Read Hunted (Riley Cray) for Free Online Page A

and scarf, I buried my nose in the soft folds that smelled of wood smoke and home. Tugging the wooly hat on, pulling it down over my ears, I looked up to see him regarding me with laughter shining in his eyes.
    “What?”
    “Nice hat.”
    I was about to stick my tongue out at him when he removed a black shape from under his arm and plopped a cowboy hat on his head, adjusting it until it sat just right.
    “Ditto,” I fired back with a smirk, voice muffled by the layers of my scarf.
    “Why, thank you ma’am,” he said, disarming me with the brilliance and sincerity of his straight white smile.
    God, that smile could break hearts and drop panties in a millisecond , I thought with a wistful sigh, confused by the desire to trust him implicitly.
    I’d spent so much time hiding away from the ugliness of the world that I’d almost forgotten that not everyone was only interested in the parts they could hurt and exploit. I was dazzled by the pure honesty of his smile and how it made his eyes sparkle with warmth and openness.
    “Ready?” he asked, unaware of the way that he enchanted me.
    Nodding, I snatched the room key from the night stand and shoved my hands in my jacket pockets, ready to brave the cold.
    The diner was only a quick jaunt across the parking lot, but the blowing snow and mine field of pot holes made it treacherous and slow going. By the time we reached the front door of the diner we both bore a thick layer of heavy, wet snow and bright red noses. Ducking under Holbrook’s arm as he held the door open, I stamped the snow from my boots, hopping from one foot to the other in an attempt to warm my toes.
    Removing his hat, Holbrook gave it a shake to dislodge the snow that had settled on the brim, before putting it back on, making a show of tipping the brim while winking at me. Chuckling, I rolled my eyes at him, tugging off my hat and stuffing it into a pocket.
    As the chime of the bell above the door died away I puzzled over something in the sound of it, like something half remembered from a dream, twisting a knot of fear in my stomach. Before I could delve too deep into the source of my discomfort a middle aged woman in a faded, but recently pressed, uniform pushing her way through the swinging door from the kitchen. The scent of her bleach bottle hair wafted to me across the diner, and I fought against the urge to wrinkle my nose at the astringent smell, busying myself instead with tugging off my gloves and scarf.
    The rubber soles of her utilitarian shoes squeaked on the ancient tiled floor as she shuffled towards us, her sluggish gait speaking of long hours on her feet. A worn down pencil was pushed through the tangle of her hair where it was gathered into a bun at the nape of her neck.
    “Just the two of you?” she asked, her voice warm despite the tiredness in her eyes and the slump of her shoulders.
    “Please,” Holbrook answered, flashing his brilliant smile at the waitress.
    Taking two menus from beside the antiquated cash register she led us to one of the booths beside the large windows. “Will this be okay?”
    “Perfect, thank you,” my well-mannered companion replied, and with a tilt of his chin gestured for me to slide into the booth first, leaving the seat facing the door open for him.
    Sliding onto the creaking vinyl I tried to ignore the tension that settled between my shoulders, dancing over my skin like icy fingers along with the feeling that someone was watching me. Scouring the diner and parking lot outside for someone looking at us, I didn’t see anyone except for our waitress and the diner’s lone customer who sat several tables away, deeply immersed in shoveling steak and eggs into his mouth. Gritting my teeth against the unnerving sensation, I gave my head a small shake to dislodge the feeling, attributing the cold tremors in my gut to the chill emanating from the window beside us.
    I thought about taking off my jacket, but as another shiver rippled through me, I settled