A US Marshal? My eyes went to the other man and a chill rushed through me. He was in handcuffs. That couldn’t be good. My eyes traveled up his body, lingering on his chest—which was filling out a black t-shirt under a flannel very nicely—until I reached his eyes which were fixed on me. I could feel a blush creep across my cheeks at being caught staring. His eyes were bright blue, nearly the color of the glaciers I saw hiking the other day. There was something wild and almost feral about him.
