The man edged closer, his grip firm on the door as he leaned in. “You look scared. There’s no need to be scared, pretty lady. I’d never want to hurt someone like you . . . even if you are a King.”
The way he said “King” made it clear he held no love or affection for her family.
Rowan’s pulse roared in her ears. “I said I need to go.”
“And I said just a minute.” His voice darkened.
Her breath caught.
She yanked the door.
It didn’t budge.
And she wasn’t sure how she was going to get away.
Wes Bennett eased his truck around the curve, one hand resting on the wheel and the other draped near the console. The narrow road wound through dense trees.
He didn’t mind.
After years of crowded cities and constant noise, places like Blue Ridge Hollow felt honest. What you saw was what you got. There was no pretense to this mountain town.
As he turned into the next bend, movement flashed in front of him.
A shiny black Tesla shot out from a gravel drive, tires spitting loose stones into the road.
Wes jerked his wheel to the right and slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting the other vehicle.
His truck lurched, and the back end fishtailed before the tires caught again.
Rocks crunched beneath him as he skidded to a stop just short of the sharp drop-off on the other side of the road.
Everything went still as the dust settled around him.
His pulse thudded before finally settling.
Wes exhaled and straightened in his seat. That had been close.
The car in front of him sat crooked in the road. Maybe the other driver was just as stunned as he was.
He threw his truck into Park and looked at his dog, Remington. “Stay.”
Then he stepped out and shut the door with controlled force. There was no need to escalate this conversation. Accidents happened.
Still . . . that driver had been going entirely too fast for a road this narrow and winding.
He paced toward the car, already scanning the vehicle. Was the driver okay? The windows were too tinted for him to see inside.
Finally, the door opened, and a woman stepped out. Before he even saw her face, he saw her jerky movements and knew she was shaken.
Wes slowed. Something about her posture, about her blonde hair, about her slim build caught his attention.
Then she turned toward him.
Recognition hit hard and fast.
He knew this woman.
But the girl he remembered had changed since he’d last seen her. Her hair was lighter, her frame thinner, and she had the presence that belonged on a screen instead of a back road like this.
