Larissa Ione - Rogue Rider

“Oh, hell, no. I saw you with the rifle.” He glanced over at her, and his voice went a notch deeper. “It was fucking hot. I love a badass female.”

She laughed. “I love being called a badass.” She regarded him with curiosity as he took a huge bite of eggs. “So why shouldn’t I be alone?”

“Because you’re a good person. You should share that with people who need someone like you in their lives.” He reached for his glass of juice. “Like me. Thank you again for everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Her pulse picked up at both the compliment… and from guilt. The road had been cleared this morning, and she was thinking about taking him to the sheriff’s station. Why she should feel guilty she had no idea. Maybe it was because a good person would keep him.

Keep him… as if he were a stray dog. Nice. If he were a stray dog, she would keep him. But he needed help she couldn’t provide.

And she couldn’t afford to get attached.

They ate in silence for a minute, which was all it took for him to finish off six pancakes, as many eggs, and half a pound of bacon. Finally, he came up for air.

“Can I use your computer?” he asked. “I want to see if I can find anything that might help me figure out who I am.”

Her pancake sat like a paperweight in her gut. “Actually, I’m taking you into town today. I’m hoping we can get some help at the sheriff’s station. First, you need some real clothes, so we’ll hit Bernard’s department store.”

“I promise to pay you back when I find out who I am.” He lounged back in the chair, looking sated. Content. But no less dangerous. Like a tiger that had just fed. “I must have money somewhere.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She stood. “Now, I’m going to take care of the animals, and we’ll go after that. Feel free to use the shower if you want.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she prepared herself for a suggestive reply. “I’ll help you with the chores tonight, though, okay?”

Well, shit. She’d have preferred one of his overtly sexual suggestions. She offered him a shaky smile, because she wasn’t sure he was coming back with her. He didn’t belong here, and there was a perfectly good shelter where he could stay in town while the police figured out who he was.

She took care of the critters at the barn and chicken coop, and by the time she’d gathered a dozen eggs to drop off at the Wilsons’ place down the road and got her truck warmed up, Reseph was ready. She wished she had shoes for him, but he didn’t seem to care. He merely hopped into the pickup’s passenger side and played with the radio, settling on a country music station as she drove the thirty miles into town.

“I don’t know why,” she said, “but I’d have taken you for a rock and roll guy.”

“Seems my brain is full of country lyrics. Not so much with the rock.” He tapped his fingers on his thighs to the beat of the music and studied the landscape as though he were mapping every tree, every fence post.

“You people know how to decorate,” Reseph said, when she turned the truck onto Main Street. “It’s like we’re at the North Pole.” He shifted around in the seat so he was lounging against the door, one leg up on the bench as if he had moved in and belonged right there next to her. Damn, but she could not be thinking that way. “You need Christmas decorations in your house. And a tree.”

She eased the vehicle around an icy corner. “Seems kind of pointless.”

“Don’t you like the holidays?”

“I love them. But when it’s just me and Doodle, there’s not much point in doing all the holiday stuff.” Stacey always invited her to her family’s place for Thanksgiving and Christmas, so it really did seem like a waste of time to decorate her own place. She pulled up to the department store and shut down the engine. “Why don’t you stay here while I run in and get some clothes for you?”

“Nah. I’m good.” Reseph climbed out of the truck. Didn’t matter that he was shoeless and in pajamas… he ignored the curious stares and walked inside with her. The man didn’t have an ounce of self-consciousness. But then, as big as he was, she doubted people messed with him much. And as hot as he was, she’d bet he could get anything he wanted from women.

As soon as they walked through the door, Tanya, one of Jillian’s old high school classmates, greeted them. Her gaze lingered long enough on Reseph to make Jillian clear her throat.

“Hi, Tanya. Obviously, we need the men’s department.”

Tanya pointed toward the back of the store. “You might want to hit the shoe department first. It’s against policy to allow bare feet in here.” She smiled at Reseph like she was picturing him with a lot less on than shoes. Ha . Tanya couldn’t even begin to imagine the truth of what Reseph looked like without clothes on. He was see-to-believe. “We’ll make an exception this time.”

Reseph grinned back, and Jillian did not like that. She grabbed his hand and led him to the shoe department, where he picked out a pair of black work boots. Which looked absolutely ridiculous with the too-short pajama bottoms. Still, he didn’t seem to notice at all.

Next, they hit the men’s department. “Well, what do you like?”

He looked around at the racks of clothes and shrugged. “Pick something out for me.”

“Dress you?”

He waggled his blond brows. “Or undress me.” Now there was the Reseph she was getting used to.

“I think we’d have an audience for that,” she said, glancing over at Tanya and two other employees who were not-so-covertly watching Reseph.

Leaning into her, so close his breath fanned over her cheek, he said in a low, silky voice, “That’s what dressing rooms are for.”

Oh, the images he’d just conjured in her head. She had to clear her throat before she could speak.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Not waiting for a response, she pulled two pairs of distressed jeans off a Big and Tall rack and shoved them into his hands. Next, she wandered through the shirts and settled on a black tee, a light blue thermal Henley, and a flannel charcoal button-down. “Let’s see how these fit.”

“All three?”

“You need more than one set of clothes.” When he opened his mouth, she shook her head. “Don’t argue. I don’t expect you to pay me back.”

He glared, but wisely, he sauntered into the dressing room without a fight. Maybe he was partly house-trained after all.

Tanya sidled up to Jillian the moment Reseph disappeared. “Who is that? Is he your boyfriend?”

“No, he’s just a…” A what? Friend? Acquaintance? Perfect stranger? “Guest.”

“Yeah?” Tanya’s eyes were glued to the dressing room door. “I’d love to have a guest like that.”

“Your divorce is final, huh?”

Tanya nodded. “Now if I can just get that rat bastard to pay child support, the drama would be over.”

Jillian wished Tanya luck with that. Her ex had kids with two other women he was supposed to be paying child support to, and apparently, that wasn’t happening, either. Men could be such scum, and that was something Jillian knew far too well. They never turned out to be who you thought they were. No doubt Tanya’s husband had seemed like a decent guy when she married him. Now he was a cheating bastard who fathered two children outside of their marriage.

“Oh. My. God.” Tanya’s breathy words brought Jillian’s attention back to a man who, as far as she knew, wasn’t a cheating bastard.

Reseph had emerged from the dressing room, and Jillian’s tongue rolled out like a welcome mat. The jeans she’d chosen fit like they’d been tailored for him, hugging his muscular thighs and bunching around his big boots. The Henley, perfectly matching his eyes, stretched across the broad expanse of his chest, emphasizing the hard-cut muscles and flat stomach. This was a man who made normal, everyday clothes into something special. He was a walking fashion ad… except that no other man would buy those clothes, because no one could wear them as well.