“I can drive you to The Regal Beagle,” he said finally.
“I don’t even know you! You could be a killer or a . . .” I thought of the most insulting thing I could think of. “. . . a cold-blooded New Yorker.”
“A New Yorker?” Amusement colored his tone. “That’s the best you could do?”
“I’m working at a deficit.” I sniffled.
“Clearly,” he said. “I’m going to come closer.”
“Why are you warning me?”
“You’re not supposed to spook wild animals.”
I laughed and wiped the tears from my eyes. “Okay. Approach with caution.”
“Approaching.” He took a step toward me. And then another. “You really should let me take you to the hospital to get checked out.”
“I’m not adding an insane medical bill to the long list of problems I already have just for them to tell me I’m fine.”
He was silent for a moment and then he said, “You’ve got powder on your face.”
I wiped my cheek. “Did I get it?”
“No.” He paused and then he gently swiped his thumb across my cheekbone.
My insides quivered from his touch and my skin blazed with heat.
Huh. That’s new.
“Is your luggage in the trunk?” he rasped, his thumb still touching my skin.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
He dropped his hand. “You get your wine and chocolate, and whatever else you need from the car. I’ll get your luggage.”
He took a few steps down into the ditch and then popped the trunk and extracted my suitcase. I watched him load it into his truck before I even moved to get the Dusty’s bags from the back seat.
My phone had fallen out of the cup holder and had disappeared. With a grumble, I bent over and glided my hands across the car mat while my butt was in the air.
I encountered the rubbery phone case and grabbed my cell that had slid underneath the passenger seat.
“Poet Peabody.”
I froze like a fawn. “How do you know my name?”
He sighed. “It’s on your luggage tag.”
“Oh. Right.” I exhaled a slow breath and wiggled out of the car.
I closed the door and turned toward the truck. He had the passenger side open, and he was waiting for me.
“I’m Brooks. Brooks Keel.”
“Nice to meet you,” I murmured.
His name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
I took his offered hand. It was warm, calloused, and it sent a zing of pleasure through me.
