Chapter One

Faith

When I was young, my grandma told me all kinds of stories. Most of them were made up tales of kings and queens from far away kingdoms. Every story had a theme, but there was always a quest. Sometimes, the quest involved giant fire-breathing dragons. Other times, the journey involved finding a flower that would cure the kingdom of its darkness. No matter the journey, the results remained the same. The king and queen found each other, fell in love, and lived happily ever after.

I’ve taken all kinds of advice from those stories over the years. For one, I shouldn’t trust talking animals. Turns out, they never have good news. Second, bravery and independence are virtues. But by far, the biggest lesson I learned from my grandma’s stories, was the power of love.

Love can make you do all kinds of things. Things you couldn’t imagine yourself doing otherwise. Love can make you overcome fears and make you braver than you thought possible, love can make you ruthless, and love can make you see things in a way you didn’t believe was possible beforehand.

I brush the remnants of a haircut into a dustpan and toss it into the trash. The salon is extra busy this time of day, and while I hate crowds and people in general, I love how I disappear in plain sight when a room fills up.

There’s no place like a salon. Blow-dryers flip on and off, and the snip of scissors perform a chorus with the music that plays on the speakers. Customers laugh and ramble on about life while phones ring and aerosol spray hisses. It’s the perfect place to blend in.

“Can you grab me a bottle of developer from the back?” My friend Carmen grazes past me and heads toward her chair.

Okay, I didn’t completely disappear.

I grab the developer from the back room, holding my breath as I walk past the girl doing a chemical dye. Having been around this for the past month, you’d think I’d be used to it, but I’m not. I still hate the smell of hair products.

“Here ya go. What time is your next client?”

Carmen sighs. “Oh, any minute now. You all moved into your new place? I can come over tonight and help you unpack.”

“There’s not much to unpack. I need to go shopping, though. We could do that after work.”

Carmen pulls out a curling iron and twists her hair into the heat. She’s a pretty girl. I’d guess her family is Italian by the way her skin glows with an olive undertone. Her hair is dark with natural highlights from the sun and her lips are perfectly pink without an ounce of makeup. “I’ll still never get how you’ve moved around with so little. You’re like… the ultimate nomad. Where’d you say you’re from again?”

This is the part where life gets tricky, remembering all my lies. I’m from Louisiana, born and raised off fried shrimp and okra. My accent hasn’t been hard to hide. I’ve been trying to shed that my whole life. I don’t know why, but I always wished I’d grown up with a New York accent. It sounds so much more badass than what the Lord gave me.

“Pennsylvania,” I finally say. I’m tempted to pull out my fake ID to make sure I got it right, but I decide otherwise. “What about you? Where are you from?”

We’ve worked together for the last month, and we’ve had some pretty serious conversations, but never this very basic one. That’s the difference between men and women. Women dig right into the serious stuff.

“Right here in Rugged Mountain. All day, every day.” She blows out a breath. “I think about leaving like twelve times an hour, though.”

I laugh. “Why? This place is gorgeous. Big mountains, rushing rivers, wide open spaces… what’s not to love?”

“It’s nice, but it’s small. I guess I thought… I don’t know… I thought life as an adult would be more… exciting. Look at your life. I mean, you moved all the way here. What made you do that? How did you get the guts?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. More lies on their way. I really should’ve thought about questions folks might ask before I started working and showing my face in public. “Oh, I don’t know. Just got up one morning, packed my bags, and… I left.” I guess that’s sort of the truth.

She spins another strand of hair around the curling iron. “I wish.”

“You’d miss your family. Trust me. I miss mine every day.” Finally, something that’s not a lie. It’s so hard to be away.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I am pretty close to everyone, especially my brother. If you’re missing everyone, why don’t you go back?”

I can’t go back. Not ever. “I don’t know.” I shrug. “Still on my adventure, I guess.”

She grins wide and pulls out a bottle of spray and spritzes her hair. This is a floral scented mist and I like it. “Maybe I don’t need to leave town. Maybe I’m just looking for an adventure. Like a real one, where I do crazy things and throw all caution to the wind.” Her eyes widen as she says, “Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

I remember that feeling, though the caution I’ve thrown to the wind is not the norm for me. Usually, I’m cautious to a fault.

The front bell on the door rings and I glance up quickly. It’s not my job to check clients in, but during the lunch hour, I take over for the receptionist. It’s not ideal given the fact that I want to disappear, but it’s only thirty minutes and usually it’s not such a big deal… until now. Now it’s a big deal!

The man walking through the door is a giant. I’d guess he’s over six and a half feet tall, thick build, covered in ink, and a long, salt and pepper beard. He wears a motorcycle cut and I know without any introduction exactly who he is.

“Outlaw!” Carmen walks toward him with a grin on her face. “I’m almost ready for you. Tilly here will check you in.”

I look around for who she might be talking about, then realize it’s me. I almost forget my name.

Tilly. I’m Tilly. It’s what my ID says. It’s what everyone here calls me. It’s how I’m supposed to be introducing myself. Tilly.

My stomach knots as I step toward the counter, trying not to make eye contact with the man. I’ve changed the color of my hair from blonde to brunette, I’m wearing colored contacts, and when I look in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself, but that doesn’t mean Outlaw won’t.

