“Yes. But mostly it’s wise to remember that the worst sides of people come out when they get scared and desperate. People who might not be predators under normal circumstances will do really fucked up things to survive.”

She seemed to deflate a little. My eyes lingered on her. If she’d been bothered that Charlie’s stardom outshined hers with the two men in the front of the truck, she hadn’t shown it. I allowed my gaze to run over her now as she focused on the road ahead. Since we’d left the Goodfellows’ home, she’d been wearing jeans and a thick, quilted jacket over a flannel shirt and a pair of boots. The whole ensemble was warm and practical and made her look vaguely ridiculous and kind of sexy too. A few days ago, I would have blamed that unwanted—and inconvenient—reaction on the fact that I hadn’t had sex in over six years. But now… I could admit that it wasn’t just that Emily was beautiful, it was that she was fiery and spirited too and that was the quality—above all else—that had always drawn me to her and still did.

Her hair was braided this morning, loose strands framing her face. She raised her hand to scratch her cheek and I saw that the talons she’d had at the start of the journey were now mostly gone. Then Charlie sighed in his sleep and moved his head more snugly into the crook of her neck and I felt an unwelcome zap of jealousy. Ever since Em and I had worked together getting the horses under control, I couldn’t help thinking of her as more of a partner than an old friend I was doing a favor for. But Charlie kept reminding me exactly why that was ridiculous and foolhardy.

I looked away, off in the direction we were heading. That feeling of partnership had been brought on by the high emotions of what we’d experienced together—and the thrill of victory. It would wear off sooner rather than later and I could go back to—happily—being annoyed by her.

Next to her, Charlie stirred, blinked, and sat up. He bent his neck one way and then the other. “Are we there yet?”

The truck pulled over to the side of the road several hours later and we climbed down from its bed. Emilio leaned out the window and said, “This is our turnoff. You’ll probably want to stick to this road.” He extended a piece of paper and a pen. “Do you mind autographing this?” he asked Charlie. “No one’s ever going to believe we gave a movie star a ride.”

Charlie seemed all too delighted, signing with a flourish and then handing the pen and paper back over. We thanked them again and Charlie waved as they drove away, standing there even after their car had disappeared from view.