So. Total. Victory.
I sling my tote bag over my shoulder and head out the back, taking a long breath of cool mountain air. The sun’s already dipping, leaving Silver Peak in that gorgeous evening light that makes even dumpsters look kind of magical. I’ve definitely missedthat.
I’m halfway to my car when it happens.
I hear awhuff.
A blur of motion. A warning bark.
Then, bam.
I’m hit.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
A giant furry missile crashes into the backs of my knees, and I yelp as gravity abandons me. My feet fly out from under me, arms flailing, the world tilting sideways.
But I don’t hit the pavement.
Becausehe’sthere.
Knox.
I don’t even see him coming, but suddenly his arms are around me. He must’ve run,sprintedacross the lot, catching me just in time. My back slams hard against his chest, knocking the breath from my lungs.
One arm wraps tight around my waist, the other braces under my ribs. I’m plastered against him, heart pounding, breath caught, brain short-circuiting.
He’s warm. Solid. He smells like pine and firewood and a danger I probably shouldn’t want.
“Shit,” he mutters, holding me against him like I might still fall. “You okay?”
I nod. Or maybe I shake my head. Hard to tell with my brain rebooting.
Then I realize how close we are, and I twist in his arms, turning to face him.
Our eyes lock. His jaw is tight, brows drawn low. His hands are still on me.
And suddenly,Ican’t breathe.
His jaw is clenched, muscles twitching like he’s trying not to say something he’ll regret. His brows are drawn, his stormy eyes scanning my face like he’s checking for damage. One hand still rests on my waist, fingers flexing once before going still.
I blink up at him, heart in my throat.
He frowns down at me like I’ve personally offended his entire bloodline.
I realize, belatedly, that one of my legs is half wrapped around his. My hair is tangled in the top button of his Henley. One of my sneakers is missing. My tote bag is somewhere.
And then, from the corner of my eye, I see movement.
A giant, shaggy golden retriever bounds into view, tail wagging so violently his entire back-end wiggles with the force of it.
“Oh wow,” I gasp, eyes wide. “You have a dog.”
“That’s Tuck,” Knox mutters, loosening his grip like he’s afraid he’ll combust if he doesn’t. “He’s enthusiastic.”
“You think?” I wheeze, still mostly draped across him. “I think he cracked a rib with his joy.”
“You flailed,” he deadpans, jaw still tight, but an intensity flickering behind his eyes.
