Chapter One

Daisy

A heavy knock on the door echoes through my cabin.

I lean up from the sofa and stare toward the noise. It's nearly eight p.m. No one knocks after six around here. It's poor form. Folks are either eating supper or going to bed. So, I'm not sure why Country insists on continuing this charade.

I swing open the door. "For the eight hundredth time, he's not here." My tone is biting and wildly sarcastic.

The giant man standing on my porch turns down his gaze. I'm terrible at all things numbers so I don't know the exact dimensions of him, but he's huge. I'd guess somewhere around six foot six and maybe three hundred pounds. I wonder if my rotting porch can take the weight of his frame.

I really need to upgrade this place, but it's not in the cards right now.

Wood creaks as he leans his massive, inked up arm against the door frame, invading my personal space. "You're lying."

"Oh yeah?" I scoff. "I don't think you understand how much I hate my ex. I'd tell you if he were here."

The man's eyes scan away from me and into the cabin. "You've got two coffee mugs out. Why's that?"

"One was for tea, and the other for hot chocolate. Way to call a girl out."

"You're full of it," he groans. "No one has tea and hot chocolate in one day."

"Really? This is the hill you're dying on? Did you learn these investigation tactics in some kindergarten version of bounty hunting school or is this a Country original?"

"I hear in town you're a sweet little thing, but you gotta mouth on ya." I'm not sure why this statement has my pussy pulsing, but it does. Maybe it's his southern accent.

He rolls his eyes and leans back away from the doorframe. "Let me come in. I'll ask you a few questions and I'll leave you alone."

I can't help but laugh. This bounty hunter has been here every day this week. Before that, he found me at my friend's cabin, where I was hiding out. So much for that. Apparently, he thinks I hold the key to whatever it is he's looking for. "I'm not letting you in my house."

"Because you're hiding something."

My eyes roll and I let out a sigh. "I'm not hiding anything. I just know my rights."

"You're right," he groans. "You have rights. You don't have to answer my questions or let me in, but you"re lookin' for me to go away. I reckon you could make that happen right now."

"Bullshit. I'll talk to you today, but you'll still be back tomorrow."

He strokes his big hand down over his salt and pepper beard and looks down, smiling. He's probably frustrated. That said, whatever's causing that grin, it doesn't matter. It's still super-hot. When his gaze lifts, my heart flutters.

Why is it doing that? I don't like this man.I actually feel the opposite of interest. I loathe him. It's definitely not because he's here hunting my ex. My ex is an asshole, and he deserves whatever he has coming. This country bastard just can't take a hint.

The man's biceps flex as he leans in against the door frame again. "Look, you're annoyed with me. I get it. Talk to me for twenty minutes and I'll leave you alone." He holds his big hand in the air as though to call a truce, but all I see are his calluses. "Swear to heaven."

I don't know what it is about a man in flannel with an MC cut on that does it for me, but apparently, this is the uniform my body has been longing an eternity for. My clit has never gone off on a tangent like this, but she's calling to me. She wants me to undress this country boy and let him do whatever investigation he deems necessary.

I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly, knowing full well that I'm about to make a mistake. "Fifteen minutes and you leave your gun on the porch."

"Eighteen minutes and my gun comes with me."

I laugh. "You're not coming into my house with a gun. No negotiations. Take it or leave it." I tuck behind the door and close it, but the man pushes back and settles his boot in the frame.

His feet are big. What do people say about big feet again?

"Eighteen minutes and I'll leave my gun with you. I'm not leaving it on the porch. Who the fuck knows who's out here?"

"It's the woods. There are miles of vacant forestland surrounding us. No one is out here."

He rolls his eyes and holds out his forty-five for me to take. "You'd be surprised."

Right now is one of those moments where I have a choice. I could push the man back and leave him outdoors where he belongs, or I could take this gun into my hand and answer whatever questions he has, hoping he's as excited for the possibilities as I am. You know, the possibility where he's desperate for a woman in a robe, and a long t-shirt with a hot chocolate stain in the center of it.

