The lock beeps softly, and the latch releases with a soft click I feel all the way down my spine.
I push the door open.
The cottage is dim, the faint light from outside softening the familiar shapes of furniture and shelves. The faint scent of roses and lemon oil wraps around me like always, but something in the air feels… disturbed. Like the room inhaled recently and hasn't fully exhaled.
I'm halfway across the threshold when a shape detaches from the shadows.
Not furniture. Not a trick of moonlight.
A person. A man. Standing perfectly still between me and the rest of the cottage.
The rational part of my brain screams at me to run—turn around, bolt back to the main house, call security… or the police. But my body won’t cooperate. My hand clamps around the doorframe to keep my knees from buckling because my legs feel like they’ve been filled with wet sand.
This can’t be happening. I installed locks. I fixed the problem.
The figure in front of me retreats into the dimness of the cottage, putting more space between us. Moonlight from the window catches the line of his jaw, the curve of his shoulder. Male. Bigger than me. Lurking in the depths of the cottage.
My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears. Should I call for help? Scream? Run?
His clothes are worn but clean: dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and boots that look like they’ve walked throughevery neighborhood in the city. The thin cotton pulls across his chest as he moves, hinting at muscle carved by something harsher than a gym.
But it’s his posture that scares me most. He holds himself as if he’s ready to run or fight, muscles coiled with tension. And his hands—his hands are moving in a strange, hypnotic pattern, rolling a silver coin across his knuckles with a fluid precision that speaks of countless hours of practice. It should unsettle me, but something about the motion tugs at me like he’s casting a spell and I can’t look away.
We stare at each other across the small space, neither of us moving. He looks as surprised to see me as I am to see him, which somehow makes this worse. What was he planning to do if I hadn’t come here tonight? How long has he been living in my sanctuary?
"I…" I start, then stop. My voice comes out as barely a whisper.
He raises his hands slowly, palms out, the universal gesture of surrender. The coin has disappeared like magic.
"Easy," he says, and his voice carries a slight accent I can’t identify. "I’m not going to hurt you."
The words should be reassuring, but my pulse jumps at the sound of his voice. Terrifying, yes. But also… something else. Something low and hot and utterly inappropriate.
"Please don’t scream," he continues, taking a careful step backward. "I know how this looks, but I can explain."
Scream? I guess I should, except my throat feels closed, and I can’t seem to make any sound at all.
Finally, I manage to croak out, "You’re…"
"Trespassing," he finishes for me. "Yeah. I know. And you’re the owner."
I nod mutely, still too shocked to form complete sentences.
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture that makes him look younger and somehow less threatening. My stomach does a strange little flip, ridiculous under the circumstances, as if my body hasn’t gotten the message that he’s nothing but danger.
"Look, I know this is terrifying. Finding a stranger in your space." His gaze flicks to the door behind me, then back to my face. "I was just leaving."
"You were…" I swallow hard. "Leaving. As in… you’ve been… here."
His jaw tightens, like he’s choosing every word with care. "I’ve been sleeping here. A few days. I tried to put everything back exactly how I found it."
The fruit bowl. The dishtowels. All those little details that made me think I was losing my mind. I wasn’t. This man has been living here.
"You moved my things," I whisper.
He stays back, letting me have space, but the coiled readiness in his stance makes me absurdly certain that if anything threatened me now, he’d put himself between me and danger.
His expression becomes almost sheepish. "I’m sorry about that. I tried to be careful, but sometimes accidents happen. I never meant to harm anyone."
