It was just a name, said a little voice in her head.
She shoved it down.
Just a name, she replied to herself silently. That’s the whole thing. Why lie about such a small thing?
But the why of it all didn’t really matter. Not right then. All that did matter was getting away. Putting some physical space between herself and the big man. Even if that meant being unreasonable. Because clearly being near him clouded her judgment.
Reggie pushed past the tidy cabins. Rocks and pine needles and other, unknown bits of debris cut into the tender soles of her feet. She ignored the little stabs and kept going to the bottom of the driveway. There she paused.
The road or the woods?
The road would take her back to town. But Max—no, Brayden—would know that. If he was following her, he’d be expecting her to try to get home. And going home wasn’t safe anyway. She swallowed, thinking of her dad in his two-bedroom bungalow. Was he safe? Would Chuck come by there, looking for her?
Reggie shoved aside the worry. If the wayward cop did find a reasonable excuse for visiting her childhood home, he’d quickly figure out that Reggie hadn’t been there herself. And he wouldn’t want to make her dad suspicious. Being crooked didn’t make him stupid.
She took a breath and turned toward the forest. At the very least, it would provide a place to hide while she sorted through what to do.
“Reggie!”
The yell—up the driveway and as of yet out of sight—was enough to spur her on. She slammed her feet to the ground once more. In moments, she was pushing her way through the low, thick bits of greenery. She moved as fast as she could with the branches slap-slapping against her ankles and calves. Yard by yard, she put space between herself and the cabins. Brayden’s voice faded. Then it disappeared. And she kept going.
The shrubs gave way to bigger and bigger trees, spaced apart, their wide roots popping from the ground in a meandering, patternless dance. She didn’t let them slow her down.
At last the ground started to slope up, and Reggie knew it would only get more treacherous from there. Her breaths came hard and fast, and her face was covered in sweat. At last she stopped to gulp in some much-needed air and hazarded a look around. She could see the broken path she’d created, and also the way up the mountain. The rest of the area was made of enormous trees and a few crumbling boulders.
Had Brayden figured out yet that she hadn’t headed back into town? She couldn’t be sure. But she was almost certain that even if he had—and even if he was following her now—he was far enough behind that she could at last take a thirty-second breather. And she really needed one.
So she perched on the edge of one of the big rocks and rested her elbows on her knees, wincing at the sight of her feet. They were ragged. Covered in dirt and so torn up that she could pretty much count on an infection.
And that was almost as bad as the fact that it was nearly pitch-black.
Reggie lifted her gaze. The canopy above was so dark that it almost couldn’t be called green. The bits of sky between the covering branches were starless, and there was no moon to speak of, either.
Wondering if she’d put herself in even more danger by running, she closed her eyes and inhaled. Her breathing had slowed, and when a breeze kicked through the air, the dampness of her forehead made her shiver. But the chill brought on by the sound she heard next was far greater. The snap of twigs breaking under heavy feet.
With her heart thundering again, Reggie jumped up. The pain in her feet was immediate. And crippling. A cry escaped her lips, and she fell forward. The rocky ground loomed beneath her face and her eyes closed and her body tensed in anticipation of smacking into it. But before she could land, a strong hand closed on her elbow. It pulled her back, then she slid down to her knees. A second hand joined the first, moving over her shoulders, then under them. Together, they scooped her from the ground. Away from the pain. She knew without checking that it was Brayden. She recognized his touch. His scent, too. And in spite of the way her mind screamed at her that she was running from him, her body wanted to sink into him. Like she had before.
She fought the urge and instead yelled, “Put me down!”
“So you can run off and hurt yourself even more?” For the first time, he sounded a little impatient. “I don’t think so.”
“So you’re just going to do what? Carry me all the way back to the cabin?”
“Pretty obvious that you can’t walk there on your own.”
“You can’t hold me against my will.”
“I don’t want to hold you against your will. And if you wanted to leave the cabin, you could’ve just asked. I would’ve even driven you wherever you thought you needed to go.”
“You lied about your name.”
“It wasn’t quite a lie, and I would’ve explained it if you’d given me a minute.”
“Right.”
His chest heaved with a heavy breath. “Listen. My real name is Brayden Maxwell. Max is a nickname.”
Reggie wished her gut didn’t want so strongly to believe him. It was hard to argue with the instinct to trust. Especially when her nose was filled with his musky scent and his warm body was holding off the increasing chill in the air. It was a heck of a lot easier to justify running away like a crazy person when he wasn’t so close.
“Do you have ID?” she made herself ask.
“I do. Sitting in the center console of my car. Which is back at the house.”
“Not good enough.”
“What do you want me to do here, Reggie?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly.
He went silent for a minute. “Reach into my pocket and take my keys.”
“What?”
“My keys. You can use them like a weapon. Stab my eye out if I move the wrong way. Or you can use them to take my car. Either way, they might make you feel a little more secure.”
Reggie considered his suggestion. She knew he was probably just placating her. The fact that she was cradled in his arms kind of gave away the fact that he was the more physically powerful of the two of them. And realistically, he probably outweighed her hundred-fifteen-pound frame by a good hundred pounds of his own. He seemed almost oblivious to the added weight. But the idea that he was willing to add some vulnerability to his own side of things just to make her feel better...that was something. Or so she hoped.
“Which pocket?” she asked.
“Inside left.”
She lifted her hand and slid it along his chest. All on their own, her heartbeat sped up and her fingers slowed down. Her palm moved across his thick, more-than-obvious muscles, unintentionally exploring a little more than was necessary. No wonder he didn’t seem bothered by her extra weight. He was built like a truck. Reggie told herself to ignore it and will her hands
