“Hey!” I launch myself from my front verandah, attempting to shield my face from the stinging rain with a hand. “Hey!”
“Archie!” she yells, ignoring me. Whoever she is, she’s steady on her feet. Scared, yes—terror laces her shout—but agile. She’s not stumbling or staggering about in the lashing weather. “Archie! Come!”
I catch up to her at the edge of my yard, where my property becomes dense scrub, trees, and vegetation. “Hey?” I grab her elbow. God, her skin is so cold. She’s shivering. How long?—
She yelps, spins around, whacks my chest with a balled fist, and yelps again, eyes wide as she stares up at me, shaking her hand. The top of her head barely reaches my chin. “What are you made of? Brick?”
I blink.
And then she turns and heads for the bush again. “My aunt’s dog is scared of the storm,” she yells over her shoulder. “He got out of the house, and I need to find?—”
Lightning strikes the ancient gum tree towering over all the others to the left of my house. Exactly the direction she is facing.
Splintering wood flings out from the struck trunk. Sparks arc through the air.
The woman squeals, throwing up her arm, and I grab her, pulling her into my body. Protecting her.
At least, trying to.
She bucks and shoves free, glaring up at me. “Let me go, you idiot,” she shouts. The night almost hides her face, but fierce fury,notfear, burns in her eyes. And, oh shit, my body isalreadyaching for hers. God, she felt so right in my arms, pressed against my body. She waves an arm at the bush and smoldering tree. “I’ve got to find my aunt’s?—”
A large black shape streaks out of the bush and launches itself at the woman’s back and slams into her.
She falls into me, her face mashing into my chest, her hands grabbing at my biceps.
Archie propels off her, a barking black missile of chaos, and before I can think, I fling the woman to the side by one arm and grab Archie’s collar—one of those thick, studded leather types—with my other hand.
“Gotcha,” I burst out as his weight almost wrenches my shoulder out of its joint.
Lightning illuminates the relief flooding the young woman’s face, and then we’re plunged back into darkness. She scrambles past me, reaching for Archie. She scoops him up and hugs him to her amazing breasts, kissing the top of his head.
In an unsettling second of sheer clarity, I realize I’ve never been more jealous of a dog.
Ever.
Chapter Four
Iris
Stranger danger was drilled into me growing up. My mum—God love her—tried to be a helicopter parent before helicopter parenting was a thing. She’d freak out now if she knew I was inside a strange man’s home, dripping wet and miles away from the rest of the world.
At least Archie’s here to protect me. Ish. He’s curled up in a shivering ball on my feet, covered by a blanket the strange man—whose name I still don’t know—gave me after I finished drying Archie off with a towel.
Shifting on a wooden dining chair, I grimace as my shorts and underpants squelch. I am so wet. And not in the exciting way. Although, if I’m being honest, based on the fleeting glances I’ve allowed myself of the man who came to my aid, being wet in the exciting way is entirely possible.
He looks like he could be Chris Hemsworth’s body double, just with darker hair and stubble I bet would feel like sinful heaven scraping against my inner?—
Oh my God. Stop it, Iris. He has to be at least fifteen years older than you, and no way is someone that hot not already attached.
A drip of water trickles down the bridge of my nose, tickling my nostril, and I scrub it away with the back of my hand. I’m shivering. After drying Archie, I attempted to dry myself with the other towel my stranger gave me, but my clothes are still sodden. And my feet ache. I took off after Archie so quickly I didn’t stop to think that running through the bush in cheap-arse slides wasn’t ideal.
I need to get back to Aunt Lily’s place and get out of my wet clothes. Maybe have a hot bath. Maybe allow myself a little self-love as I picture my stranger.
My stranger? My?
“Here,” his deep, slightly husky voice rumbles above my head, and maybe Iamwet for the exciting reason. That voice… Heart thumping in my ears, I look up.
He’s standing before me, a steaming mug in his hand.
