Russell's fist bangs on the door again. He peers over the railing of the second floor stair, right at her shiny black Charger, before looking at her room number again. 23.

Another knock. Jesus, what if she's already dead?

"I'm coming!" She shouts, voice rasping with exertion, muted by the door. Russell's chest releases.

It's nine AM and he didn't sleep all night. Hasn't seen her in two. Not outside of his mind, anyway. When she left the other night, after he'd picked up all the pieces of his broken heart, he dreamt about her.

It's damn annoying.

Three minutes go by before the door unlatches. Then she's in front of him, blonde hair pulled back into a disheveled braid. Dried blood stains her skin, her jeans. Russell gawks at it, and she frowns before following his gaze.

"Ah, fuck," she mutters, rubbing her eyes. "Wait, what the fuck?" She levels a cold glower at him.

"Do you know how hard it is to find you?" Russell asks, because it's the only thing he's thinking right now. He'd gone to every motel in this town—which isn't some amazing feat—holding up a picture of her he found on the internet. The man at the front desk directed him to this exact room when Russell said she was his girlfriend who'd taken his dog after they broke up.

Blue eyes melt the flesh off of his face. "Come on, you're checking out." Katherine just gawks at him, bewildered and enraged. "C'mon, get your stuff." Russell juts his chin into the room. "Want me to help?"

"No, I don't want you to help," she cooly replies. "Patronizing asshole, I want you to leave."

"That's not an option." Russell flashes her a sarcastic smile. Katherine sucks on her teeth before stepping into the sunlight, closing the door behind her. Russell takes one step backwards. Katherine looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows, hands on her hips.

"Look, Russell," she begins. "I don't know you, and you don't know me. Saving me from freezing to death doesn't entitle you to stalk me. Leave. Me. Alone."

Russell's jaw clenches. "Katherine. Get your shit. You aren't staying here by yourself."

"I'm leaving town tomorrow," she says, too quickly to be true. Russell crosses his arms.

"Liar," he accuses.

"I'm not a liar!"

"You're a hunter," he scoffs. She frowns and crosses her arms.

"That's a little classist, don't you think?"

"No, I don't. Pack your shit. Please."

"Why do you care so much?" She challenges.

"Why'd you come to my house the other night?" Russell retorts. Katherine's nostrils flare. "Not for a trip down memory lane, obviously." He sighs through his nose, throwing his gaze to the mountains over his right shoulder. "Can I take you to lunch?" Russell asks. "Please."

He watches her blue eyes narrow in a fraction of a second. Analyzing. He waits for the next venomous remark. She seems like the kind of woman who has an arsenal of them. "I'm not sleeping with you," she states. Russell breathes out a laugh as she opens the door and slams it closed behind her.

In ten minutes, she opens the door again, wearing a white t-shirt and a clean pair of blue jeans, white converse. A light jacket is strewn over her arm as she locks her door, sunglasses and a ball cap shield her eyes. She turns towards him and stays there for a moment.

"Are you even a fucking cowboy?" She asks, and pushes past him.

Russell grins and follows her down the stairs. "I do day work on a ranch outside of town," he tells her.

Katherine mutters something under her breath as she moves for her car.

"What kind of cowboy would I be if I let you drive?"

She whirls on her heel and comes within two inches of him. "Let's get one thing straight, cowboy," Katherine snarls. "You don't let me do anything."

Russell smiles a little, nodding as he gazes down his nose at her. The thing is, she's almost as tall as he is. "Yeah. All right."

"Then lead the fuckin' way." She throws her arm out to the side. He leads her to his Bronco, even opens up her door for her. "Oh, Jesus you're laying it on thick."

He just smiles at her, closes the door, then rolls his eyes.

"I saw that!"

"Good!" Russell twists the key in the ignition, frowning at her the whole time. "You sure know how to wind someone up."

"It's a talent," she sneers.

Neither one of them spoke on the drive to wherever the hell Russell pulled into—he went into autopilot—but it was a relief even having his eyes on her.

And he doesn't know why he cares so damn much, but it was nice to see her eat something.