My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I should just drive away. Go back to the ranch. This isn't my problem. She's a grown woman who can make her own decisions and getting involved with a single mom who's clearly running from something is the worst fucking idea I've had in years.
But the kid. That little girl with the stuffed elephant and sleepy eyes who shouldn't be sleeping in a cold car.
"Fuck it."
I climb out of my truck and approach the Honda slowly. The last thing I need is her thinking I'm some creep trying to attack her in a parking lot.
She sees me coming. I watch her body go rigid through the window, one arm wrapping around the kid. Her other hand reaches for something—pepper spray, probably. Maybe a knife.
I stop a few feet from the car and hold up my hands, palms out. Non-threatening. Or as non-threatening as a man my size can look in the dark.
She cracks the window an inch. "Can I help you?"
Her voice is cold. Defensive. Exactly what I expected.
"I'm not here to hurt you." I keep my voice low, calm. The same tone I use with spooked horses. "I saw you at Murphy's. Saw you setting up here."
"So?" Her green eyes are sharp despite the exhaustion. "I'm not breaking any laws."
"No, you're not." I run a hand through my hair, trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like a creep or a predator. "But it's going to get cold tonight. Too cold for a kid to be sleeping in a car."
"We'll be fine."
"Maybe." I crouch down so I'm at eye level with her window instead of looming over her. "But you don't have to be just fine. I've got a place you can stay. A cottage at the ranch I work at. It's warm, it's safe, and it's empty right now."
Her eyes narrow. "And why would you offer that to a complete stranger?"
Because Frank would've. Because I can't stand the thought of that kid being cold. Because you're fucking gorgeous and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you walked into Murphy's.
I don't say any of that.
"Because I'm not an asshole," I say instead. "And because I've got a niece around your daughter's age. If her dad was in your situation, I'd hope someone would help him out."
It's a lie. I don't have a niece, but it sounds believable. Humanizes me in a way that might make her trust me. I can see her internal debate playing out. Trust a strange man offering shelter, or sleep in a cold car with her kid.
"What ranch?" she finally asks.
"Promise Ranch. About fifteen minutes outside town. Six of us own it together, inherited it from the man who raised us." I keep my voice steady. "One of the cottages is empty this week. You can lock the door from inside. There's food in the kitchen, hot water, real beds."
"And what do you want in exchange?"
There it is. The question I knew was coming. The assumption that nothing's free, that there's always a price, especially for women who look like her.
"Nothing." I meet her eyes directly. "I want nothing in exchange. You can stay the night, get some rest, figure out your next move in the morning. Or you can stay longer if you need to. Either way, no strings attached."
"Men don't offer women 'no strings attached' anything," she says flatly.
"This one does." I stand back up, giving her space. "Look, I get it. You don't know me. I could be a serial killer or a rapist or whatever. But I'm not. I'm just a guy who knows what it's like to have nowhere to go and nobody to help."
That's true, at least. Those months after I got back from the military, going from town to town, drinking myself stupid trying to stop the nightmares. Waking up in alleys and parking lots and shitty motels that charged by the hour. If someone had offered me a safe place to sleep back then, I would've taken it.
She's still watching me, still calculating. Her daughter shifts against her, making a small sound, and something in the woman's expression cracks.
"How do I know you're telling the truth about the ranch?" she asks. "That you actually work there and aren't just making shit up?"
"You can call the ranch." I pull out my phone, showing her the screen. "Or I can drive ahead and you can follow me. That way you know where we're going and can leave if you change your mind."
She chews on that plump bottom lip, and I force myself not to stare. Not to imagine what that lip would feel like between my teeth.
