him, brushing his hair back. He took a deep breath.
Freedom. Wind and air, no matter how volatile, would always feel like freedom to him. To all of them. They’d been captured by the enemy and tortured for more than seven years, but that hellhole was far away. He hadn’t had a flashback in eons, and it was surprising how close one had just come.
His hands shook, so he shoved them in his pockets. His bar called to him, and he really wanted a whiskey. So he purposely stayed outside, away from alcohol.
No person or habit would ever rule him again. Alcohol was to be enjoyed for fun, not used as a crutch. Period.
He surveyed their land. Rolling hills and cattle stretched out as far as the eye could see, showing fences and waterways that led right up to the brutal mountains around them. They’d build a ranch to the west and another to the east once the weather calmed down. For his brothers. They might’ve had different parents, but they’d bonded in blood and death. Become brothers. Family. When they’d remade themselves, when they’d rebuilt themselves, they’d done so here in the wilds of Wyoming.
Sounds came from the kitchen, and he partially turned to see Hallie setting out fixings for breakfast, her movements economical and smooth. Her lips were pursed as she concentrated. She filled out her sweater and jeans like a bombshell from a fifties movie. Her thick mahogany hair was piled on her head out of the way, and his fingers itched to tug that clip out and let the mass fall wild and free around her shoulders.
He’d survived an unimaginable hell, and he’d made a new life here. Although it didn’t make any logical sense, he was starting to want her in it, and he’d never lost a campaign or a battle of wills. But was he fighting himself or her? He had survived hell, and he didn’t need any more risks. Any more responsibilities. No matter how special she was—or how badly he already wanted her.
She looked up, her gaze catching his.
He smiled, letting the predator in him show, maybe wanting to scare her off. He definitely expected her to look away.
She didn’t. Her lips firmed and her chin actually lowered.
Challenge accepted.
CHAPTER SIX
Hallie finished the fifth load of laundry and stared at the different piles she’d created on Trent’s oversized bed. Covered in a deep gray comforter, the bed was so large, it had to be a special order. The room smelled like him—woodsy and wild.
She frowned at the stack of ripped and torn jeans, having started it as a possible throwaway pile. It turned out that almost all of his jeans were ripped or torn.
She’d hung shirts in his oversized closet but didn’t want to go through his drawers to figure out where to put socks, boxer-briefs, and the jeans. She bit her lip.
There was something way too intimate about doing Trent’s laundry. Especially after that kiss earlier.
Her mind was still reeling. She touched her lips again. Who kissed like that? She’d forgotten everything while his mouth was on hers.
Thunder rolled outside, and she jumped. She was getting in way too deep with the cowboy, way too fast. She couldn’t get him killed. And yeah, she kind of liked the way he looked at her—as if she was sweet and smart. She really didn’t want him to know what a moron she’d been.
Because he was almost perfect. Tall and strong, tough and kind. More importantly, he had a safe job ranching in Wyoming. Maybe she could head back this way once she’d figured out her life.
Once she found safety. If she became safe. She returned to her room, picking up the burner phone and doing a quick search on the Internet before making her call.
“Mac’s,” a deep voice answered.
She cleared her throat. “Um, hi. This is Hallie, and I think you have my car? It’s red and needs something called control arms?”
“Yep. This is Mac. What can I do for you?” Mac had a low drawl and sounded like he was in his early thirties.
“You can get control arms faster than a week,” she said in a rush. “Is that possible?”
Mac was quiet for a moment. “Nope.”
She blinked. Just nope? “How necessary are control arms?”
“Well, do you want your suspension system to allow your tires to go up and down in a controlled manner?” Mac drawled.
She sighed. “Only if absolutely necessary.”
“It’s necessary,” Mac returned. “Where’s Trent, anyway?”