Annie said, shaking her head. “Of course you’re Tucker Brennan.” “And you’re Annie Sheridan.” She nodded, made an abortive move to shake his hand, but her gloves were still on and her body had decided to alert her to a whole symphony of hurts and burns. What she would feel like when the adrenaline faded was going to be torture. “Welcome to Safe Haven,” she said. “You’re bleeding.” He followed her gaze down to his arm where there was now a rip in his shirt. There was blood, but while the cut was long, it wasn’t deep. “Damn. I like this shirt.” “Sorry about that.” She looked him over, just beginning to appreciate that the man in front of her was in a league she didn’t come across anymore. The McAllister brothers were prime examples of tall, dark and handsome, no doubt about it. The sheriff and Matt Gunderson, too. But Brennan had a different kind of good looks.
