Her Mountain Sanctuary

Again she felt very close to hating him for making her feel this way. Her reactions were not his fault, but it was demoralizing to discover she hadn’t healed as much as she’d thought she had.

“Yeah, you can.” The words sounded choked as she fought to control the fight-or-flight instinct. She pressed a hand to her chest, her voice sounding slightly more normal as she said, “Tell your sister about the accident. You’ve put me in a hard situation by not telling her.”

She moved toward her running vehicle as she spoke, keeping her eyes on Drew and doing her best to look as though she was casually sauntering. He frowned deeply as she opened the door and took refuge behind it. Once the barrier was between her and the man on the porch, she felt better.

“I need this job,” she continued.

“Deb won’t hold it against you for not telling her about this.”

Faith wasn’t so sure.

He started down the steps, then stopped as her back stiffened. “She’ll hold it against me,” he said. Faith’s chin came up, but before she could speak, he added, “I’ll talk to her and mention that I wanted to explain before you said anything to her.”

One corner of his mouth moved, quirking up into a humorless half smile that drew her attention to the fact that he had a nice mouth. She did not want to notice things like that about Drew Miller. It felt too dangerous.

“I would appreciate that very much.” She gave him an unsmiling nod and prepared to duck into the cab of her truck.

“Thank you.”

She straightened, looking at him over the top of the door. “Excuse me?”

“I owe you a thank-you.”

“Yes. You do.” She saw no reason to deny it. She got into the driver’s seat when he moved toward her, pulled the door shut and locked it, hoping he would think it was an automatic feature of her vehicle—which it was not. He was her boss’s brother, after all.

As he got closer, she rolled down the window a couple of inches, doing her best not to look like some kind of weirdo barricading herself in a car—although she’d do the exact same thing if she had a do-over. Fear and survival instinct trumped hurt feelings or seeming paranoid.

He tilted his head so he could see her face through the window, his frown more perplexed than threatening.

“Why are you afraid of me?”

Her heart stopped as she stared into his cool blue eyes. Knowing she looked frightened bothered her.

Faith moistened her lips, noted how his gaze followed the movement. This guy noticed details. He read people. He’d read her.

“I need to go.” She owed him no explanations, and she didn’t want to say anything that would come back to haunt her later. Such as, You remind me strongly of my assailant.

She didn’t talk about her attack. Didn’t want it to define her, didn’t want it to control her life any more than it already did. So she would drive away and deal with Debra tomorrow.

“I know you do.”

There was something in his voice that made her hand pause on the gearshift.

“How?” The old Faith, the confident, bulletproof Faith, popped her head up.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, making the fabric ripple. “I served long enough to know scared people when I see them. Hell, I was one of them sometimes.”

She swallowed dryly, her hand still on the gearshift. “I see.”

“What scares you, Faith?”

She blinked at him. Giving up secrets meant giving up power. Or at least it felt that way. Her cheeks went cold, then warm. She was astonished to find that she was tempted to blurt out the truth. To a stranger. “How do you feel today?” she asked him instead.

The sudden change of topic seemed to surprise him. It surprised her, but it also put her back in control of a situation she’d been in danger of losing control of.

“Sore as hell. But alive. Thank you for rolling me onto my back last night.”

She gave a small snort. “Least I could do.”

Something changed then. Momentarily lightened. Emphasis on momentarily. Faith was no longer a woman who allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of false security by a charming remark or smile.

“I’ll call my sister.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

He shifted his weight. “I don’t know what it is about me that sets you off, but I promise you I’m not an ax murderer or whatever my sister led you to believe.”

Relief washed over her as Drew provided a logical motivation for her fear. An excuse. She grabbed it with both hands. “She didn’t say anything to make me think you were...that.” But her inflection made it clear Debra had said things about his “issues”—which she had.

“Maybe not an ax murderer, but she paints me in a way that makes people wonder if I’m one step away from going postal.”

And what was she supposed to say to that?

She’d called Jolie from work that afternoon to ask about Drew. Jolie said he was a stand-up guy.

Was.

Jolie hadn’t talked to him since he’d returned home, since life and the military had changed him.

Faith took hold of the gearshift again.

They were neighbors. She worked with his sister. She was going to see Drew Miller again, and she didn’t want this situation hanging over her head. She put the truck in Reverse but kept her foot on the brake as she forced herself to do the hard thing. “The way I act around you has nothing to do with your sister.”

His gaze narrowed, but other than that he didn’t move a muscle. He waited for her to continue, which made her wonder if he was afraid of spooking her. “Almost two years ago, I was attacked by a man in a parking lot at a rodeo. A...big man.”

An expression of dawning understanding transformed his features. Softened them to a degree.

“And I’m a big guy.”

“You are.”

He gave a very slow nod, his gaze dropping as he once again folded his arms. When he brought his gaze back up, she was surprised at how open it was. “I’m sorry to hear that happened to you.”

Faith gave a jerky nod, but didn’t answer.

“It explains a few things.”

“I didn’t want you to blame your sister for putting ideas in my head.”