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“You don’t do things like this,” he said again, hearing the helpless frustration in his own voice.

“I know. That’s the point. I’ve never done anything like this, and I want to. I am tired of hiding. I’m not going to do it anymore.” She took a deep breath. “Everyone else does this stuff. Everyone else acts normal. Not me. I am twenty-eight years old and I’m still paralyzed by things that happened to me more than a decade ago. I’m done. This is me, moving on.”

“This is not how you move on.”

“You don’t get to make that decision for me, Luke.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yes, you’re right. This is bullshit!” And then she whirled around on her stilettos and started to sashay away from him. He imagined she was aiming for a stomp, but the heels on her shoes prevented it.

Without thinking whether or not he should, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

*

M
ELANIE WAS PRETTY
sure a blood vessel in her head was going to explode, and then she was going to bleed out on the main street of Marietta, Montana in a dress that made her look like she was—as her grandmother would put it—
hawking her wares.

But dammit all, it was time for her wares to be bought. They were dusty. And unused. Mint-condition, in original box.

And Luke Freaking Shuller of all freaking people had no right to stop her from trying to change that. Years of pining. Damn
years
. And finally,
finally
, she was ready to move on. From her pointless feelings for him. From her paralyzing fear of men and relationships and sex.

But now he was here, telling her she couldn’t do this. That she had to stop.

Right
. When he was getting laid regularly, and she had to stand around bearing witness while getting none of the laid herself.

Un. Fair.

“Get your hands off me, Luke, or so help me God…”

“You’ll get yourself thrown over my shoulder again and carted off? You can’t do anything to me.”

Rage flooded through her. “You’re going to use physical intimidation against me? Original.”

He released his hold on her like she she’d suddenly turned into molten metal, then took a giant step back. She felt guilty now, which was stupid. He was being a tool. But she knew he wasn’t going to hurt her, and she shouldn’t have implied it.

“I’m not trying to intimidate you. I just…Mel, come on. This isn’t you. You’re smarter than this. You know how to protect yourself.”

Yes, she did. Protecting herself was all she knew. She’d spent the first thirteen years of her life curled inward, fending off attacks both emotional and physical. She’d realized recently she’d never shed the habit. Not even after leaving her parents’ home in Idaho to come to Montana to live with her grandmother.

She’d cradled her fear, held it close. Fed and coddled it like a pet. Trained it and used it as her guard dog. Her fear had been her safety all her life.

So yeah, Luke was right. She
did
know better. But she was sick of knowing better. Of treating herself like she was a damaged victim in need of protection and shelter.

“This is what people do, Luke. It’s normal.”

“Not for you,” he ground out.

“Right. Because I’m a wounded sparrow.”

“Yes!”

The word settled between them, and she let it. Just let it sit there. Ugly and mean and exactly why she had to change.

Apparently, it wasn’t only her who saw herself that way, it was the people around her. She couldn’t even really blame Luke. She’d let him protect her. He’d been all too willing. But it had to stop.

“I’m not wounded, dammit,” she said, her brows locking together. “I am not. I’m a woman, if you hadn’t noticed.” He hadn’t. She knew he hadn’t. She’d tried, with much futility, at his sister, Sierra’s wedding last month to see if there was even the slightest chance that he might have actually noticed and…no.

Of course, if any other woman had taken him out back at the wedding venue, and offered him a little spiked punch and conversation as the sun dipped behing the mountains, he would have had her flat on her back in five minutes.

But not her. Not Melanie.

No matter how she’d angled her head, and looked down, and flicked her hair and thrust her boobs out, he’d seemed completely oblivious.

Then she’d gone to the garage for lunch a few weeks later only to see some skanky ho in a mini skirt and heels stumbling in from the apartment attached to the shop, looking tumbled and disheveled and still a little buzzed from the night before.

Mel had realized then and there that she would never be the skanky ho. At least not Luke’s skanky ho.

