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at the salon and how lucky I’d been to get away with nothing more than a scratch, the trembles returned. And then there was Hunter. A caveman who could now pass for Beckham’s younger buffed brother had saved my life and changed his personality with the snap of my fingers. I didn’t know much about mental health issues, but I did know that life’s scars were as difficult to remove as real ones. Should I have driven him, the way Emma had asked me? How long would Hunter stay here? Spending the night on my own wasn’t exactly at the top of my list, so the hope of keeping him with me overnight was completely selfish. And I was desperate to be selfish tonight.
    I towel-dried my hair and wrapped myself in my cotton robe. Hunter sat on a stool by the kitchen bar, gesturing to the seat beside him.
    “Better?” he asked.
    “Yes. Thank you for waiting with me.”
    “Of course. Where else would I be?”
    “Rehab. Shouldn’t I drive you there?” I asked for the umpteenth time today. Was there any way I’d get an answer from him as to why he was supposed to go there?
    And at that moment something passed between us. I wasn’t sure what it was, but the peaceful look in Hunter’s eyes and the vulnerability melted my heart. The idea of him leaving now just wouldn’t work. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to know what had happened to him to put him in a speechless zombie state earlier. Would he tell me?
    “Do you want me gone, Grace?” He swiveled the stool my way, patting the seat for me to sit down. I hopped up. My robe parted and my knee brushed against his leg. I held my breath before looking up into his beautiful blue eyes and whispering, “No. I need you here.”
    “Good, because I think I need to be here too.”
    The tension between us was like a wound fishing line holding a whale, ready to snap with a little tug. My pulse raced and I was beginning to worry I could become light-headed if whatever was happening here didn’t stop. While we sat only a foot apart, it felt too far. I wanted to be closer, much closer. I couldn’t help but feel that connection I always had when hope flourished in my chest—when I thought that the man sitting in front of me was “the one.”
    Oh God! It’s happening again. Emma’s gonna kill me.
    I’d promised my best friend I would stop thinking of guys that way. While she’d lost all hope a year ago when her boyfriend died, I vowed to find the spirit of Marcus, my fiancé, within another body and gave a fair chance to any guy I dated. Truth be told, most of them turned out to be jerks and didn’t deserve a second date, but Hunter had that aura about him that I hadn’t seen since Marcus died saving my life. Or was it just me again, fantasizing and mixing up reality with fairy tales?
    “You were quite brave back at the salon.” Hunter interrupted my thoughts as he began plating my food and his at the same time.
    “Too brave. Too stupid. I guess hanging around one of the bravest girls I know rubs off on you.”
    “You mean Emma?”
    “Yes. She’s like a sister to me. How well do you know her?”
    “I’ve worked for Cross Enterprises for six years now. But that’s as much as I can say. I’m under a contract.”
    “Oh. Secret stuff.”
    “You could say that.”
    “So why the mental institution?”
    “Trauma.”
    Well, that’s progress. It’s more than I got all day.
    “You don’t seem traumatized.”
    “Appearances can be deceiving, Grace. Another trigger and I could lose my ability to speak and move again.” He closed his eyes. “But when I remember those fingers of yours on my scalp… they brought me back. You brought me back.”
    I reached for the chopsticks at the same time as Hunter. Our hands touched and we both froze. A frenzied current of longing passed between us, slowly weaving through my body and all those parts that swelled when I saw a hot guy. Except now, that hot guy was sitting within reach.
    “I thought it was the gunshots that triggered you.”