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the same in his case as well.
    Becky tried to smile at the gorgeous man in front of her. She furiously blushed, knowing she looked like crap. Why couldn’t she meet someone like him when she was all dressed up and looking her best? Figured. “Hi, of course, just resting for a bit. It’s a long hike.” She mentally smacked herself in the head. She was such a dork. Just resting for a bit? Jesus, she sounded stupid even to her own ears.
    She wasn’t quite sure how to go about asking for help, as she didn’t have to do it very often but she didn’t have a choice.
    “Have you seen a woman and two—no…three men back that way?” she asked, gesturing toward the direction the parking lot was in.
    Dean shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen anyone and my truck is the only vehicle in the lot.”
    Becky sighed. She figured they would’ve left, but it still hurt to hear her suspicions were correct. She really was nobody important on the stupid show. She tried not to let it depress her any more than she already was. After all, she knew it by the way everyone acted around her, but she couldn’t help it when her shoulders sagged. Shit. Could this day get any worse?
    “Can I help?” Dean asked quietly. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to pick her up, hold her close and never let her go. To tell her nothing would ever hurt her again, that he wouldn’t allow it. But he knew he couldn’t do it. He was a stranger. She didn’t recognize him as her One . He had to be careful not to alienate her. He just wanted to help her.
    “Can you call someone for me? I don’t have a cell phone on me,” Becky asked quietly, and when Dean took out his cell phone, she shook her head. “Crap…uh…never mind…sorry…I don’t know the number at my friend’s house,” she said awkwardly. She must sound like the biggest flake.
    Dean simply put the phone back in his pocket, relieved he had a reason to prolong his contact with her, and held out his hand.
    “My name is Dean,” he said simply. “Dean Baker.”
    Becky looked at the hand the man reached toward her. It was calloused and big and she wanted to grab a hold of it and never let go. She could even imagine him laying it on her cheek and brushing his thumb over her cheek. Jesus. She shook her head and figured she was feeling needy because of the last couple of weeks of not having anyone look at her like she was someone.
    She reached toward his hand. “Becky Reynolds,” she told him. She followed his eyes to her hand she was holding out and at the last minute took it back and hugged it to her chest. It was scraped and bleeding…there was no way she could shake his hand without it hurting. She met his eyes and shrugged apologetically.
    Dean saw her hand and held his breath. It was killing him that she was hurt. It was physically hurting him as much as she probably hurt herself. He was in a pickle. This was his One and she was on a reality show to find a husband. How the hell was he going to get around that ?
    Dean moved slowly toward the rock that Becky was sitting on and gestured toward it as if asking permission to sit next to her. Becky scooted over and gave him some room.
    Dean asked again, “Are you okay? What happened? You look a little worse for the wear,” he said with a smile, hoping she’d trust him just a little. He needed her to trust him. He held his hand out toward her again, palm up. “Can I see your hand? I promise to be gentle.”
    Becky grimaced at herself. Not answering his question about letting him see her hand, she kept it close to her chest and said, “Yeah, I slipped on the trail on my way down…but I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”
    Dean slipped his backpack off and told her calmly, trying to sound nonchalant, “I have some basic first aid things in my bag, let me help.” He kept his voice low and calm, trying once again to help her.
    “I really just need to get a ride back to my friend’s house,” Becky said again, trying desperately not