Here’s hoping I didn’t kill him or I’m going to be in some serious shit.
I pulled into the driveway, my heart thudding against my ribs. The cabin was ahead and had a warm glow in the windows, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the walls. I’d spent all day building up the courage to come up here. Even though I could tell the home was old, it was still . . . charming? It had a large porch that seemed to wrap around at least half of the house, and I could see an adorable porch swing.
I stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath my boots, and approached the door. It swung open before I could knock, revealing the man himself, Lachlan MacGregor, with an ice pack pressed to his head. A giant purple lump marred the skin just above his brow from where I’d whacked him . . .Ouch. The spot looked like a damn tumor.
I leaned against the wooden post on the porch, watching him. His fingers trembled slightly as they clutched the ice. The room smelled of old wood with the faintest hint of him. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower because his black hair was still wet and tousled over his brow.
"Before you get mad, I gave the cops your name, so if you try to kill me, the first place they’re coming is here."
His eyes snapped up to mine. “You did what!?” Anger flared in his eyes, but I saw fear too, which let me know everything I needed. He was just as guilty as I was.
Lachlan’s jaw clenched, muscles working beneath the skin like he was chewing on glass.
"Also," I said, "I told them we were dating." The words fell between us. "Statistically speaking, spouses or significant others are always the first suspects. If I go down, you're going down with me."
"The fuck—I don’t even know who you are,” he growled, running a hand through his hair and wincing. He murmured to himself about me being off my trolley before he finally shifted back to me. “Why? Why do all of this?!"
"Because you kidnapped me!" I spat out. "And chained me up to a bedpost!" His head tilted, an unreadable expression painting his rugged face as he glanced around us, as if anyone would be out here in the middle of nowhere.
"I was trying to help!" His words were clipped.
I almost laughed. "That’s your version of help? Snatching someone who’s already on edge because they’re trying to bury a body!?” His eyes flared. "Well, now you know that's not helpful!" I snapped.
Silence slammed into us as he glanced around. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed whatever retort was on the tip of his tongue. He ran a hand through his hair again, making it messier than before.
"Alright . . . ," he finally muttered. His gaze slid away from mine, and he looked lost in thought.
I let out a slow breath, trying to steady the jittering nerves that danced beneath my skin. My hands were clammy, so I rubbed them on my jeans.
“Look,” I started, my voice steadier than I felt. "We're in this mess together now. Whether you like it or not."
He turned back to me, those intense gray eyes narrowing. "So, what then? We’re accomplices?”
"Partners," I corrected firmly. “We need the cops to believe that we’re a thing, so just go along with it if they show up.” I turned and started to leave.
“If you want this to be believable, I think I’m going to need your name, bonnie lass,” he said, and I almost laughed because it was true we knew nothing about each other. And what the hell was a bonnie lass? I turned and found him leaning against the doorframe, his eyes roving over me, leaving heat wherever they looked.
“Right. Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Logan Roark. Let’s say we’ve been dating a year, and I moved out here to be closer to you. We met through, I don’t know, an event I was the coordinator for, and we bumped into each other and hit it off. I’m an event planner, by the way, so let's go with that for now. Okay, now, what about you?”
“Uh, I’m Lachlan MacGregor.”
“That’s all you got? Pretty sure I got more from the Google search I did.”
“I’m a simple man,Logan. You Google-searched me?”
“Yeah, I had to know who the caveman was that tried to kidnap me.”
He chuckled then. “I think if we’re going to chat anymore, it should be inside.”
“Is this the part where you kill me?”
“No, Logan, we need to know the dirty details, too, if we want this to work.” I liked the way he said my name, it sent heat through me.
“Alright,” I agreed, and he moved to the side as an invitation for me to come in. I walked in and honestly, the place could usesome love, there was a stack of unpaid bills on the table by the door, but he grabbed those and tossed them in a drawer as he started hobbling toward the kitchen.
“Drink?” he asked as he opened one of the cabinets and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of something that looked strong. It hadn’t been opened yet.
“Absolutely,” I replied as he pulled off the plastic wrap and top and poured us both some.
