“What? No.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure what happened. Maybe it was the margaritas.”

Matt stood and put some distance between them. He wasn’t buying her excuses. With a wide berth, he reached for her phone and handed it to her. “I need to show you one more thing.”

Once she unlocked her phone, she handed it back.

He swiped here, pressed in something there, and returned it to her. It was on a contact screen where Matt had typed in his number. “Any questions, call me. If anything is bothering you, call me. If you’re worried, scared, or if what just happened to you happens again and you need company . . . call me.”

“Matt . . . I—”

“Call me.”

Her throat felt thick.

“I’ll tell the others you’re tired.” He headed for the door. “Unless you’re up to—”

“I’d appreciate that,” she interrupted him.

He opened the door to leave.

“Thank you,” she said before he could walk away.

“Anytime.”

CHAPTER SIX

The memory of Erin’s face draining of color, her blue eyes losing focus, and the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped for air kept reoccurring in Matt’s head like a boomerang photo placed on social media to capture your attention. He replayed the entire time he was alone with her to figure out what had happened to bring on her reaction. It was the second time he’d seen her completely tune out. The first had been months before, when he’d raised his arm suddenly and she’d pulled back like a hand-shy dog waiting for a blow from its owner. Parker had been there and blamed Erin’s reaction on low blood sugar . . . but Matt wasn’t fooled. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that Erin had some serious baggage from her past. A past she wasn’t open about.

At first he thought she was just shy, an introvert that would just as soon be alone than with others. Only she wasn’t at a loss for words in a group of people. She joined the conversation, asked questions. And if he thought long and hard about it, she was great at skirting any personal questions and changing the subject. Since most of the times he was around her, Parker was there as well . . . and women stuck together. Parker did her fair share of steering the conversation away from Erin’s history.

Someone had hurt her. And since she didn’t talk about a family, Matt wasn’t sure if it was a parent, relative, or past boyfriend. Hand shy was hand shy, and one didn’t get that way without repeated hits. Hits one couldn’t avoid or escape from easily.

It pissed him off.

Matt had seen his share of the seedy side of humanity as a firefighter. The number of medical calls he assisted on over the years and the homes and other people’s lives he’d walked into woke him up early to the fact that some people sucked. They abused children, women, and the elderly. And abuse came in many forms, from the physical to neglect. It gutted him to see a hurt child, and to know it was done intentionally spiked a “get even” bone he had to work hard to push down.

He was a protector. Had been since he was ten.

Matt wanted nothing more than to protect Erin. Although he felt like her immediate danger was only in her head, he still had the desire to fight her demons.

He ran the paces on his home treadmill until he racked up five miles. Then he jumped off and laid waste to the punching bag hanging from his ceiling.

The desire to push his body to the limit, and erase the image of Erin damn near doing a face-plant, fueled him.

With his workout and shower behind him, he headed into his garage and turned on his sound system. Before long, he was elbow deep in repairing the engine on his dad’s lawn mower that he’d promised to get to. He’d put it off for a couple of days, but was going into a busy workweek that wouldn’t give him any downtime at home. So with a country station playing some of his favorite tracks in the space, Matt enjoyed the occasional breeze that drifted in from the open garage door. Neighbors would drive by, a few would yell out his name and wave, and some of the kids would ride their bikes up and down the street. He liked his neighborhood and his single-story home. It was only him, and since his brother’s place was bigger, family dinners that weren’t at his parents’ home were always at Colin’s. Only now Matt was pretty sure that would be moved over to Parker’s. It was hard to compete with all that property, complete with a pool and a yard you could host your own Woodstock in.

He was singing the lyrics to a man getting drunk on a plane after being jilted on his wedding day when he heard his name being called.

He looked up to a completely unexpected visitor. “Erin?”

“Hi.” She wore capri pants and a short-sleeved shirt that danced as the wind blew against it. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, and the large-rimmed sunglasses she often wore hid her eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by.”

Mind? Hell no. “Of course not. Anytime.” He picked up a shop towel and wiped the grease and oil from his hands. “Come in.”

She stepped out of the glaring sun in his driveway and into the shade of the garage. It was then he noticed the dish in her hands. She held it with one hand and removed her sunglasses with the other. “Parker told me where you lived. I wanted to bring these by.”

Matt tossed the towel to the side and reached for her offering.

“My way of saying thank you for all your help yesterday.”

He looked down. “Brownies?”

“Hard to go wrong with chocolate.”

“My favorite.”

She smiled. “I like to bake, even in the heat.”

He set the dish aside and turned down the volume on the speaker. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to.” Her eyes drifted around his garage and landed on a calendar above his workbench. A swimsuit edition kind that defined his man space. He suddenly felt odd for having half-naked women wearing tiny straps of material that passed as swimwear displayed on his wall.

“Come inside. Milk will go perfect with these.”

“No, that’s okay—”

“I insist.” Now that he had her in his space, he wanted to keep her there. And not in the garage where she stuck out like a fish on shore.

“Only for a minute. I don’t want to interrupt.”

He ignored her words and led her inside. Years of working in the fire department equated to him always keeping his space tidy. Leaving a mess for anyone at the station wasn’t tolerated. There were times they would be called out and leave on the fly, but once they were back, picking up the place was top priority. Only in the thick of a fire were messes left. He was thankful for his clean habits now when he was showing a woman he wanted to impress his home.

His kitchen was small, but more than enough space for him. Matt pulled out a chair at the dinette set for four and offered Erin a seat. “Milk? Or I can make some coffee.”

“Milk would be fine.”

Matt washed his hands in the sink before pulling down two glasses and small plates for their brownies.

“Have you lived here long?” Erin asked.

“About five years. I wanted a place that had enough room for RV parking. Do you camp?”

She shook her head. “I’m fond of running water.”