Fuck. Of course the motel is closed. Because nothing about this journey has been easy.
"I'll figure it out." My standard response. I always figure it out, even if it means sleeping in the car with the doors locked and my pepper spray in hand.
Murphy nods slowly, like he wants to say more but thinks better of it, and heads back to his grill. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and try to focus on the menu, though the prices are swimming in front of my eyes from exhaustion.
I can feel the big guy's attention on me. Not staring exactly, but glancing. Watching in a way that makes my skin prickle with awareness that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the fact that he's built like he could snap me in half.
Broad shoulders stretching a flannel shirt. Thick arms. Dark hair that's a bit too long, like he hasn't bothered with a haircut in months. I shouldn't be noticing. Shouldn't be cataloging the way his hands look wrapped around his beer bottle or wondering what those hands would feel like on my skin.
Jesus Christ. I haven't had sex in over three years. Not since before I got pregnant, and apparently, my body has decided now is the time to remind me of that fact.
I force myself to look away, focusing on Rosie's sleeping face instead. She's what matters. Finding us somewhere safe to stay, somewhere I can actually work and provide for her. Not lusting after some random man in a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere Montana.
Murphy brings my food, and I eat it quickly, barely tasting it even though it's probably the best burger I've had in months. I break off pieces for Rosie when she starts to stir, wiping ketchup off her fingers with napkins and making sure she drinks her milk.
The big guy never approaches. Never tries to talk to me. Just sits in his corner booth and eats his own food, occasionally glancing in my direction but never holding eye contact long enough to make it uncomfortable.
Part of me is grateful. Part of me is disappointed, which is fucking stupid because the last thing I need is some man complicating my life.
I pay my bill with precious cash I can't really afford to spend, leave a small tip because Murphy was kind, and gather Rosie back into my arms. She's more awake now, looking around with sleepy curiosity.
"Mama, where we going?" she asks in that sweet toddler voice that still makes my heart clench.
"Gonna find us a place to sleep, baby girl." I push open the door, the cool night air slamming us again.
The big guy is still inside. Still sitting there. I can see him through the window as I buckle Rosie back into her car seat, hishead turning to watch me even though he's not being obvious about it.
"You know what, Rosie?" I murmur as I slide into the driver's seat. "I think we're just gonna sleep in the car tonight. It'll be an adventure."
She doesn't protest. She's used to this by now. Sleeping in the backseat when motels are too expensive, too full, or too sketchy. I've gotten good at finding parking lots that are well-lit but quiet, places where we won't get hassled by cops or creeps.
I pull out of Murphy's parking lot and drive slowly through town, looking for somewhere suitable. There's a small park with a streetlight, but it's too open. A grocery store parking lot, but there's no overnight parking sign posted. Finally, I find a spot behind what appears to be a closed general store. Well-lit enough from the streetlamp across the road, but tucked away enough that we shouldn't attract attention. Good sightlines so I can see if anyone approaches.
"Okay, baby." I climb into the backseat with Rosie, arranging our blankets and pillows into something resembling comfortable. "Time for bed."
"Story, mama?" Rosie asks hopefully, clutching Mr. Trunk.
"How about I make one up?" I settle her against my chest. "Once upon a time, there was a brave little girl and her mama..."
Chapter 2 - Mason
She's fucking gorgeous.
I know I shouldn't be thinking that. Shouldn't be noticing the way her curves fill out those tight jeans or how her purple cardigan clings to her full breasts.
But I can't help it. Haven't been able to stop looking since she walked through Murphy's door with that toddler on her hip, exhaustion written into every line of her body.
She's clearly tired. The kind of bone-deep weariness that comes from more than just a long day. And still, she's beautiful. Dark frizzy hair falling out of her messy bun, green eyes that dart around the room like she's cataloging exits, those full lips wrapped around her burger in a way that makes my cock twitch inappropriately.
I force myself to look away, focusing on my own half-eaten meal. My beer. Anything but the single mom who's clearly running from something.
What the fuck is a woman like her doing in Blackwater Falls? Eating at Murphy's at this time of night with a toddler who should be in bed?
None of my business. That's what I should be thinking. Should finish my food, pay my bill, head back to the ranch and my empty cottage where the nightmares wait.
But I can't stop watching her through my peripheral vision. The way she tenses every time I glance in her direction. How she chose that booth specifically: close to the exit, far enough from me to maintain distance. She's smart and cautious and clearly used to being on her own.
The kid wakes up partway through, all sleepy and adorable, and the woman's entire face transforms when she looks down at her daughter. Soft. Tender. So much fucking love it makes my chest ache.
