When Bruce Met Cyn Read Online Free PDF

in a long, exaggerated sigh. “Look, Cyn, it’s obvious that you’re running away from something or someone. You’re afraid.”
    She tried to square her shoulders again, but she was just too tired. “Maybe I’m running to something. Did you think of that?”
    Rather than scoff, he asked, “Visitation?”
    â€œAnd why not?” Did he think his little Podunk town was too good for her?
    His sympathy washed over her like a gentle, warm wave. It was the weirdest sensation, as if she were being drawn to him, as if she knew him, even though they’d just met. He wasn’t the man in the recurring dream, but still, she was started to believe him.
    How stupid could she be?
    Okay, so he wasn’t your average run-of-the-mill guy. He sure as certain wasn’t a run-of-the-mill preacher, either. But he did seem genuinely kind. And caring, and sincere.
    â€œYou left your luggage in my car.”
    â€œI know.” She rubbed her face tiredly. “It was stupid of me.” Because she’d always prided herself on not being dumb, it hurt to make that admission. But everything she really needed was in her purse anyway. She wore the strap across her body and over her neck. No one would be able to yank it off her shoulder, not without taking her head off, too.
    â€œYou’re afraid of me now,” Bruce pointed out, “but you weren’t. Not until I mentioned I was a preacher.”
    There was an unasked question there, and she supposed, given her behavior, he deserved an explanation or two. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t add up. You and church pews…nope. It feels suspicious.”
    Incredulity rang in his tone when he said, “Suspicious enough to make you leap out of a running car?”
    Though he couldn’t possibly see, Cyn made a face. “You weren’t going that fast and you refused to let me out.”
    â€œIf you asked to jump off a bridge, I’d refuse to let you do that, too.” He waited, huffed at her continued silence. “All right. You think I’m lying? Why?”
    â€œPreachers don’t look like you.”
    She saw his teeth again, and felt his amusement. “Is that so? Are you giving me a compliment or an insult?”
    Cyn snorted. In some respects, men were all the same. Little by little, the sense of threat had entirely evaporated. She’d overreacted—she knew that now. But she wouldn’t keep feeling foolish because of it. Better to make too much of something than to be caught with deceit.
    She pushed away from the tree and dusted off her bottom. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you have to know you’re gorgeous.”
    He continued to grin. “Thank you.” Casual as you please, he produced a hanky and used it to wipe her face. “You’re a mess.”
    The gesture so took her by surprise, she froze. His touch was light, gentle, as if he worried he might hurt her.
    Some strange, exceptional sensation expanded inside her. It was a dangerous feeling, stealing her breath, making her heart race. It made her weak—and so she rejected it.
    She shoved his hand away. “How the hell can you see?” She narrowed her eyes and strained, but could only see the dark shadows of his body.
    â€œYou’re very white,” he said in a near whisper. Then louder, with a smile, “Except for all that long black hair.”
    â€œWitchy hair, I know.” She turned her head and spit. “Ugh, I ate so much dirt, I shouldn’t be hungry anymore.”
    Again, with unfamiliar tenderness, he smoothed her hair back, handed her the hanky, and then took her arm to start her back toward the car.
    Like a zombie, Cyn found herself following. But really, what other option did she have? She didn’t want to walk miles and miles in the dark, in the cold, in her skimpy sandals. She was already beat. And sleeping in the woods with the threat of wild animals didn’t sound