Someone who cared enough to change the lock… but didn’t secure the place against someone like me.
Sheltered. Brave. Or completely unaware of the kind of man who’s been sleeping in her bed.
Tonight, I should walk away before this becomes something I can’t untangle.
Fortuna doesn’t favor fools, and staying would make me one.
I gather my things and head for the door. Leaving is the smart call. The only call.
And yet, this place has gotten under my skin in a way I didn’t expect. All my life, I’ve been a survivor, someone who takes what he needs and moves on. But wanting more—wantingthis—is how men get sloppy. How they get caught.
So, I make myself move. One step toward the door. Then another. Before I talk myself into staying. Before I do something I can’t fight my way out of.
My hand closes around the doorknob.
One deep breath.
One last look.
Then–
A faint scrape.
The beeping sequence of numbers.
Turning.
Slow.
Careful.
Deliberate.
Someone’s here.
She’s here.
I freeze.
The door opens.
And everything in my world resets in one heartbeat—before I even see her face.
Chapter Four
Charity
The new keypad lock gleams silver against the cottage door.
"You’re being paranoid, Charity." Mother’s voice echoes in my head. "A moved fruit bowl, and a differently folded towel? Really?"
I told myself that earlier today when I had the locks changed. Told myself again over dinner. Told myself a third time while I lay in bed in the house, staring at the ceiling, replaying every tiny thing that had felt wrong in here.
And still, I couldn’t sleep.
So now I’m here. In the dark. I’ve crept out to my own cottage like a thief, though I’m wearing my pajamas under my coat. Just to prove to myself that everything is fine.
I hesitate before the keypad, fumbling with the unfamiliar code, my fingers shaking in the chilly night air as I punch in the numbers. The mechanism clicks softly as the lock disengages.
