Nick

I roll down the window and breathe in the scent of freshly mown grass as I speed down the old state highway that now looks like some sort of backwoods backroad. Although it's humid and hot as hell in the southern atmosphere, the fresh, earthy smell of Tennessee is starting to put me in a slightly better mood. Just a little bit.

It sure beats the mechanical, polluted smell of Boston anyway.

The reporters. Always in my face, trying to twist anything into a scandal. Starting rumors.

Yeah, it's no wonder I have a permanent scowl on my face.

Of course, I still kept my house in the city, but it'll be nice to have this country house to get away to when I want a break, and I'm in desperate need of one right now.

As the owner of one of the biggest software companies on the globe, I can work from wherever I want. Yeah, there are certain meetings I have to conduct in person in the city, but there's no reason why I can't conduct some of them virtually too. The hell away from everybody.

And I gotten this mansion in Tennessee for a steal. What would normally be a thirty million dollar home in Boston I got for a mere two million. Not like I'm lacking in finances. I'm one of Boston's most eligible billionaire bachelors—a moniker than makes me scowl just thinking about it—but I'm a smart investor if nothing else, so I couldn't pass up on the deal when I came across it.

I've never lived in the country before. I was born in the city—with concrete under my feet and all that—but my folks were from around here, so I have some sort of relations in the area even if I've never explored them. Maybe it's time I connect with my roots and slow it down a bit. Get a breather from the hustle and bustle of the city.

I only wish my parents were here to share in my success. They died in a car crash when I was a teen, so they never got to see my rise to billionaire status, and they weren't here for me to buy them the home of their dreams in their hometown, so I guess I'm doing this partly in their honor.

I reach over to flick on the radio and grimace when the twang of country music filters through the air. I hurry to change the station. I might long for the solitude and beauty of the countryside, but that doesn't mean I enjoy the whining that is country music. My tastes are much more refined. I finally find a station playing some light instrumental and leave it there.

When my eyes flick back up to the road, I slam on the brakes with a curse and skid to a stop.

A young woman stands fearlessly in the middle of the road with her hand held up to stop traffic. Granted, I'm the only traffic around. There are no other cars on this otherwise deserted road, but still. Jesus, I could have run her over.

My chest heaves with the adrenaline of my heart jumping up into my chest in panic at the close call, but the girl seems unconcerned. Her fiery red hair curls all around her face and shoulders like a lioness' mane before falling down to her waist. It's unruly and wild, making her look like something untamed.

My eyes rove over her slim frame, from the baby blue tank top and faded cut-off shorts to the thin, tan-colored flip-flops on her feet with red-painted toenails.

I watch in fascination as she bends down and picks something up out of the middle of the road. When she straightens, I see what's held in her hand and give an incredulous bark of laughter.

A turtle. The girl risked her life to stop traffic and help a turtle cross the street.

I watch as her long legs walk deftly to the other side of the road where she sets the terrapin down on the grass well off the side of the pavement before giving his shell an affectionate pat. She stands and starts to cross the road again to get back into the beat up-looking white truck I've just now noticed sitting on the side of the road.

I lean out of my rolled-down window, "Seriously? You realize I could have run you over?" I ask her with a growl, irritated that she put her life at risk in such a way.

She pauses by my luxury rental car and looks into my eyes for the first time.

Her eyes are a cerulean blue, a stunning color combination with her red hair. Her skin is flawless and milky, not tan like I'd normally expect of southern girls. Her lips are pink and lush, and I can't stop the visceral and immediate reaction of my body to the whole package of her looking at me directly like this.

She's stunning, but it's more than that. Something I can't put my finger on. Something that causes my chest to squeeze and renders me incapable of tearing my eyes from her.

She shrugs down at me like the fact that she endangered herself so recklessly is no big deal. "He needed help," she states simply, her voice smooth and musical and utterly feminine and innocent at the same time.

Her nonchalant attitude snaps me back to the matter at hand. I frown at her. "Nevertheless, that was dangerous."

