THE HOT STRANGER

She knew she should be afraid. A strange guy giving her the chilly remembrance of one person, she would do anything to have his memory erased from her head. 

This guy with his stupid perfect hair popping out of nowhere, staring at her like he was about to devour her, should terrify her. But it didn't.

He hadn't been there when Freya had first stopped and climbed out of the car. He must have arrived when she'd bent over to get the phone, which meant he'd seen every bit of her round backside hugged by her skintight dress.

This stretch of road was deserted. Eerily so. The streets in this area were always packed, but once outside the city, it was possible to find long stretches of highway empty of traffic, such as the one Freya drove down to get to the company every day.

There was no one out here, no one speeding along the straight road to rescue

her. No one but herself in a now-rumpled dress that wouldn't make quite the impression she had hoped on her business partner. And, the tall man stared at her from the grass.

"Hey!" Freya shouted at him. "You know how to fix a car?" Not having much of a choice, she either approached the stranger or, sacrificed, her big day.

Getting no response from the fine stranger, Freya gathered all the courage she had left and began stomping toward the stranger. 

Getting to where he stood, the images of Dante flashed through Freya's head. 

It was no joke that this weird stranger gave her a worrying feeling and reminded her so much of Dante. 

She could still recognize the Dante in question when she sets her eyes on him. Or, could she not? Has it been that long already since his face had slowly begun fading away with each day that passed by? Maybe Freya was doing a good job of forgetting everyone who caused her pain.

"Hi." She said sharply. "Do you know how to fix a car?" She asked again.

The stranger gave her a scrutinizing look from her hair to her toes. Instead of a response, his eyes seemed to have been penetrating Freya's soul, baring out what she was thinking.

"Okay, I think I just encountered a deaf and dumb person," she mumbled to herself, careful not to say it to the hearing of the composed stranger.

Meanwhile, the stranger was neither deaf nor dumb. He was just mesmerized by such beauty and shocked to have met someone on the lonely road.

This was his favorite spot to get away from all the noise. 

He would often lay on the grass, taking time to appreciate nature while inhaling the cool air and listening to absolute quietness. Not until it wasn't so quiet anymore.

The fierce lady with a broken car had stirred something in him. Something like hope, connection, and power. Why it happened, he still couldn't tell.

Freya threw up her hands in annoyance and hurried back to her car. 

She had no idea what to do and whom to call. Walking to the company wasn't even an option. Beyond the car angering her, she was more infuriated by the quiet stranger.

Although, he'd left his clothes hidden behind a little rise at the side of this road. He was supposed to head back to join the others soon

He'd dressed, walked around the rise to the road. . . and saw a fine backside sticking out of a bright, beautiful car. The backside was covered in tight expensive fabric, showing off nothing but beautiful long legs. Shoes that rose and made those legs look even shapelier.

Not able to take it anymore, the stranger walked to Freya, earning an astonishing look as he did so.

He wanted to get a closer look at her. He couldn't get enough of her fresh scent. A mixture of Vanilla and seductive cologne intoxicated him. The scent of a mate he was denied.

"Can you pop the hood for me?" he spoke for the first time, his voice very deep and hoarse.

For a couple of seconds, Freya just stared wide-eyed. Oh, he could talk. And she regretted making the comments she made earlier.

"I don't know," she said, frustrated. "This car is different from anything I usually drive. Hang on, let me check." Her voice was a sweet little melodic sound, not too heavy. A light touch, enough to make warmth crawl through the stranger's veins and go straight to his cock.

Freya found a catch and worked the hood open, then dusted off her hands and peered at the inner workings without comprehension. "Expensive car, my ass." She scowled at it. "Expensive just means more trouble."

The stranger looked inside. The layout was much different from the cars he was used to. Not that he had seen many anyway. But, he knew a thing or two about different cars.

"Got a socket wrench?"

When he looked up at Freya, he saw her staring at him from behind the sunglasses. "Your eyes," she said. "They're. . . Beautiful." Not able to contain her doubts, "have I seen you before? You look oddly familiar." She blurted out.

"Oddly familiar," he chuckled. "You know me," he said almost in a whisper.

"Know You? Elaborate," she pressed.

"In time. Just with time," he said, with a distasteful look on his face that quickly disappeared as soon as it appeared on his face. It was so fast that Freya barely noticed.

The stranger turned away before her scent convinced him to press her back against the side of the car and hold her to himself. That fantasy would be short-lived because she looked like someone who could very well handle herself.

She opened the back of the car and found a toolbox, which did have a set of socket wrenches. 

He took one and reached inside the car, looking for the silence within himself that would lead him to the problem. He seemed to be able to sense what was wrong with engines, and how to coax them back to life. He couldn't explain how he did it-he only knew that cars and trucks didn't watch him or fear him, and he could see what was wrong when others couldn't.

Hopefully, he can also see what others don't see in Freya.