trees passing by, still cradling the stranger. I don’t know who she is, or how she ended up here, but I do know she feels right between the two of us. Like that isn’t weird at all.

Chapter4

Savannah

The first thing I notice is the warmth. Not the sticky, humid heat of Florida, but something softer, like being wrapped in an old quilt fresh from the dryer. I blink against the sunlight filtering through a small window and try to make sense of the room around me—dark wood paneling, a battered armchair in the corner, and the faint herbal scent in the air.

This isn’t a car.

I bolt upright, immediately regretting it when the world tilts and spins. Someone presses a hand gently on my shoulder, pushing me back against the pillows.

“Easy there,” says a woman, brisk but not unkind. “You’ve had quite the adventure.”

I crack one eye open, only to flinch and close it again. The room is too bright, the light too much.

After a few breaths, I try again, squinting until my vision adjusts.

She’s standing beside the bed, and her touch to my shoulder is light and reassuring—a woman in her mid-fifties whose sharp eyes seem to miss nothing. Her auburn hair sports a few gray streaks and is tied back in a ponytail, and her navy fleece vest over a flannel shirt is the kind of practical attire that screams small-town sensibility.

“Who are you?” My voice comes out scratchy, dry as sandpaper.

“I’m Mel. Nurse practitioner. And before you ask, you’re in Northwick Cove, at the house of the two brothers who found you stranded. Todd and Colton. Do you remember what happened?”

I rub my temples, trying to piece it all together. The car breaking down. The cold gnawing at my skin. Two tall figures leaning over me. It feels like a bad dream, but the chill in my bones says otherwise.

“Yeah,” I manage to say. “I remember.”

“Good.” Mel moves to the small table beside the bed where she pours steaming liquid from a thermos into a mug and hands it to me. “Here, drink this. It’ll help.”

I take a cautious sip, expecting coffee and wincing when the floral bitterness of tea hits my tongue. “Ugh. Do you have coffee? I think I’ve earned some caffeine after nearly freezing to death.”

Mel snorts, folding her arms. “You can whine all you want, but tea’s better for you right now. Hydration first, caffeine later.”

“I hate tea.” I scowl into my mug.

“It’s good for you. You don’t like it? Too bad.”

The corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. “Are you always this bossy?”

“Only when people are too stubborn to take care of themselves,” she shoots back.

I almost smile. Almost.

Since I’m thirsty and not in a fighting condition, I guzzle down half of the contents of my mug. “So,” I say, resting the mug in my lap, “I guess this is where you tell me what happened.”

Mel sits on the edge of the chair, assessing me like she’s deciding how much I can handle. “You were found about fifteen miles from here in a dead rental car. No heat, no cell signal, and temperatures cold enough to make you a popsicle if those boys hadn’t stopped when they did.”

“I wasn’t going to freeze to death,” I protest, though the shiver that runs through me suggests otherwise.

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