She frowns. "He's an innocent animal. Somebody had to save him from assholes like you who come speeding down the highway like a bat out of hell. I couldn't just let him get run over."

I blink at the dressing down she gives me and regard her curiously. I can't remember the last time someone talked to me that way. Even the city's most powerful men know better than to show me such disrespect. "You have no sense of self-preservation, do you?"

Her eyes flash at the reprimand, and she crosses her arms over her chest as she points out, "Standing here arguing this point with you is keeping me in the middle of the road."

I realize she might have a point there. She raises a delicate brow at me. I'm stopped in the middle of the road, detaining her from getting back into her shitty-looking truck and getting out of the potential line of traffic.

"Get out of the road," I order her, waiting until she frowns but moves to do as I say before I maneuver my car onto the side of the road behind her truck.

She stops with a hand on the door handle to her truck and looks back at me as I just sit there watching her. I think I might be freaking her out, but I just want to make sure she gets in her vehicle okay and that the piece of shit starts.

It looks dubious at best.

I make a motion at her through my windshield, urging her to go on, and her pretty little lips turn down into a scowl, obviously put off at a complete stranger like me ordering her around. I feel my lips twitch. She's a firecracker. In every way, from her sassy little attitude to that captivating mane of red hair.

I watch patiently as she yanks on the door of the truck and then climbs up into the vehicle that looks way too big for a cute little thing like her.

If she were mine, I'd have her driving a sleek little Mercedes that would complement her but still provide plenty of safety.

She'd be wearing designer labels that would do her figure justice. I'd cover her with aquamarine diamonds that would only bring out the blue of her eyes.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel with the clarity of the images my mind conjures.

I don't know anything about this girl, but she looks like she should be mine .

I frown as I hear the turning of her truck's engine before it craps out. The fucker won't start. Just as I suspected. I honestly don't know how she drove it here in the first place. The piece of junk looks like it was on its last leg ten years ago.

I put my car into drive and pull up right beside her before putting it back in park. The window to the truck is rolled down. If I had to guess, I'd bet my last million it doesn't have working air conditioning in it. She eyes me suspiciously as I roll down the passenger side window before nodding to the seat next to me, "Get in," I tell her.

She stares at me from the inside of the truck before she scoffs, "Uh, yeah, no way, buddy."

Daisy

I watch his jaw tense as I tell him there's no way I'm getting into his car with him. He might be the most breathtaking man I've ever seen, but I don't know hide nor hair about him, and even the devil was supposedly God's most beautiful angel—that's what my gran says anyway.

His hair is dark and carelessly tousled in a stylish way. His arms look muscular beneath the dark button-up shirt he's wearing, the sleeves rolled-up to reveal strong forearms and a few buttons undone to reveal the top of his chest.

My heart thumped in my chest when he first spoke to me so moodily. A strange warmth filled my body at the deep timbre of his voice, but it was quickly tempered with annoyance at his sharp tone, ordering me about as if I'm a child.

Perhaps the most arresting thing about him, though, is his golden eyes. They're not brown, and they're not exactly amber. They're the most unique hue I've ever seen—in eyes anyway. They glimmer at me beneath his dark brows now as he frowns at me.

I think all the man knows how to do is glower and frown.

And order me around.

And treat me like I'm stupid for caring about the sanctity of animal life.

He curses, "I can't very well leave you here stranded."

"Don't worry about me," I retort back at him through our windows. "I'll be fine."

He runs a hand through his hair as he turns his head to glance out his sideview mirror before he suddenly slams his car into gear and shoots up in front of my truck, pulling his car into park off the side of the road in front of me.

I'm glued to the spot in shock as I watch the driver's side door open and see him step from the fancy vehicle with a long unfolding of limbs.

I gulp as he slams the door of his car shut and starts stalking over toward where I sit in my truck. My piece of crap truck that would choose today of all days to act up on me. I shouldn't have turned it off when I stopped to help the turtle cross the road. I should have just left it idling. I knew better. I knew that sometimes my ornery truck refused to start. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I suddenly realize the danger of my situation. I'm stranded on the side of the road with a total stranger. My dumb self forgot to grab my cell phone before I left the house, something that I do frequently. I never really worry about it, though, when I'm just going to see my gran. She's about a seven-minute drive from where I live with my parents.

