Deep Wood

“There’s more in my wallet. I just have to find it.” She sets her backpack on the floor. I squint against the fluorescent lights, growing less easygoing by the second.

Dark-brown hair slips out from the girl’s hood as she kneels to search her bag. I catch myself swaying as my energy levels plummet, and my patience spreads itself dangerously thin. If the only thing standing between me and a bed is one absentminded teenager with a sweet tooth, I’m willing to throw some money at the problem to get it out of my way.

“I don’t have time for this.” I pull out my wallet, side-stepping the girl, and smack two twenties onto the counter. “Ring her up.”

“I said I have it.” The girl looks up at me with wide, impossibly green eyes, ringed with too much eyeliner. I stagger back a half-step and then catch myself. She’s gorgeous, but it’s more than that. There’s something familiar about her, though I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is. Her tongue slips out to wet her bottom lip, a flash of pink on pink. Instantly, my whole body comes alive, as much as it can, given my exhaustion.

Even my goddamn cock wakes up.

“Sir,” says the clerk, splintering my attention, “you’re offering to pay for all of this?”

“This, too.” I set my own stuff on the counter.

The girl rises, her mouth bent into a frown, but she doesn’t argue as the clerk rings me up and bags her stuff. I force myself to stop staring at her lips. Somewhere inside me, I feel an instant connection to this girl. But there’s no way in hell we’ve met before. I’d never forget a face like hers.

My temple throbs as the muscles in my legs start to twitch. It’s got to be the twelve hours of driving, or the four hours of sleep. But part of me wonders if it has something to do with this teenager. I’ve never wanted to get both closer and further away from someone so badly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

“I know.” I pocket my change, and it takes everything I have to drag my ass toward the exit, away from the very attractive—and very young—roadside distraction.

I’m halfway out the door with my stuff when I hear the girl call out, “Thank you!”

As much as I want to get one last look at her, I don’t let myself turn around.

Chapter Two

Silas

Back in my truck, I crack open one of the five-hour energy shots and take a swig. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back against the headrest, giving the rocket fuel a few seconds to kick in—and my body a chance to calm the fuck down.

What the hell was that about? Sure, it’s been a quick minute since I’ve been with a woman, but I can’t recall ever being drawn like that to someone, and certainly not some random teenager I just met.

I practically jump out of my fucking skin at the rap-rap-rapping on the driver’s side window.

“Jesus...” My pulse races at the sight of the girl from the store, standing outside my truck, her face half-illuminated by the overhead light pole. She smiles, and fuck if it doesn’t make my chest flutter, just a little.

Against my better judgment, I roll down the window. She immediately rests her hand on the door.

“Hey, again.” She’s tied her sweatshirt around her waist, revealing curves I hadn’t noticed in the store. There’s a two-inch slit down the front of her white tank top. From my vantage point, I can clearly make out the small points of her nipples pressed against the cotton.

No bra. None needed, though she’s hardly flat-chested.

A little more than a handful, I catch myself thinking. Knock that shit right off.

I do not have time for this.

“You’re from Wisconsin,” she says. When I don’t respond, she adds, “I saw your plates.”

“How perceptive.”

“That’s me, always one step ahead.” She hikes her backpack onto her shoulder, but keeps her hand on the door.

I force myself to appear calm and impenetrable. To ignore the part of me that desperately wants to find out if her skin is as soft as it looks. What the hell is she doing out here, by herself, at eleven o’clock at night? Is she camping with friends, or did her piece-of-shit boyfriend send her out alone to pick up supplies?

Jesus fucking Christ, do not borrow trouble. I don’t know a damn thing about this girl. There are a hundred reasons why she could be out here buying camping supplies. I don’t see any other cars in the lot, but there are cabins and camp sites littered all over these hills. All I need to worry about is getting back on the goddamn road.

Happy Camper here is just gonna have to find her own way home.