Unable to keep on staring at herself, Temperance whipped her head away and dashed out to the small bedroom. She grabbed her robe from the hook on her closet and put it on, then used the towel to dry her thick, dark hair. She kept her locks long as it was easy to style it to hide the right side of her face and neck, while long-sleeved shirts hid the rest.
Satisfied that her hair was dry enough, she meandered out to the combination living–kitchen room and put the tea kettle on. The single wide trailer was small, but she kept it clean and added a few pieces of decor to make it more homey, like the large Monstera plant in the corner, a lamp and reading chair, plus new throw pillows on the worn couch. It wasn’t luxurious, but she loved it—loved being free, loved the independence of being able to do anything she wanted, whenever she wanted.
The kettle whistled, so she dropped a teabag into a mug and poured the hot water into it. After allowing it to cool for a minute, she grabbed the mug and then settled into her reading chair. Truly, she loved her life now; the last three months living in Blackstone had been an improvement over the last twenty-five years of her life. She was so thankful to get out of her last situation and that her boss at the bakery she worked for back in Chicago understood why she had to leave. They’d even referred her to a friend who ran a pie shop who was looking for help.
That’s how she found herself in Colorado. Blackstone was a nice town, not that she had any time to see it. Her hours were from five in the morning to one in the afternoon. After that, she went straight home and read or watched TV, then fell asleep after dinner so she could do it all over again the next day. Her life had a routine; it was boring, but at least it was her life.
A knock on the door shook her out of her thoughts. Who could that be? Probably those people from that church again. When they came last week, she’d been too polite to tell them to leave her alone, so she accepted the book they offered and nodded when they said they’d be back. The book still lay on her kitchen table, untouched.
The knocking became insistent, so with a deep sigh, she got up, grabbed the book, and walked over to the door, yanking it open. “Look,” she began, shoving the leather-bound tome forward. “You can take this—” Her heart stopped as she looked up into sky-blue eyes.
How long she stood there—mouth hanging open, saying nothing, book slammed up against his chest—she wasn’t sure. But it felt like an awfully awkward, awfully long time.
He flashed her a smile that made him look even more handsome.
Oh my God, he has dimples, she groaned to herself, because of course he did. When the good Lord showered the world with all the good-looking genes, his parents must have gone outside with buckets in their hands.
“Uh, hi,” he said. “Nice …” He glanced around, his gaze immediately dropping to the statue guarding the front door of her trailer. “Nice gnome.”
Chapter Three
Gabriel wanted to smack himself in the head. Nice gnome? Smooth, Russel. Real smooth.
But he didn’t know what to do or say because how were you supposed to talk to your mate?
Shock was an understatement to describe how he’d felt at that moment when his lion recognized her as his mate. It roared at him to claim her. Even as she backed away from him, it only excited that raw, primal part of him.
But then he sensed real fear in her—and that just wouldn’t do.
He needed her, to see her, know her. Why was she afraid of them? Why did she hide behind her dark mane of hair? His lion couldn’t understand it.
When she turned her face to him, he was immediately struck by her clear hazel eyes. Light green with flecks of gold. He could stare at them all day, watch the light play in them. Wondered how they would look when she was happy. Or filled with desire while she was pinned under him.
Then he realized why she was turning away—those webs of scars on her cheeks. Burn scars likely, and he was suddenly filled with sadness because his mate must have endured so much pain. He could only imagine what it was like, and all he wanted to do was reach out and hold her and tell her it was all going to be okay. Wanted to shield her from anything else in the world that could hurt her.
But then she ran away. From him.
Why? His lion roared with fury and confusion.
And frankly, he couldn’t figure it out either. Nor could he figure out what to say to her, so he decided to just continue with the absurdity that was slowly becoming his life. “Um, so, your gnome …”
“Huh?”
He cocked his head at the garden gnome next to the door.
“You mean, Fred?” she asked.
“Fred? That’s his name?” he asked incredulously.
“Is there a problem with Fred?”
“No—I mean, I was thinking he would have some kind of whimsical name. Like … Mr. Peablossom or some shit like that.”
“I’ve never really thought of it.” She crinkled her nose. “He just seemed like a Fred.”
“Have you always had Fred with you?”
“Kinda. I, uh, took him from my last house in Chicago, and he came here with me.”
“So, you’re from Chicago, huh?” he asked. “I’ve never been, but I heard they have good pizzas.”
“Wait a minute … How did you find me?”
There