I consider jumping out of my truck and running. Maybe that would be the sensible thing to do, but I'm too stubborn and have too much pride to run. If the devil is coming for me, I'll meet him head on, and I sure as hell won't go down without a fight.

I sit up straighter in my seat and glare at the man defiantly as he finally reaches my truck.

He leans into my truck with an arm on the top of the window, his golden eyes boring into mine, seeming to burn me with their heat at such close range.

My breath catches in my throat despite myself. Instead of feeling fear, though, as I probably should, I feel this keen sense of excitement.

He stares at me for a long moment. I feel his eyes scorching every inch of my skin as they travel over my face. The intensity in his gaze is unnerving, like he's trying to see deep inside me to my soul.

"I just want to make sure you get home okay." His eyes seem to soften, and he suddenly looks more approachable, less brooding.

I still don't trust him for a minute.

"You're not from around here, are you?" I don't know why I ask it. It's obvious he's an out-of-towner. Everybody knows everybody around here, so the fact that I've never seen the guy lets me know with absolute certainty that he's not from around here.

And I'd certainly remember if I'd ever seen anyone like him before. He looks like one of those guys you see on the movies or the covers of magazines. His clothes look perfectly tailored to him and probably cost more than my parent's monthly mortgage.

His gaze never falters from me, but his lips finally quirk up in the semblance of a smile. Or perhaps it's more of a smirk.

"Not yet," he says by way of answer.

I frown at him, tilting my head to the side as I consider his odd answer. His eyes are still holding mine, but I'm broken from the golden trance of them when I hear the whooshing of a vehicle coming around the corner.

I look up just as I see Jake's brand-new truck rounding the corner. I see the stranger's gaze following mine to the truck, and his frown deepens as it slows when Jake obviously notices my truck sitting on the side of the road.

I feel an odd mixture of relief and disappointment at the appearance of a friendly face who can help me. I don't really know where the disappointment is coming from because there's no way in hell I was ever going to get into a car with this man I don't even know. My childhood friend showing up couldn't have been better timing.

"Daisy!" Jake rolls down his window and yells at me with his boyish grin.

"Daisy," I hear the dark-haired man repeat my name thoughtfully as if he's trying it out for size. I feel his stare on me, but I ignore him and the heat that flushes my face as I call back to Jake, "Hey, Jake!"

"The old girl crap out on you again?" Jake asks me knowingly. Yeah, he's picked me up more than once when my truck wouldn't start.

"Yeah," I nod as I open the door of my truck. The stranger steps back just in time to avoid the swing of my truck door smacking him as I hop out.

I can feel him scowling again, but I continue to ignore him. I'm not purposefully trying to be rude, but Mr. Grouchy Pants has done nothing but stare and glower at me since I met him, and I'm already over it.

I run over to Jake's truck and hop into the passenger side. I see my sandy-haired friend looking at the dark-haired man curiously.

"Who's that?" he asks, making no move to hide his interest in the stranger.

I shrug, not even glancing back at whatever-his-name-is. I feel a pang when I realize I don't even know his name, but then I realize it's probably for the best. He's just someone passing through, and I'll surely never see him again.

"Just someone who stopped to see what was going on."

Jake frowns. "Good thing I showed up when I did then. You don't need to be taking rides from strangers, Daisy," he warns.

"I know," I agree with him. "I wasn't going to."

"I don't think he would have hurt me, though," I can't help adding.

Jake looks at me quizzically, but thankfully he doesn't say anything about my odd comment. Instead, he just nods to the dark-haired guy before he pulls away from the curb and starts off down the road.

I chance a glance in the sideview mirror back at the man still standing by my truck on the side of the road. His jaw is clenched, his eyes boring into us as we drive away, his hands fisted at his sides.

I feel a shiver run up my spine despite the summer heat.

It's definitely a good thing Jake came along when he did.