Which meant moving on. Really moving on and not just waiting for things to change with the aid of pixie dust that didn’t fucking exist.

“I’m going back inside,” she said, sticking her chin out and crossing her arms. “And I’m going to find a guy.”

“What? To screw you?”

When he put it like that, it sounded a little crude. But she was open to a little crude after all the years of wrapping herself carefully in cotton wool and bubble wrap. She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Yeah.”

“No.” He turned and reached out, grabbing the handle on the passenger door of the black muscle car that was parked against the curb, jerking it open. “Get your ass in the car.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say ‘make me’ but at this point she figured he just might.

In all honesty, there weren’t really any guys back in Grey’s that she even wanted to tongue kiss, much less get naked with.

She looked at Luke, long, tall and sexy in well-fitted jeans and a tight black T-shirt. His dark eyes were glittering with rage, his normally sharp cheekbones and square jaw cut into even sharper relief by the hard light from the bar clashing with the velvet night.

He looked…like Luke, familiar and warm and everything she’d ever wanted in a man. And also,
not
like Luke.

He seemed edgier. Darker. The bruise staining the skin around his eye, the barely restrained violence in his posture…

It should make her want to run away from him. But it didn’t. No, the difference fascinated her. Tempted her.

To move closer. To try again.

To make it clear that she wanted something more from him than his overprotective BFF routine.

But that was the fruity drinks talking. She’d had a couple tonight. A little liquid courage to help with Mission Virginity Loss.

For all the good it had done. She just felt dizzy and annoyed.

“Get. In. The. Car,” he repeated.

And since the only man she wanted was standing out here, and there was nothing for her back in there, she obeyed.

Chapter Two

‡

M
ELANIE SHIFTED IN
her seat, making sure her shoulder strap was in the appropriate position. Then she tugged the skirt on her dress down so that it covered a little more of her thighs. What had felt fine, even exciting, back in the bar, now just felt self-conscious sitting in the car with Luke.

She was so aware. Of every bit of bare skin. Of how tight the material was. Of just how hard he must think she was trying. Because she
was
trying hard. And of course Luke would know that. He knew how she usually looked. And pretty much had zero reaction to it.

He’d had a reaction to this. But it wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d always hoped for.

Of course, another man had been touching her.

Luke didn’t seem like he was jealous, though. He just seemed like he’d gone into some fugue caveman state where he disregarded the rules of polite society, while forgetting that women were full-fledged people and not objects at the same time.

“Where are you taking me?” She tried to look out the window, but the blur of buildings glowing in the streetlights made her dizzy.

Thanks, alcohol
.

“I’m staying at the motel just out of town.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Classy.”

“I’m on a budget, Mel.”

“You’re taking me back to your motel?”

“Didn’t you want to go home with a guy tonight?”

“Not with you,” she said through gritted teeth. The annoying thing was, that was a lie. Part of her had always wanted to go home with Luke. From the first moment she’d understood what that meant.

It had been a jarring realization for teenage Mel. Luke had always been a safe space, the only man she’d ever trusted. But once those churning, shaky, stomach-tightening, knee-wobbling, attraction feelings had been introduced things had gotten a little bit difficult on her end.

So yeah, the past decade of their friendship, really. She’s been a late bloomer when it had come to men, thanks to her past. But good Lord, if her Luke feelings had started any earlier she would have imploded by now. Of course, had she been normal, she wouldn’t be a twenty-eight-year-old virgin with nothing but sweaty dreams about her best friend to count as sexual experience.

Had she been normal, she probably would have gone out and found a man who was actually interested in her a lot longer ago.

Now that she finally had, Luke was here meddling.

“Just take me home,” she mumbled, feeling suddenly sleepy and a little bit ill.

“I am exhausted. I’m not driving you all the way out to the cabin.”

“My car is at the bar,” she said, knowing she sounded like she was whining now.

“I imagine you were going to ditch it anyway. At least take a cab, right? Because you’ve had some drinks.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. About either thing.

