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    “I guess I’ll see you around. Be careful, okay?” Richie pulled on his cap and gave her a pointed stare. She nodded back, her expression sincere. Careful should have been her middle name.
    Okay, so she was taking a gamble, but the odds were good. Murphy had been around for a week, enough for her to weigh him up and work him out. She wasn’t expecting a relationship; it was the last thing on her mind, and she knew his business wouldn’t keep him here long. She liked the way he seemed a little sweet on her, and she felt a little sweet on him too, enough to put aside her fears and see where things went. Watching the door close behind Richie, knowing the last of the customers had left, she wondered if she was doing the right thing.
    Ignoring the insistent knock of her heart as it pounded against her torso, she took a long breath, pulling the air deep into her lungs.
    How much of a risk was one night with a new friend?
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
    The slow rumble of a distant engine told her Richie had reached the main road, leaving her alone with Murphy in the bar. She walked over to the main door and slid the deadbolts through their channels, hearing them clank as they eased into the locks. As she switched off the neon “Open” sign, she realized how isolated the bar was, nestled off the Lower Hillbrook Road, a good two miles out of town.
    Her spine itched with the need to shiver as she wondered if she’d done the right thing. She reminded herself she’d only offered him a couch, something any Good Samaritan would do. She needed to stop thinking herself crazy.
    She needed to pick up the empty glasses and clean the tables before she could call it a night, and she got to work. As she walked over to the middle of the room, it was hard not to feel Murphy following her every move. Her insecurities rose to the surface, making her wonder if her butt was jiggling too much and if her hips were a bit too wide. She’d put on a little weight since she’d moved to Hillbrook—a combination of lack of exercise and less than ideal nutrition making her jeans half a size too tight. If she’d known a tall, handsome stranger was coming to town, maybe she’d have eased off the cookie jar or refused an extra helping of Marianne’s apple pie. As it was, he was staring at her in all her 130-pound glory.
    When she looked up at Murphy, catching his appraising gaze, she realized the extra inch didn’t matter at all. There was something about the way he stared which made the heat pool in her belly, warming and teasing her from the inside out. Being alone with him was enough to make her skin prickle. 
     “You want another beer?” She leaned over a table in the middle of the bar, picking up the last of the glasses the boys had left. One of the tumblers stuck to the wood, spilled beer acting like glue on its base. She pulled hard, hearing the crackle as the glass gave way and broke from the wood of the table.
    Then her world came crashing down.
    “No thanks, Lucy.” He spat the words out like they were a bitter pill, enough to chill her from head to toe. He didn’t sound like the Murphy she’d gotten to know, the soft-voiced guy who cleared the parking lot of snow and listened to her stories with a smile. This Murphy—the one with the edge in his voice and her old name on his tongue—was a stranger. One who scared her shitless. And he knew who she was?
    Her feet were glued to the sticky wooden floor, her pulse racing. Hearing her real name was enough to remind her of long, dark nights spent in agony, her face pushed down into dirty tiles, hands bound behind her back. It made her remember pain and misery and a life not worth living, things she had buried for so long she thought they’d disappeared. As they rose to the surface, they brought with them the fear and terror she’d tried to suppress. They wrapped around her heart and squeezed it tight.
    Survival instinct kicked in, along with a shot of adrenaline. Rachel