I take the cold steel in my hand and back away from the door, allowing the giant inside.

The gun is heavier than I thought. I've never really held one before, though I've been around them all my life. Everyone in town has one, but they make me uneasy. I set it on the counter to rid myself of the pressure.

The man steps inside and closes the cabin door, immediately dwarfing everything around him. Outside, he's huge. Inside, he's a goliath in a dollhouse. The table looks tiny, the doorway looks smaller, and my furniture may as well be for forest elves.

"Well, didn't think you'd actually let me in. You shouldn't let strangers in your house, darlin'."

My clit throbs again. I never realized I liked being called ‘Darlin'. Turns out, I do. I like it a lot. I can't show it though. Showing it would mean I approve of his ridiculous behavior, which I don't.

"Darlin'? I'm not your darlin'."

"It's just a word." He lowers himself onto the armchair in the living room carefully, as though he knows how big he is, and he wonders if the chair can hold his weight. The chair creaks as he sits. "How long have you known Mike?"

I pour another cup of tea and bring one for the country boy. "Five years. We met in high school, started dating, and kept it up all through college."

"So, he went to college with you?"

"Oh no. I went to college, and he did… stuff."

"You were dating, but you don't know what he was doing while you were away?"

I hand the man called Country a cup of tea. His hand swallows up the mug, and another twinge vibrates against my clit. Clearly, I have a problem. "Well, he told me he was working at his grandpa's repair shop. Not the big one off Main Street, but a little homespun shop in the mountains. His grandpa used to do repairs on motorcycles, and he rebuilt engines. That's what Mike told me. I don't know if it's really true."

"When was the last time you had contact with Mike?"

I shake my head and sit on the couch opposite of Country. He's not showing signs of seducing me, which is making this whole experience a lot less interesting. I blow out a frustrated breath as I say, "I don't know. Maybe a few weeks ago."

"Three weeks? Four weeks? What's a few?" He sets his mug on the table and leans in.

"Coaster," I insist as his drink hits the wood. Why did I say that?Who wants to seduce the coaster police?

His eyes roll and he moves the cup to the lace doily I made last weekend when I was sitting alone, questioning all my life decisions. "Is that when you broke up?"

I shake my head and look down at the floor, studying the spirals on the plank. "No. We broke up months ago."

"Why was he here then?"

"He's been… I don't know. It's complicated. I thought you were going to ask me questions about him. Like, his habits, what he likes to eat, how he thinks."

"I'll get to that, but first I need to get an idea of how far away he could be."

My brows raise. "Not far. Like I said, saw him three weeks ago." I steady my breathing as my stomach shakes. It was dumb of me to think this big, rough, bad boy would be into me, and even dumber of me to let him in. Apparently, I'm that kind of desperate.

"Why does he continue to come back if you broke up months ago?"

I glance up at Country. He's a brute so I'm not sure he would understand anything I told him about emotions.

"Life is complicated," I say, sipping on my tea. "I tend to trust the wrong people. It's a terrible habit."

"So, when did you find out about the illegal gun sales?"

I laugh under my breath. "When you told me."

"Did you confront him?"

"I don't see how this is relevant." I look back at the clock. "You have three more minutes. Make them count."

"It's relevant because your reaction would drive his next move. By the sounds of it, he's makin' emotional decisions."

I grin. "That man is not emotional. Trust me, he's a jerk."

"A jerk who's driven by emotion."

My eyes roll to the side. This man is a lot of things, but he's got Mike pegged all wrong. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, you said he's been back here since y'all broke up. Clearly, he's still feelin' something for ya. Emotional. If he were usin' his brain, he'd run as far as he could. He has to know there are hunters after him by now."

My stomach tightens and my chest burns. I stand from the sofa and pace back toward the kitchen. "Time's up."