They turned the corner, taking the road that led away from the main part of town, and out toward the main highway. They passed by the gun mart and the gas station, continuing on until the faint lights of town faded.

The longer they drove, the more clearly Melanie realized neither of them had a plan. Luke had no clue what he was doing right now, and Melanie hadn’t had any idea of what she was doing all night. Not from the moment she’d sat down at that table with that guy – Joel. For some reason remembering his name seemed unimportant – to the moment Luke had carried her out of the bar, and demanded she get in his car.

There was a little alcove where the trees thinned, a fluorescent security light shining down on a nearly vacant parking lot. A tall, faded sign bearing the name Grizzly Lodge was clearly visible thanks to the bright green neon outlining the words.

“Very nice, Shuller. A real palace.”

“Probably where you would have ended up if you would have gone home with that drunk-ass cowboy.”

She cringed internally, because he was probably right.

As if on cue, a cab pulled into the lot, parking across the way from them. And when the first passenger got out, she saw that it was indeed Joel. He was not hurting for company. A redhead got out of the other side and Melanie gritted her teeth in frustration. That woman was getting Melanie’s sex, and all Melanie was getting was a lecture.

“Look at that. See what I mean? He didn’t exactly respect you.”

Melanie rolled her eyes and let out a growl. “You’re assuming I wanted him to.”

“Out of the car. Now.”

She undid her seatbelt and slammed it against the side of the car with a bit more ferocity than was necessary, then she got out, slamming the door behind her. She heard Luke’s door close behind hers.

He said nothing as he stopped at the nearest bright red door, taking a key out of his pocket and jiggling it in the lock, pushing it open and extending his arm as though he were a gentleman magnanimously allowing her first entry into a grand suite.

She stomped past him, her high heels sinking into the faded, tacky-looking carpet, causing her to pitch sideways. For the second time that night, Luke grabbed her by the arm, holding her upright. He closed the door behind them, doing up the deadbolt, his hand still wrapped around her arm.

“You can let go of me.” She proceeded to lean against him while she reached down and grabbed hold of the heel of her shoe, taking it off, then repeating the motion with the other one.

“Okay, now let go of me,” she said, stumbling as she straightened.

“How drunk are you?” He looked furious now.

She squinted. “I’m not drunk. I only had three drinks.” Now that the anger was fading, she felt a little bit lightheaded, though. “And they were pretty drinks.”

“Have you ever had three drinks in one sitting in your life, Melanie Richards?”

“No. No I haven’t. And you know what else? I’ve never had sex.” The words just sort of exploded from her, with no thought or reason. She spun around and sat on the bed, falling backward on the pine tree-covered comforter.

Luke made a sound that hovered somewhere between a groan and a growl. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Because you like…cock blocked me.” She opened her eyes and looked up just in time to see a blanket floating up in the air, settling over her, from the top of her head down to her feet. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice muffled by the fabric.

“You are going to sleep. You’re going to not talk to me anymore. You’re going to share no more personal information with me whatsoever. Sleep.”

“You are”—she fought to get out of the blanket, gasping for fresh air when she found it—“ornery tonight.”

“And you are helpless tonight.”

“I’m not.” She was sleepy though. Maybe she was a little bit more sauced than she’d given herself credit for. Everything had seemed perfectly clear in the bar, and after that, anger had provided a buffer between herself and the booze. But now all the adrenaline was wearing off and she just felt deflated. She had tried to do something big. And she had done nothing instead.

“Go to sleep, little girl. I’ll yell at you more in the morning.”

Luke crossed over to the faded, threadbare sofa against the back wall of the room and plopped down, kicking his boots off, putting his hands behind his head. She couldn’t help but admire his silhouette, couldn’t help but stare at the muscles in his biceps as he ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. He sighed heavily.

“You don’t have to sleep over there,” she said, feeling her face heat. “I don’t want to take your bed.”