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“We’re nearly to your house,” he repeats. “And I don’t think we’ve been followed.”

“Followed?” My mouth twists to the side, and I tear off another chunk of protein bar. “Why would we be followed?”

My paranoia rears its ugly head again, and adrenaline burns off more of the alcohol.

His eyes leave the road, something feral in them, making me sit up straighter.

“You don’t have any idea why we might have been followed?”

I shake my head, strands of hair lashing around my face.

“You sure about that?”

“I might be a lot of things, Dean Evans. Like right now, I am a little drunk, and a lot nauseous, and grossed out at this protein bar you had lying around for who knows how long, but I’m not a liar.” I glare at him.

He grunts at me.

“Dean, Dean, the ex-Marine, doesn’t like to be touched or wear sunscreen.”

I cringe at myself. I sound like an idiot. Ihatesounding like an idiot. Even worse, now I sound like a drunk idiot. Well, embarrassment is a good sign, right? Maybe I’m a little more sober.

“I like wearing sunscreen just fine.” He shoots me an amused look, the half-smile curving his lips, making him look younger. That dimple flickering into being, along with the oddest compulsion to reach out and touch it.

“I couldn’t think of another rhyme,” I babble.

My stomach growls, and my brain finally catches up with what he said.

“Wait, hold on. Why would we be followed?” I guzzle more water, hoping it will wash away the nasty chalky feeling and maybe the drunkenness, too. “You didn’t answer me.”

“We’re here.” Dean tugs at the wheel, ignoring my question.

I look out the window, anxiety taking hold as we pull into my driveway.

Fear ripples through me as I reassess the situation.

I’m alone in a Jeep with a man I don’t know, a huge, hot man. With no phone. And?—

Adrenaline floods my system completely, and my breath starts coming in great big gasps.

I might not be at the top of my intellectual game at the moment, but I know one thing for sure.

I never told him where I live.

CHAPTER

SIX

DEAN

The roarof the Jeep’s engine goes quiet and I take the key out.

I count down from ten. Except that little therapy trick doesn’t work so well when it comes to a raging libido.

Beside me, June breathes rapidly, her chest rising and falling, the damp material of her shirt clinging like a second skin.

I rub my hand across my forehead, shaking the image of her from my mind.Concentrate.

Her breathing’s too quick, near hyperventilation.