“Fine,” Eliza muttered through gritted teeth. “I’ll try contacting the rental company.”
“Good.” He ran his hands through his hair, looking relieved. “Maybe they can find another place you can stay for the holiday.”
Eliza cut her eyes at him, throwing all pretense of friendliness right out the sugar-coated window. “Oh,I’mnot the one leaving here.”
“Well, I certainly don’t want to leave. I was just starting to get settled. Plus, I got here first …” he muttered the last part, looking away from her and to the window.
Eliza’s heart sputtered. “You don’t get to call dibs on the house just because you arrived first. I drove in from London, mind you. It was an absolute nightmare trying to book a rental at Saint Pancras Station, as you can imagine.”
Lachlan smiled into his mug, now two-thirds of the way gone (and still magically refilling). “I guess we’ll just have to avoid each other, then.”
She placed a hand on her hip. “I don’t want toavoid you. I paid for this rental, and I want to stay here. Alone.”
He crossed his arms, not willing to budge. Seriously, did this man not grasp the meaning of generosity or sacrifice, especially during Christmas? “I drove five hours from Littlehampton through a blizzard, my phone signal went out completely, the road disappeared, and I went through a forest where trees literally threw snowballs at me. I’m not leaving,” he declared.
A notification flashed across Eliza’s screen. It was from the rental app. She clicked on it, eager to solve the mystery of the turn of events, but only a tiny circle swirled around and around for several long seconds.
“Great,” she huffed. “The spinning wheel of death.”
She waited several more seconds before clicking her screen off and shoving her mobile into her coat pocket. “I passed by the office when I pulled in.” She marched to the door. “I’ll just go back and have a chat with someone?—”
She twisted the peppermint door handle. It didn’t open. “Seriously?”
She pulled harder. The gingerbread rattled against the frame, but its sugary structure refused to budge. They were locked inside.
“Stupid house,” she grumbled.
Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. Was this how she was murdered? Had this man been stalking her, and now that she was alone in these enchanted woods, he finally had the chance?
Maybe she watched too much true crime, but she refused to be another psychopath’s victim.
Lachlan came up behind her, and she instantly regretted not grabbing a butter knufe from the drawer. He tugged on the door.
“Careful,” he pointed upwards toward the house, casually crossing the kitchen back to his steaming cup of cocoa. He took another sip, resting against the island as if it was just another average Tuesday for him. “It can hear you, you know.”
She whipped around, stalking toward the kitchen window. If she had to, she wasn’t afraid of busting out of a sugar-blown window to make her escape. “Yes, I know it can hear me. I’ve been here plenty of times?—”
Her mouth dropped open when she tossed the sugar-laced curtain aside.
“Um … Lachlan?” She tested his name on her lips, hoping she pronounced it right. She’d never heard the name before, and if she’d been less distracted by the sudden blizzard outside, or trying to discern if he was a threat or not, she might’ve been inclined to think how fond of the name she was.
Lachlan crossed the room in two long strides, coming over to stand next to her to peer out the window. The world beyond them had vanished into white. Snow wasn’t just falling—itpouredfrom the sky, like confectioners’ sugar being sifted through a massive grate. The flurries blanketed everything in sight.
She realized then that it wasn’t the house that smelled of evergreen. It wasn’t even a Christmas tree, because, as her eyes quickly swept over the place, she found not a single twinkling light or a pine needle in sight.
It was Lachlan, and the bite of something warmer underneath, like a cinnamon ornament tucked into delicate branches.
He whistled. “Better make yourself comfortable. Looks like neither of us is going anywhere for a while.”
Her hands were shaky, uneasy with his sudden closeness, as she pulled out her phone again and quickly typed out a message to her friend, Piper. “White sweater. Ripped high-waisted jeans. Pale pink coat. That was the last thing I wore in case I go missing.”
She waited for theshoompof the message to tell her it went through, but the text bubble turned green instead. She cursed under her breath.
Lachlan lifted his hands, as if noticing that she felt like she was backed into a corner. Which she was. “Look—I’ll take the couch. There’s a single bedroom upstairs that you can stay in. It locks. Just need to get my clothes out of it.”
“Flipping heck,” Eliza muttered, her body still humming from her earlier panic. “The rest of my luggage is in my car. I don’t have any other clothes.”
And seeing as neither of them could go outside without getting blown away by the snow—assuming they could even get the door open.
