Page 14 of Tempting the Bounty Hunter

“Yes, thanks. New toothbrush, toothpaste, and razors.” A faint shadow darkens her face. “But I guess they’ll take all my stuff away again when I’m rebooked or whatever.”

I clench my jaw. “I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “You don’t have to apologize. I mean, this whole situation sucks donkey balls, but I get that you’re doing your job.”

I smile faintly. “It does indeed suck donkey balls.”

Her mouth twitches, and she climbs into the passenger seat. Before I can give in to the urge to kiss her again, I start to close the door. She brushes her fingers against my wristband.

“Is this a compass?” She touches the engraving on the medallion attached to the leather band. “What’s the symbol called…a compass rose?”

I nod, looking at the star-like shape pointing at the cardinal directions. I’ve never told anyone about the compass, but for her, the words come easily.

“My father gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday,” I explain. “Just the medallion. I remember being kind of confused because it wasn’t the kind of gift he’d give. He wasn’t sentimental or even emotional…just straightforward, down-to-earth, hardworking. But when he gave me the compass, he said I needed to always remember where I am.”

An old, familiar ache pushes at my chest. “Unfortunately, I lost my way more than once, but I kept the medallion in my wallet for years. After I got out of prison, I had it attached to a wristband. Figured if I saw it regularly, it’d help me stay on the straight and narrow.”

Hannah studies the medallion. “Sounds like it worked. That you haven’t lost your way since then.”

A tight, cold feeling slithers through me, but I nod and start to close the car door again. She tightens her grip on my hand.

“Before we keep going, is there a place we can stop so I can take a shower?” she asks. “Just a quick one. I haven’t showered in way too long, and the bathroom at the jail is horrible.”

“How is it you haven’t showered, but you still smell so damn good?” I shake my head in bafflement. “I miss one shower, and I stink like a muskrat. But you…you’re like a flower garden or a fruit orchard. Hell, I can smell you even when you’re six feet away. What is that? Oranges?”

She chuckles. The bell-like sound sinks deep inside me, echoing right into my soul.

“It’s my body wipes.” She pushes her sleeve up and extends her arm under my nose. “And probably the lingering smell of my orange-clove soap.”

I lower my head to her arm and inhale deeply. “It’s amazing. Never smelled anything like it.”

“I make it myself.” She takes her arm back and pulls down her sleeve.

“You make your own soap?”

“Mostly soap, yes, but I make other things too. Lotions, body butter and scrubs, bath bombs.”

“How’d you get started doing that?”

“I had pretty bad eczema when I was a kid,” she explains. “When I was a freshman in high school, I read an article about the harmful chemicals and preservatives in so many commercial soaps. So I asked my chemistry teacher if I could do a project making different soap recipes. She agreed, and I took the ball and ran with it. I was alone a lot outside of school, so I spent most of my time experimenting. I used whatever soaps I made, and my eczema cleared up within a few months. That gave me the motivation to keep working.”

“You’ve been doing it ever since.”

She nods. “Aside from using my products myself, it’s always just been a hobby. I have an idea about turning it into something more, although…”

I frown. “Although what?”

She clicks her tongue. “It’s kind of stupid.”

The wordstupidhits me like a bullet.

“You listen to me.” I grab her shoulders and pull her closer. “Stop thinking that any part of you isn’t good enough. Nothing you say or do orwantto do is stupid. You’re a bright, beautiful young woman with a wide-open future ahead of you. Whatever dreams or goals you have, youkeep them, okay? Fight for them. Make them real. Don’t talk yourself out of them or think they’re stupid. Don’t diminish your ideas. You can do anything.Beanything. Do you understand?”

She stares at me, her eyes wide. Sparks fly in the space between us.

“Hannah.” I flex my hands on her shoulders. I don’t know what to do with the sudden chaos roiling inside me. “Do you understand?”

Slowly, she nods. Sliding her gaze to my mouth, she lifts her hand slowly and touches the notch above my upper lip. The brush of her fingers is like an electric shock.

---