Page 5 of Hard to Hold


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My mouth parted, and I clutched the man’s shirt at my chest. His familiar blue eyes held me ensnared. His dark hair and olive skin created a beat of mystery. He was tall and sexy. I swallowed fighting back my skyrocketing heartbeat. I knew he’d be beautiful. I’d seen him before. I’d memorized every detail.

My gaze caressed his face, traveling down his neck to where an old cut had healed. I’d seen it happen in one of my premonitions from over a decade ago. I touched my neck in the same spot. “The tiger scratch healed.”

“Wait, how did you know?”

This wasn’t happening. I took a step back and held out my hand to stop him from asking any more questions I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. “You aren’t real.”

He tilted his head, watching me like a predator with his prey.

I glanced around the room. Guns hung around the house; a single lazy boy recliner sat in front of the television. The vast, unfurnished room seemed to indicate the guy had no friends.

“You can’t leave. You’re not dressed,” he called out and turned back to the coffee pot, pouring a cup and asking me the same question again. “How do you take your coffee?”

I stood frozen, unable to believe my eyes.

He glanced over his shoulder. “If you’d prefer something stronger, I have bourbon.”

I shook the haze from my thoughts. My mystery man was talking to me.

“I’ve been searching for you,” I said, taking a tentative step back into the kitchen.

His brows dipped. “Did you hit your head when you fell running from the bear?”

I shook my head, unsure how much to tell him.

“I was in the search party for the kid. I found him.”

“You didn’t have the kid.”

“The bear was going to attack. I led it away.”

The lumberjack paused as if debating if I were telling him the truth. Seconds ticked by before he asked again, “How do you take your coffee?”

“Preferably not poisoned,” I answered. I may have had premonitions about this man, but he was nothing like I’d imagined. “Uh. If you can just point me to a phone, I can call for someone to pick me up.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Uh, okay. Then any idea where mine is?” I asked.

“You had it in your back pocket. It fell into the tub when I was undressing you. Your entire backpack had to be hosed down.”

“Okay, then.” I nodded. “The walkie-talkie. You have that, right?”

“They already found the kid.”

“I heard while you were carrying me. Where’s the walkie-talkie? I can use it to get a ride.”

“No need,” he said, leading me back to the kitchen. “I’ll drive you back to the search and rescue command post, and you can tell me how you know my scar is from a tiger.”