I've made it nearly to the counter when I misstep and trip, falling flat on my ass. I'm not hurt, but humiliation keeps me down for a long second. What the hell did I even trip on? There's like nothing on the floor.

Country makes his way toward me in two long strides. His rough hands land on my forearms as he helps me up. "You oka—" He stops speaking in the middle of his sentence and his gaze drops to my arm where the robe I've been wearing has fallen.

I already know what he sees, and I'm sick with embarrassment.

I glance up at the giant, unsure of what to say. It's clear what this mark is. Last I checked, there were still fingerprints attached.

"Who did this?" His tone is nearly a growl.

I pull my robe up, hiding the bruise, but he pulls it away and studies my body, counting all the marks that cover my shoulders, my arms, and my back. I flinch away. "Get out!"

"No!" he growls. "Who did this?"

"Who do you think?" I bite.

"When?"

"Three weeks ago." I lower my head and embarrassment washes over me. I hate that I ever trusted Mike. Hate it. I mean, I lived with this for years. I let him get away with it. I believed that I was in the wrong, that I deserved whatever he gave me. The weird thing is, at the end of the day, it's not the physical stuff that bothers me. It's the part where I let a man tell me he loved me, while he hurt me. I let that be my story.

Country tips his finger under my jaw and lifts my gaze to his. "This isn't the first time this has happened, is it?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine. We said eighteen minutes. Here's your gun. Have a good night."

"I'm not leaving." His tone is rough as he speaks. And though I'm sure he only feels sorry for me, I like that he wants to stay. That said, I push him away anyhow. Maybe I want to know how badly he wants to stay. Or maybe I know deep down that spending the night with an armed stranger isn't a good idea.

"You are leaving. That was the deal. You came in, you got information, and now you leave."

"That was before this guy was a threat to you. Now I can't leave. You'd be in danger."

I laugh and open the door, letting in the summer breeze and the wild scent of honeysuckle. "I'm not in danger."

"I either sit here or in the driveway. You choose."

I've never had the protection of a man before. I dated Mike right out of high school and the closest he ever got to protecting me came on the heels of jealousy, which always ended with me being blamed for something random. I think this made him feel better about his outbursts. If he had me to blame, he didn't have to work on himself.

That said, Country's motives might not be pure either. He stands to gain money on this bounty, so I doubt his protection is really about me.

"How much is he worth?" I glance up at the massive man towering over me. He smells good, like a pine forest that's been rolled in leather.

"I don't care how much he's worth anymore. The bounty is that I bring him in alive, but he doesn't deserve alive."

Warmth washes over me, but I roll my eyes in spite of that. The last thing I need is to get sucked into thinking some random man cares when he doesn't. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doin' what?" His jaw locks and his big arms cross over his chest.

"This… acting all macho and caring. It's been three weeks since he touched me. I've been through this dozens of times. I'm fine."

Country steps forward until there's barely a strand of hair between us. I can feel the heat emanating off of him, surrounding me. It feels good and all I want right now is for this man to lift me up and teach me dirty things.

"Listen, this man is dangerous. He has access to who knows how many guns and he's shown a desire to harm you. What makes you think he wouldn't get angry and do more next time?"

I don't know why he has to be so close to say things like that.

"I have locks on the doors and the windows. I'll be fine."

"None of those things stop bullets. Forgive me if I'm cautious with your life, but… you're out here in the middle of nowhere. If this asshole comes back, he could get away with whatever he wanted to. Hell, he already has." He nods toward my arms. "I'm staying here tonight, and we can reassess tomorrow." Country kicks off his boots and tucks his gun into his jeans before heading for my couch.

The springs creak and moan under his weight. And though I don't want a stranger spending the night in my house, I do feel safer with him here. That, or my hormones have clouded my sense of reality and I'm currently being hypnotized by the fantasy of massive dick.

Honestly, I'm not ruling anything out at this point.