Page 45 of Hollow Forest

Ivry came to pick me up. My coworker took one look at me and let out a long whistle.

“Damn, girl! You got some.”

I blushed hard. “How could you possibly know that?”

She pointed at my cheeks. “The red spots confirm the obvious, but you are glowing.”

I muttered something and drew the belt across my body to buckle it.

“So….” She careened around the dirt drive. Gravel sprayed from her tires as she floored the car toward the county road. “Who is he?”

A masked man who’s been watching me since I arrived. It was tempting to admit it, but something about my monster made me want to keep him a secret. “One of a kind.”

With a delighted chuckle, she began a pointed interrogation. The questions fired rapidly as we sped into town. Ivry thought it was a game. That I was holding out on her. But the truth was glaringly obvious.

I didn’t know much about my stalker.

That fact didn’t bother me as much as it should have. I knew the important things. He would never hurt me. He was completely obsessed with me. I was his priority, and he took really good care of me. Even the twisted game of no touching had been about my control. At any point, I could have told the masked man to stop. He would have. I knew it.

But I hadn’t wanted to use a safe word. I didn’t need to push him away.

I gave into the pull between us, and now I knew what I was giving up.

Growing up as the older sibling who’d shielded her sister from our parents’ abusive relationship, I was fiercely independent. That meant my relationships didn’t last long, because no man could deal with a girl who was used to taking care of herself. And then I lost the only person who mattered.

My heart panged. Agony swept through my veins. Dezzy would be avenged, I’d sworn it over her casket as it was lowered into a grave beside our mother’s. But fulfilling that promise meant losing the one person who completely and wholly understood me.

I couldn’t win.

Work was a beautiful distraction. I was blessed to be so busy that the hours ticked by at a rapid pace. When a crew of construction workers came into the café early in the afternoon, I leaned against the back counter, ready to start making their drinks.

Joey, wearing a brown plaid flannel, stepped around the others and leaned over the bakery case. “Hi, Samantha.”

A shiver rattled down my spine. Those eyes were dark. Nearly black. His unsmiling mouth looked just right, but I was certain he wasn’t my stalker.

“Cappuccino?” I asked conspiratorially.

He nodded solemnly.

“You know, you can order something else to save face with your buddies,” I offered quietly, crossing the space to keep the conversation between us. “I won’t tell.”

Could he be? Heavens, that body was the right shape. Tall with rigid muscles. Maybe if I asked him to take off the flannel, I would see the telltale sleeves of ink.

Why else would there be butterflies in my stomach? It was the intense way he watched me coupled with the gravelly rasp of his voice.

“Make me whatever you want, Sam.”

I wasn’t the kind of girl to play the field. The achy need between my legs was for my monster alone. But there was an obsessive compulsion to put a face to the man who kept breaking into my house and shattering my soul.

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t offer,” I teased.

I was about to turn around and begin the drink, when his question stopped me.

“What are you doing after work?”

If he wasn’t my stalker, I didn’t want to lead the poor guy on with false hope. Taking a deep breath, I murmured, “Just going home.”

“Would you want to go with me to the shooting range?” Those dark eyes sparkled. Heavens, they were so close to a midnight shade, it was hard to tell!