“I’m looking for my friend,” she blurted, words tumbling over each other. “Peyton. She’s been volunteering here all weekend with the rescue, and she didn’t come home. She was supposed to be back Sunday night, and now it’s Monday, and she missedclass today, and she’s barely answering my texts—and I know that probably sounds crazy, but she always answers her texts, like always, and this was the only address I had, and no one’s answering the door, and I don’t know where she’s staying, and this town is so small and dark and?—”
“Breathe.”
She blinked at me. Took a breath. Let it out slowly.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, and I was surprised by how much I meant it. Something about the panic in her eyes made me want to fix whatever had put it there.
“I know.” She shook her head, embarrassed. “I mean, I didn’t know at first. You came out of nowhere, and you’re…well, huge. And there are dogs barking, and for a second I thought maybe—” She stopped herself with a quiet laugh. “This town has serial killer vibes. No offense.”
“None taken.”
I should’ve been annoyed. Should’ve told her to move her car so I could finish unloading and get the hell out of here.
Instead, I couldn’t stop watching her. The way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The way she bit her lower lip as if trying to pull herself back together.
Fuck the pizza.
“Your friend Peyton,” I said. “She’s the volunteer coordinator.”
Hope sparked across her face. “You know her?”
“I know of her. She’s been running intake since Saturday.” I gestured toward the trailer. “Last I heard, she’s staying in town. One of the locals offered a spare room.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders finally dropped. “Oh, thank God. So she’s okay?”
“As far as I know.”
She pressed a hand to her chest and took another steadying breath. When she looked up again, the fear was gone. In its place was something quieter. Curious. Attentive.
“I’m Josie.” She held out her hand, like we were meeting at a dinner party instead of a dark parking lot after hours. “Josie Brennan.”
I took her hand. Warm. Firm. The contact sent a jolt through me I wasn’t prepared for.
“Roarke.”
She smiled. “Just Roarke?”
“Just Roarke.”
Her smile widened, doing something uncomfortable—and dangerous—to my chest. “Well, Just Roarke, I’m really sorry about blocking the driveway. I was kind of having a meltdown.”
“I noticed.”
Behind me, the dogs surged into another round of barking. Josie’s gaze slid past my shoulder to the truck, her eyes widening again—this time with awe.
“Are those all rescues?”
“Yeah. Picked them up from the shelter. They need processing before they can go into foster care.”
“You’re doing all that by yourself?”
I shrugged. “Someone had to.”
She kept staring, and I saw her expression shift. The panic was gone now, replaced by something steadier. Purposeful.
“I can help you unload,” she said. “If you want. I’m already here, and I don’t know where Peyton is, and it’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.”
“You don’t have to.”