“Hi,” I squeak. Lord, he’s a handsome man. If he weren’t the bounty hunter in charge of dragging me in, I might ask him to slay a dragon with me.

“Hello. You’re new here.” His tone is dark and rough.

I shake my head. “Not really. I started a while ago.”

“Can’t be more than a month.”

I stare down at the computer, pretending to look for his name, though I see it quite clearly. “You’re perceptive.”

“It’s my job. I know everyone in this town. Are you new?”

“New? To Rugged Mountain?” God, he’s onto me. Any second now, he’s going to whip out handcuffs and haul me away. “Sort of. I’m from Pennsylvania.”

“What part? I have family there.”

I suck in a breath. I need flashcards for all the lies. “Oh, all over the state really, but ugh…” I cough, giving myself more time to think. “Lancaster.” Please don’t have family in Lancaster. I’m pretty sure my eyes are squeezed close, waiting for his response.

This is like unwiring a bomb. If I pull the wrong cord… boom! I’m done for.

“Oh. My cousin’s in Philly.” His dark eyes stay on mine for a beat too long and I wonder what he’s thinking.

Handcuffs? Ropes? Extension cord? If I’m being honest with myself, though, this whole thing sounds kinky. Maybe I’d be down for this dragging me in thing.

“You, ugh, you get that ink locally?” What am I saying?

“Yeah. Rugged Mountain Ink. The place is huge. Those guys are crazy talented. They’ve got folks comin’ in from all over to have work done by them. The staff there now is good, but I got a few of these when Henry and Maddox were full time. Having something from either of them is like having a valuable collectable at this point. You got any ink?”

Thankfully, no. Aside from having no disposable income, I’ve steered clear of distinguishing marks. I never understood why criminals have tattoos. It’s the one thing the cops can pick off you immediately. Not that I’d ever intended on being a criminal. Then again, maybe I did, and I was safeguarding myself all along.

That guy with the circus clown smoking a joint tattoo definitely broke into my house, officer. There’s no defense to that. No one would forget a circus clown smoking a joint. I don’t get it.

“Nope. Nothing. Not sure if I ever will.”

“You don’t like ink?”

“Oh, I do… on other people.”

He nods slowly as though he’s processing through something. Clearly, this guy is smart. I can feel it and that means I’m toast. This whole salon and everyone in it are going to know I robbed two banks across two states, and now I’m in hiding. I should’ve left. I knew there were bounty hunters in town. Why did I stay?

I huff out a sigh and glance down at the laptop again. “You’re all checked in, so…”

Outlaw nods and settles into the waiting room. He looks so out of place here, sitting in a little pink chair next to a cart of fancy coffees and hair magazines. I wonder why he doesn’t get a haircut elsewhere.

“Okay, big brother. I’m ready for you.” Carmen smiles widely as she waves the giant toward her.

I get it now. This isn’t good.

“Ya know,” her tone is light and playful as she whips the apron around his massive chest, “Tilly was just telling me how much she misses her family, and you… were just telling me how lonely you are.”

“I’m not lonely,” he groans. “I’m busy. I told you I’m busy.”

“Right.” She rolls her eyes. “Busy doing the most boring things. You two should go out tonight.”

“Really,” I interrupt, my stomach clenching, “I appreciate it. I mean, you seem like a nice guy, but…” I don’t want to be hauled off to jail.

“Not taking no for an answer.” Carmen punches her brother on the shoulder. “Your both alone and it’s Friday night. What’s one dinner?” She squishes up her face. “Please… it would make me so happy to know my big brother and my friend weren’t spending the night in solitude.” I feel an ulterior motive in her voice, but I can’t be sure. Maybe she knows I robbed two banks, and this is their way of working together to haul me in without a scene.

Outlaw spins the chair back until he’s facing me. His tone is so deep that my clit begins to throb with the bass in his voice as he says, “You know she’s not going to quit until we agree, and I am free for dinner tonight.”

“I appreciate it, but I—”

“Great! It’s all set then. You and Outlaw, dinner tonight. Let’s say… eight? Mullet’s bar has a great band playing and I’m pretty sure Friday is all you can eat chips and salsa.”

The fact that it’s a crowded, dimly lit place is better than the alternative, but my stomach is still knotted. This man might be big, sexy, and keep handcuffs in his pocket, but this is my worst nightmare.

The urge to run rattles up through me and I have to physically restrain myself from doing so. I grip hold of the edge of the counter and try to control my thoughts.

One story in particular keeps circling back. A story my grandma told not too long before she died. I was grown, but she still loved fairytales and I still loved listening to anything she wanted to tell me. This one in particular was about a vagrant outside the castle wall. The girl slipped into the palace desperate for a meal but instead of sneaking around and hiding, the girl dressed like a princess. She acted like she belonged.

Maybe that’s what I need to do—act like I belong.

I glance toward Outlaw, watching as bits of his hair fall to the ground with the shave. I can do this. It’s one night. One night of pretending to be a princess while I take on the quest of tricking the sexy bounty hunter.

I can do this!