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The Chevy's passenger door opened and Lauren's vision stopped seesawing long enough to focus on the cowboy For the first tie of his nose, probably a trophy fro he had a hot temper should haveshe could find ato childish outbursts It was the sort of civilized thing herherself, Lauren blaly sensible attitude on tiredness She needed sleep Stat

The cowboy lifted the Stetson off her head and returned it to his own crop of messy blond hair

"Finder's keepers,” she wanted to protest But she couldn't get her mouth around the words

He lifted her off the seat and balanced her over his shoulder The back of her dress was riding up, but she couldn't see it down Her head felt as heavy and fragile as one of her ly, the very htened and seemed to float away frootten here Had they driven in the truck?

Lauren stared down at the heels of the cowboy's boots tracking through muddy snow Her body bounced with every step, and it washer stomach swim Bitterly cold air, mixed with the sharp smell of pine trees, burned the inside of her nose A porch swing creaked on its chain and wind chi h It made her shudder

Lauren heard the cowboy unlock a door She tried to pry her eyelids open long enough to get a dis She would have to call her brother in the ive hiht ironically Her brother would drive her back to the lodge, scolding her for being careless and self-destructive, but he'd come He always did

The cowboy set her on her feet, grasping her shoulders to balance her Lauren glanced sluggishly around A cabin He'd brought her to a log cabin The den they stood in had rustic pine furniture, the kind that looked tacky everywhere but in a cabin An open door on the far side of the den led to a s the walls The storage roo pole that ran fro, and a camera on a tripod that was positioned to face the pole

Even through her haze, fear gripped Lauren in a vise She had to get out of here So to happen

But her feet wouldn't move

The cowboy backed her against the pole The ed to the floor Her stilettos twisted off as her ankles slid out from under her She was too drunk to scrabble back onto her feet Herto find the door leading out of the storage room The more she tried to concentrate, the faster the room spun Her stomach heaved, and she lurched sideways to keep the mess off her clothes "You left this at the bar,” the cowboy said, dropping her Cardinals baseball cap on her head The hat had been a gift from her brother when she'd been accepted to Stanford a feeeks ago Their parents had probably put hiift had arrived suspiciously soon after she'd announced she wasn't going to Stanford-or any college Her dad had turned so red, so stopped of breath, she was positive steam would blow from his ears like a cartoon caricature

The cowboy lifted the gold chain hanging around her neck clear of her head, his rough knuckles scraping her cheek

"Valuable?" he asked her, exa the heart-shaped locket closely

"Mine,” she said, suddenly very defensive He could take back his sed to her Her parents had given it to her the night of her first ballet recital, twelve years ago It was the first and only ti she'd initiated It was the one reminder she had that deep down, they overned, pushed, and molded by their vision

Two years ago, at sixteen, her own vision had raged to life Art, theatre, indie bands, edgy, unscripted modern dance, rallies with political activists and intellectuals (not dropouts!) who'd left college to pursue alternative education, and a boyfriend with a brilliant, tortured mind who smoked weed and scribbled poetry on church walls, park benches, cars, and her own hungry soul