He backs up again right away. That’s surprising. I didn’t expect murderers to be so…considerate of personal space. “You were in an accident,” he tells me in a patient voice as I feel for the lamp, clutching my forehead with my other hand. “You hit your head pretty hard. I brought you up to my place so you wouldn’t freeze to death. I own the hardware store in town—people know me. I swear, I’m not going to murder you.”
I hold out the lamp as if it’s a gun. My head aches so much. “Just tell me where my car is. I’ll be on my way.”
“First of all, your car is smashed against a tree about three miles down that way,” he says, pointing. “Second of all, you’re not going anywhere in this storm, unless you have a death wish. Third of all…what exactly is your plan with my lamp?”
I shake it at him. I’m not sure why. It just seems like the right thing to do in the moment. “I’ll…break it over your head if you come near me.”
In a flash, the lamp is out of my hand in his. An eyebrow cocked, he sets it down on a table far away from me. “I’d rather you didn’t. My grandfather made that lamp for my grandma when they first started dating. It has sentimental value to me. You understand.”
A sentimental serial killer? Do those exist?
“Just stay back,” I order, crab-walking backwards. My clothes are still intact, but I’m not wearing my coat or my boots. I don’t know how far I’ll be able to run in socks in the snow.
Something nudges me from behind and I squeal in surprise, whipping around, which makes my head hurt even worse. Huge brown eyes stare at me timidly from a broad doggy face as the animal I frightened earlier creeps towards me.
The dog is huge. It’s definitely part pit bull based on the wide skull and shape of the snout, but it’s less stocky than a pit, lean and sleek with long legs and a longer tail.
“That’s Sadie,” the blue-eyed murderer tells me, folding his arms and leaning against the table he set the lamp on. “She won’t hurt you.”
As if on cue, Sadie lowers herself to her belly and crawls toward me. I gulp and watch her, waiting for the quick lunge to my throat.
Instead, she rests her head on my knee and whines at me.
“Well?” Killer says, the chuckle he’s trying to hide evident in his voice. “She’s asking to be pet. You gonna leave her hanging?”
“What is happening?” I murmur, but those big, dark eyes of Sadie’s swallow me whole and I put both hands on her head. She’s all soft velvety fur, and her tail thumps the side of the couch happily as I stroke her head and rub her ears. Before long, she’s fully in my lap, all what has to be ninety pounds of her.
“She thinks she’s a cat sometimes,” Killer informs me. “But she likes you, all things considered. Maybe don’t yell around my dog next time, yeah? She doesn’t like that.”
“Sorry,” I mutter automatically, gazing down into Sadie’s liquid brown eyes, then snap my head up. “Wait. You’re really not a murderer?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no, I’m not a murderer.” He holds up his palms. “I’m just the hardware store owner. My name’s Asher Hillsong. Nice to meet you, Stephanie.”
I was this close to accepting his words as truth, but his use of my name snaps me back. “How the hell do you know my name?”
Asher gestures to a bag on the kitchen table—my bag. Then I notice my suitcase is on the floor underneath it. “I’m sorry for violating your privacy, but I had to know who you were. I tried to get a hold of some contacts in your phone, but the cell signal’s knocked out, apparently. On my phone too.” He hands me my purse and I immediately rifle through it, going for my wallet to make sure all my money and cards are there. “I promise, I just looked for your driver’s license. That’s all.”
This man saved your life. My inner voice kicks in, full of scorn. You’re treating him like a criminal. Maybe try saying thank you?
I stop my rifling, my cheeks flushing, and lift my gaze to him. “I’m—I’m sorry. I’m out of it, I’m scared, and my head hurts. I—thank you. I’d probably be dead if you hadn’t found me.”
Sadie whines a little from my arms again, as if to agree.
Asher gives me an understanding smile. “I don’t blame you one bit. I’m a stranger. You’re right to be suspicious.” Then he squints at me. “Of course, you could be a serial killer too, and this is just your ruse to get unsuspecting men to fall into your trap. How do I know you’re not a murderer?”
I laugh weakly. “Well, I guarantee you’ll have a pretty easy time fighting me off.” Sadie slides off my lap, and I rise, my knees wobbling. “I can hardly stand by myself.”
Asher reaches my side in two steps, sliding an arm around my waist, frowning. “You really need to lie down. You could be concussed.”
He’s tall. Like, really tall. He’s easily got a foot of height on me, and the arm around me feels rock solid, secure. Like I could never fall with him near me.
He gestures toward a room down the hall. “You can use my bed.”
I want to protest, but a wave of exhaustion sweeps over me. Suddenly, lying down in a bed and taking a nap sounds like the only thing I want to do in my life.
He leads me down the hall. His bedroom is simple but comfortable—creamy gray walls with white trim, glossy dark wood floor covered with a big throw rug. The bed is king-sized, with four tall dark wood posters and piled high with comforters and furry throw blankets.
I moan before I can stop myself. “That looks like heaven.”
He chuckles softly, pulling down the comforter. “I can’t complain. I like it here.”
It occurs to me dimly that he must not have a wife or a live-in girlfriend, because it seems like such an intimate thing to do—offer the space where you lay your head to a perfect stranger.
There’s a fireplace in the wall across from the bed. He kneels to start a fire, and I take the opportunity to pull off my sweater and jeans as fast as I can and slide into the bed. The back of my mind screams at me that I shouldn’t be doing this, that he’s a total stranger, but my body begs me for rest. The end of the world couldn’t pull me from this bed right now. I’m not going anywhere.
I’m buried under a mountain of blankets, listening to the friendly crackle of the fireplace, and suddenly, things don’t seem so bad. Sure, I wrecked my car, I’m totally lost, I have no food, and my cell phone doesn’t work.
But a fresh pine and spice scent clings to the pillow under my head. The bed embraces me like a long-lost lover. And a warm, soft hand lands on my forehead.
“You’ll be all right,” the deep, gentle voice whispers to me. “Just rest.”
The words, the voice, the scent, and the protective muzzle of a dog resting on my leg follow me into a deep sleep.
You’ll be all right.
4
Asher
A city girl. Who the hell knew the next woman I’d be even remotely attracted to—and with Stephanie, that’s putting it mildly—would be the very sort of woman I told myself to stay far away from, forever?