Outside the trailer window, twilight purpled the sky and shadows thickened. The darkening light gave Kason a dangerous edge. His skin was stretched tight across his cheekbones. His eyes glittered with an inborn toughness.
The man wasn't much for small talk. He ate his sandwiches, drank his Kool-Aid, then broke the silence on his last spoonful of soup. “Can I drive you to a hotel?” he asked.
She squared her shoulders. “No hotel.” She felt safe in the secluded trailer. She had no plans to leave.
“You're not spending another night here.” He pushed to his feet, pierced her with a look. “You've overstayed your welcome.”
“I could say the same for you.”
He collected the paper plates and bowls.
She dogged him to the kitchen.
He dumped their dishes in the trash.
She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot, totally resistant.
Kason picked up the tire iron, slapped it against his palm. The air tensed and pulsed and her heart bumped hard. His eyes narrowed on her, and not in a good way.
Dayne suddenly wished she'd snagged a plastic fork when she'd had the opportunity. It was too late now. She had no protection against this man. He looked ready to strike.
Dayne flinched.
And Kason frowned.
Long seconds ticked by as he stared at her.
Her breath collected deep in her chest. She could barely exhale. Swallowing proved impossible. She'd gone cold.
The hands on the kitchen clock swept a full minute before he tossed her the tool. “I don't hit women. You keep the tire iron.”
Relief swept her. She wouldn't have stood a chance against this man. He was ripped and rough and could've crushed her.
Yet he hadn't moved a muscle.
She'd misread him. “I can stay?” she dared to ask.
A shift of his jaw, followed by, “One more night, in the guest room.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“We hitch a wagon to your bicycle and you pedal your food down the road.”
Two
The butt crack of dawn rolled Kason Rhodes over on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling and listened. His bedroom was quiet—way too quiet. Where the hell was Cimarron? The Dobie had slept at the foot of Kason's bed ever since he was a pup. All night long, Cim chased rabbits in his sleep and snored like a water buffalo.
There was no sign of his dog.
Kason had slept alone.
He stretched his naked body and yawned deeply. Pushing off the bed, he slipped into a pair of navy sweatpants. He ran his hands down his face, then through his hair. It was April 2. Memories flooded him.
He'd shave his head today—after he located Cimarron and ran six miles.
Kason scoped the hallway and living room. No Cim.
He returned to the guest bedroom, knocked on the door. He was greeted by a bark. He turned the knob and walked in. Uninvited. What he saw pained him greatly.
Curled at the head of the bed, Cim wagged his tail, but didn't budge. His head owned a pillow.
“Still sleeping...scram.” Dayne waved the tire iron at him in warning as she snuggled deeper beneath the covers. Kason caught a glimpse of her bed head and the pillow crease on her cheek before her body went soft once again.
Put out, he left the guest room. He shut the door with more force than was necessary. His dog and the tire iron had slept with Dayne. And were still in bed with her.
Cimarron's obedience suffered at the hands of the tomboy. The big dog had gone all protective over her. Kason wouldn't have a companion for his run.
He grabbed a cut-off gray sweatshirt and tied on his Nikes. He realized the longest relationship he'd had recently was with his running shoes.
Slipping out the front door, he took to the dirt road. Woods spread in all directions, dense with evergreen, white elm, and red maple. Wildflowers colored the ground in swaths of blue and purple.
The sun was barely up, the air crisp. He stretched his body until it was loose and fluid, then broke into a jog. He pushed himself hard, his mind blank, conscious of nothing but the race of his heart.
He returned to the trailer in forty minutes, breathing heavily, his chest fully expanded. He walked around his mobile home while his pulse slowed.
That's when he spotted Dayne's Schwinn, blue and rusty and locked to the trailer's hitch. Why she'd secured it was beyond him. No one in his right mind would steal a bicycle with a loose chain and bald tires. Even the white basket was lopsided.
The bike had a mile's worth of pedaling left in it, and that was if she rode slowly.
Kason stared at the Schwinn until he heard Dayne raise the kitchen window, and the scent of coffee crooked like a finger, drawing him inside.
He found her standing before the stove, fresh-faced and ponytailed. One step closer, and he was nearly licked by the tongue on her vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt when she bent to feed Cimarron.
She fed Cim a whole load of scrambled eggs.
Two cartons of Grade A’s lay open on the counter. One was completely empty. The Dobie wolfed down his breakfast, then wagged his stubby tail for seconds.
Dayne looked at home.
Kason didn't do settled. The tomboy had invaded his privacy. Spoiled his dog. All not to his liking. It was time to move her on.
She looked up and offered, “Omelet?”
He'd shared dinner with her, but wouldn't do breakfast. She'd be gone by lunch.
“Just a cup of black coffee.” He tugged off his sweatshirt, swung it around his neck. He then blew on the Styrofoam cup she handed him; it was filled to the top and steaming-hot with a generic blend.
While he slowly sipped, her gaze cut to his shoulders, lingered on his pecs, looped to his abs. He was hot and sweaty, and she checked him out fully.
Most women went all flirty and suggestive in their appreciation of his body. Some went as far as to rub against him. Yet there was nothing sexual in the tom-boy's look.
She took him in, and one corner of her mouth pinched before she looked away. Totally indifferent.
Apparently he wasn't her type. Not that he cared. “Shower time.” Coffee in hand, he moved down the hall.
Twenty minutes later, towel-dried, Kason stood in a pair of navy boxers before the bathroom mirror and shaved his head. No one knew the reason behind his behavior. His private life was private. Most thought him mental.
The buzz of the shaver sent a strange calmness through his body. The tingle of his scalp brought back memories.
Memories of the events that had made him who he was.