Chapter 3

By the time he slogged back to the owner of the backpack, the man had washed his face and grinned up at Brandon with a wry expression that set Brandon’s heart racing and turned loose a whole batch of butterflies in his stomach.

* * * *

“So, what’s your name?” Scott’s rescuer sat next to him on the lip of the ditch and rummaged through the first-aid kit. He turned the flashlight on and peered into Scott’s eyes, which was painful and annoying. Scott wondered if the guy even knew why he was doing that, or if he’d just seen too many hospital procedural shows on the television.

“Scott Seay.”

“Where you from, Scott?”

“Baltimore,” he answered.

“Tourist?”

“Something like that.” Work, actually, but he didn’t feel like explaining.

“Do you know who the current president is?”

Scott forgot how badly his head hurt and rolled his eyes, answering the question.