Finding Home

The man can technically work from anywhere he wants. Knowing this makes me realize that I may not be as useful to him since I will be thousands of miles away. Regardless of what happens, I am confident that Mr. Weston will give me a stellar recommendation. I’m not worried about finding a new job. It isn’t an opportune time but my skill level and dedication can’t be matched. I’m sure he will provide me with a nice severance package too, which will hold me over until I find something. I am technically under contract with him for another year but I don’t think he’ll need me that long.

“Hey!” I snap when I feel my bag being tugged from the tight hold I have on it. My eyes drift down to it, seeing a man’s big hand trying to grab the strap on the side. The hand looks giant and rough.

Oh hell no, I did not come from the city to this little podunk town for some jerk to try to rob me. I debate using my common sense and letting the bag go, knowing you never fight a mugger, but my stubbornness gets the best of me. It usually does.

I go with pulling back on the bag. I’m in a freaking airport right now. Is someone seriously trying to steal luggage from me inside the terminal? There are people and security everywhere. This man has some nerve. Okay, maybe I’m not in New York, but I am in the middle of nowhere and this airport is dead. My head jerks up, my movements freezing as my eyes land on the smiling gray eyes of a strange man. His gaze is so startling that it momentarily stuns me. This handsome idiot picked the wrong girl to mess with.

“Only wanted to help you, sweetheart.”

My mouth falls open, my hand releases the tight hold on the bag, and my mind immediately recognizes the sound of that voice.

“Colton,” I breathe out. A mixture of anger and arousal swirls through me at the sight of him. I knew this town was small, but small enough to run into the one person you’re trying to avoid at the airport? That’s a pretty big coincidence for this tiny town. Something about it seems very suspicious.

“At your service.” He smiles, giving me a wink. I reach for my bag but he’s already moving away from me, taking it with him.

“Hey!” I run after him, trying to catch up. “Give me back my bag,” I demand. My heels click on the tile floor loudly as I try to keep up with him. I thought country people moved slow!

I’m used to being around big men. Actually I’m only used to being around one big man, Mr. Weston. He stands out easily in a crowd, which has always made my job a little easier. I never have to waste time looking for him. Colton is as big as Mr. Weston, if not bigger. He might be a touch taller in fact, now that I’m getting a good look at him. Colton isn’t as refined as Mr. Weston; he’s rougher around the edges. He is also smokin’ hot, but I’m not going to admit that anytime soon. His ass is firm and muscular under the jeans he’s sporting. But right now I need to focus on getting my bag back from him. I finally get close enough that I’m able to smack his arm. He stops dead in his tracks and turns to face me.

“I can carry you too if you’d like.” Those gray eyes flick over to me. “Those shoes look like they hurt.” His eyes travel down my legs to linger on the pair of heels that I’m wearing. They just happen to be my favorite pair. I love them not only because they are pretty but they aren’t too hard on my feet.

“You could always give me my bag back instead of making me run around the airport in these heels,” I snip back. “These are light and comfy, for your information.” I try to keep a bite to my words because he’s openly checking out my legs. I’m not sure if I have an attitude because what he’s doing is rude or because I like it. I’m enjoying him doing it more than I should, so I’m going to guess my problem is with myself.

“That’s good, sweetheart, because those heels look damn good on you. I never understood why women wore them before today, but I no longer need to wonder.” That smile grows bigger. “I’ll never be able to erase the vision of you in those shoes from my mind.”

My heart flutters at his comment—forgetting once again that he stole my bag. It isn’t until we are outside and I see his giant truck parked at the curb that I know why he took it. He opens the back door, putting my suitcase in the back seat. He shuts the door and then opens the right passenger door, gesturing for me to get in.