The shout from behind her reached her ears, but she couldn’t stop to acknowledge it. Just ahead was her stalker. Watcher. Whatever. She’d seen him yesterday outside the hospital and the day before wearing the same outfit. And now he was here?

Her feet pounded the asphalt. “Hey! You!”

The man froze, then he turned and ran, hopped into a dark sedan, and sped off down the street.

A hand on her arm spun her around.

On instinct, she lashed out with a fist that connected to flesh. A harsh grunt escaped her attacker while pain exploded from her knuckles to her wrist. Her victim stumbled backward.

“Heather!”

She floundered to a stop, panting, heart thundering in her ears. “Travis?” Heather flexed her fingers to make sure she hadn’t broken anything. When they moved freely, if painfully, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Travis Walker, bent at the waist, one hand covering his cheek. “Holy cow, you have a mean right.”

Horrified, Heather gaped. “Oh, my word . . . oh no. I’m so sorry. What were you doing?” She’d hit him. The guy whose attention she’d been trying to get since the day she’d met him a little over a year ago. Well, she had his attention now.

“I pulled in behind you and saw you sitting in your car,” he said. “I was coming to walk inside with you when all of a sudden you were racing down the street.”

“So, you decided to chase me?”

“And catch you, much to my regret.” He straightened and winced. “What were you running from?”

“Not from. To.” She glanced back in the direction she’d seen the figure. Gone now, of course. “It’s not important.” The urge to share her fears and concerns nearly overpowered her, but she swallowed the words and stepped closer to him, eyes on his wound. He still looked amazing to her even with a bruised eye. “Let me see it.”

“It’s fine.”

“Travis, come on.” She leaned in and caught a whiff of that cologne he used. A scent she’d come to associate only with him.

“Nope.” He actually backed away from her, the expression on his face grabbing her curiosity. He rubbed just under the wound, his blue eyes glinting at her, a mixture of admiration and . . . fear?

She raised a brow. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

He flushed. “Nothing. Doctors make me nervous.” He bent and picked up the black Stetson that had flown from his dark head when she belted him.

“Doctors make you . . .” She sputtered to a stop. Then laughed. When he didn’t join her, that trailed off too. “You’re serious?”

“Now you know my deepest, darkest secret.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

He raised a brow.

“Heather?” Brooke’s concerned call from her front porch sent a deep sigh shuddering through her.