It will be perfect.
The first thingI notice when I pull into the drive is an unfamiliar vehicle parked outside.
Well, shit.
The license plates are from California, and my mind races for an explanation. Maybe the previous week’s tenants haven’t left yet? Cutting the engine, I climb out of my SUV and walk up the drive, then knock on the front door. The only way to find out what’s going on is to do it myself. That, or call Maeve. But I’m not doing that.
A woman about my age opens the door, but I don’t recognize her.Thank God.
She frowns and glances over my shoulder. “Do you have the firewood?”
“Uh, no.” My brow furrows with confusion as I shake my head. “I’m actually here to check in.”
The woman startles. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I rented this place for the week.” I pull out my phone and open my email to retrieve the confirmation.
“Well, that’s impossible. We just checked in.” Her tone grows with defensiveness. “We are here all week.”
“Everything okay out here?” A man comes into view and joins the woman in the open doorway.
“No.” The woman glances at him and then back to me. “This woman claims she is here to check in and has a reservation.”
The man scowls. “Not this house. We just got here.”
From inside, several people laugh, their conversation flowing from one of the other rooms.
“Are you sure you have the right property?” the man asks.
“I am positive.” I flip my phone around to show the email confirmation.
“Well, we just spoke with the owners,” the woman says. “I’m sure you must have the wrong date or something.”
I don’t. I’m one hundred percent certain. But my stomach fills with dread all the same. I double-check the email on my phone and show them again. “Here. I’m checking in today and leaving next Saturday.”
“That’s not good.” the man grumbles.
“Let me get my confirmation,” the woman says, “And then we can call the owners and work this out.”
The man sighs. “We just unpacked.”
“Yes, babe. I’m aware, and I’m not proposing we move. Maybe they have another property they can put her in.”
The last thing I want is to involve Maeve or any of the Wilder siblings.Shit.Where am I going to go? Before I can answer that question, the rumble of an engine and tires crunching against the gravel driveway pulls my attention.
Fuck me.
Jackson Wilder is behind the wheel of his pickup truck, and pulling to a stop right behind my SUV.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He hops out of the cab, his gaze full of curiosity as it lands on mine.
“I heard we were a little low on firewood?” He closes the door to his cab, a pair of gloves clenched in his left hand.
The couple rushes forward to speak with him before I can.
“Hello. Yes, hi. Um, we have a bigger issue at the moment.” The woman glances over her shoulder to find me following behind. “This woman claims she has a reservation but we’ve already unpacked. If this property has been double booked, she will need a refund.”
