The way he stepped close enough that I could smell leather, cigars, and something distinctly him.
I've been attracted to him for months. Maybe longer. Maybe since...
No. I'm not going there.
Except I am.
Because standing here under the spray of water, I can't help but remember the night everything changed.
Years ago.
When I was eighteen and stupid and my father made a deal that nearly destroyed me.
I don't think about the assault.
I've learned not to let my mind go there, not to relive those moments in Bronco's hands.
Therapy helped. Time helped. But some things you never fully forget.
What I do remember is after.
Shadow finding me upstairs.
His voice, so gentle when he asked if I was okay.
The way he looked at me—not with pity, but with fury on my behalf.
Like he wanted to kill Bronco all over again just for touching me.
He gave me his word that night. Promised to watch over me.
And he has.
For years, Shadow has been there.
Not hovering, not smothering, but always present.
Making sure I'm safe.
Scaring off men who get too close.
Keeping the promise he made to my brother before Shiver left.
A promise Shiver told me about years later—that Shadow vowed to protect me.
I've trusted him with the worst thing that ever happened to me.
Why am I so afraid to trust him with this?
I shut off the water and step out, wrapping myself in a towel.
My reflection stares back at me in the foggy mirror—twenty-six years old, and I've barely let anyone touch me since Bronco.
There were a few attempts.
A guy I met at a vet conference who seemed nice until he put his hand on my thigh and I panicked.
A rancher's son who asked me out three times before I finally said yes, then couldn't go through with a goodnight kiss.
