My heart skipped a beat.

“No. No sheriff,” I said a little too quickly. A deputy might ask for ID, and while I’d been assured my new identity was solid, I wasn’t ready to test it quite yet.

Some of the warmth faded from his eyes, but he nodded. “Okay. That option’s off the table. Do you need a minute to consider the others?”

“No,” I said, feeling nauseated at the amount of money I was about to hemorrhage, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. “Just tow it to your garage.”

“I’ll do my best to keep the cost of the repairs as low as possible.”

Call me stupid, but I believed him.

Chapter Two

He gestured toward the car. “It’s going to take me a few minutes to get it loaded. If you have anything you need to get out, you’d best do it now.”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, my nervousness returning. “I have a suitcase in the trunk.”

He grabbed the keys out of the ignition, then walked around and opened the trunk, barely exerting himself to heave out my suitcase.

I’d lifted that bag. I knew how heavy it was, which meant his jacket was covering up some impressive biceps.

I shivered, partially from cold but also from the realization that this man could easily overpower me. I held my purse tighter. I had a gun, but could I bring myself to use it? It was one thing to shoot cans off fence posts, and a whole other thing to shoot a man. If I needed to pull it out, I hoped the threat would be enough to get my point across.

He must have seen something on my face—again—because he cast me a wary look as he walked to the truck, holding the nearly fifty-pound bag as though it were a roll of toilet paper.

Yep. He definitely worked out.

“It’s a good thing we’re getting you out of here now,” he said, glancing up at the sky before lowering his gaze to mine. “They’re saying it might snow.”

“Snow?” I hadn’t paid any attention to the weather. Smart, Carly. Way to drive into the mountains with the possibility of snow, though to be fair, if my car hadn’t broken down, I suspected I wouldn’t be in the mountains anymore.

“Yep.” He opened the passenger door of the truck and tossed the bag into the cab, easily maneuvering it into the space behind the seat. When he stepped down, he held the door open. “Why don’t you wait in the truck while I get this hooked up?”

I glanced inside, surprised by its tidiness. Based on the peeling paint and extensive rust spots, the truck had to be a couple of decades old, so I’d expected the interior to be in similar condition. While the black vinyl seat was ripped in multiple places, for the most part it was clean.

“Uh…” I said, glancing up at him. “I’m about to get into your truck, and I don’t even know who you are.”

“Wyatt Drummond, owner of Drummond Auto Repair and Towing.” To my surprise, he held out his hand to shake.

His callused hand was grease-stained, but it looked clean. I shook it, surprised it felt so warm wrapped around my cold one. I wasn’t prepared for the shiver that ran through my body at his touch, but I tried to convince myself it was because of the frigid temperature.

“Carly Moore,” I said, proud that I’d remembered my new last name. I’d spent a week and a half practicing in front of a mirror while I waited for my documents to come through in Little Rock. I’d had little else to do, given I’d left my new friends behind in Henryetta.

His handshake was firm, but he quickly released it. “Now that you know who I am, get inside and I’ll start the truck so you can warm up.”

Without waiting to see if I’d listen, he walked around the front of the truck and climbed behind the wheel to start the engine.

I almost insisted I’d wait outside, but the wind had picked up, delivering a cold bite that stung my cheeks. I’d already agreed to let him tow my car into town. No sense being stubborn for the sake of it.

The cab heated up quickly, so I reached over and turned the heat down. A few minutes later, Wyatt climbed back inside and backed the truck up to the front of my car. Somehow he’d managed to back my car out of its space and get it angled correctly. It didn’t take him long to get the car hooked up and hoisted onto the winch.

By the time he returned to the cab, the sky was turning a light pink with the approaching sunset. He didn’t say anything, and for some reason I felt compelled to fill the silence.

“It gets dark early out here,” I said as he pulled onto the road. Since the dashboard was old and didn’t have a digital display, I took out my phone to check the time. It was nearly five. How long had I been out here?

“The mountains to the west make sundown come earlier, and the time change this weekend didn’t help,” Wyatt said, shifting gears.

“Where exactly are we going?” I said. “I just realized I never asked.”

“Drum,” he said. “It’s about ten miles down the mountain. I figure I’ll drop you off at the tavern and then haul your car to the shop. My brother Max owns the place and runs the motel across the street. He’ll rent you a room for the night.”

My guard hiked back up. Was this some kind of scam? Tow unsuspecting tourists into town for a small fee, then charge them inflated prices for motel rooms? I knew I was being paranoid, but I was on the run and had an alias. Was there such a thing as being too paranoid in this kind of situation?

I hugged my purse tighter to my side. “Should I call ahead and reserve a room?”

“Nah,” he said, keeping his eyes on the curvy mountain road, downshifting to accommodate the grade. “You’ll be fine.”

“There’s not much traffic,” I said, realizing I hadn’t seen another car for nearly an hour. “I figured there’d be more people driving the roads to see the changing leaves. Isn’t the Smoky Mountains known for that?”

“There used to be more people in these parts about five years ago,” Wyatt said. “But things changed when the state park system moved the entrance to the hiking trail up to Balder Mountain. This road used to take hikers to the entrance, so Drum sees a whole lot less traffic now. It was a tourist town until the move. Then business dried up, which is why I’m certain Max will have a room available.”

“Oh,” I said, “I’m sorry.”

He gave her a wry grin. “Probably for the best.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“What were you doin’ out this way?” he said. “If you don’t mind me asking?” It was an innocent-enough question, but the friendly tone he’d had at first seemed to have dried up. Just like the look in his eyes had changed when I’d refused his suggestion to call in a deputy.

“I guess the same as most people,” I said. “Taking in the scenery.”

He shot a pointed gaze at my purse, as if he had laser vision that allowed him to see the gun, then shifted his attention back to the road. “Not everyone.”

“Then what do you think I was doing out there?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Who knows what people do?” he said, shooting me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was just curious.”