Tomorrow I’d go see her. I didn’t know exactly what I’d say, but I knew one thing for certain—I wouldn’t scare her away this time.
I just hoped my dragon agreed with the plan.
Chapter 8
Liz
Iwoke up in a real bed for the first time in a week. The mattress in Reese’s RV was surprisingly comfortable, and I slept like the dead until my phone alarm blared.
Now, sitting at the tiny dinette table with my second Diet Pepsi of the morning, I finally felt clear-headed enough to take stock of my situation. I pulled out a notebook and pen from my backpack and drew a line down the middle of the page.
I started by listing what assets I had that hadn’t been squandered away.
There wasn’t much. What was left after Scott’s gambling had gone into shutting down the business—paying the crew, closing accounts, buying our way out of leases. After that, there had been the missed rent payments on the house.
I hadn’t had to file for bankruptcy, but boy, had I been close.
My list of what I had was depressingly short and included my decade-old car with over a hundred thousand miles on it, under three hundred dollars in my wallet, my laptop, and the ridiculously valuable knife.
On the other side, I made another list.
Job. Sell the knife. Health insurance, because perimenopause was a nightmare. New glasses. A dental checkup I’d skipped twice already.
I stared at it, then added one more.
Lucan.
Something about him made my skin prickle with awareness. The way he’d watched me from across the dinner table last night, like he knew something about me I didn’t.
I scribbled over his name several times until it was a black rectangle.
My phone dinged with the calendar notification I’d set as a reminder for Lucan’s visit to look at the knife.
I stood up too quickly and felt a wave of dizziness. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the knife from where I’d hidden it in a sock in my duffel bag and slipped it into my pocket. I drained the last of my Diet Pepsi and stepped outside.
The morning air was a bit crisp, but the sun was bright. I pressed the button for the awning, hoping to create a little shaded area for our meeting. The motor whirred as the fabric extended about halfway before making a grinding noise and stopping.
I’d need a stepladder to mess with it, but I hadn’t seen one in the storage compartment.
The rumble of an engine drew my attention as a white truck pulled up in front of the RV with “Ashford Basin Forestry Service” on the door. Lucan stepped out, and my mouth went instantly dry.
He looked as if he’d stepped out of some forest ranger calendar. Aviator sunglasses reflected the morning light, and his tan work shirt had the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. The green utility pants hugged his thighs, and my eyes lingered longer than was polite. A radio was clipped to his belt, and he wore a baseball cap with the forestry logo on it.
He reached into the truck and pulled out a drink carrier and a pastry box.
I realized I was practically drooling and subtly wiped at the corner of my mouth. Holy hell, he was hot. Unfairly hot. No man who works outdoors for a living should look that good in a standard-issue uniform.
“Good morning,” he called, his voice deep and rumbly in a way that made my chest flutter.
“Morning,” I managed, trying not to stare at the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders.
He walked over to the picnic table and set everything down. He handed me a cup, and our fingers brushed. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm that I didn’t need to be thinking about right now.
“I brought cream and sugar, too.” He opened a third, smaller cup that had a variety of sugar packets and creamer cups stuffed inside. “And the best donuts in Ashford… well, actually, they’re the only donuts in Ashford.”
He opened the bakery box, revealing a small assortment of pastries, with two gorgeous chocolate-glazed donuts dusted with chopped pistachios right on top.
Damn it.
