Chapter One
Kara
Islid the key into the lock of my late uncle’s cabin and opened the door to my new life. The hinges groaned, the way they always had. I braced myself for a cloud of dust, maybe even a spider.
What I didn’t expect was a half-naked man.
I stumbled back, barely catching myself before I went ass-over-teakettle.
The man stood in the kitchen, unfazed. A towel was slung low around his hips, and his hair looked damp. His broad, bare chest was dusted with hair, and covered in a solid layer of muscle.
I fumbled until I got a grip on the tiny canister of pepper spray attached to my key ring. “What are you doing in my house?”
He crossed his arms over his bare pecs. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“And why are you naked?” I asked, gesturing with the pepper spray.
His mouth twitched. “I’m half-naked. And again, this is my house.”
He leaned a hip against the scarred butcher block counter, casual and annoyingly gorgeous. I tried not to notice how the towel pulled tighter across the curve of his ass as he shifted his weight.
Focus, Kara.
“It’s weird to be half-naked in the kitchen,” I snapped.
“It’s weird to burst into my cabin uninvited.”
We glared at each other; I had to look up since he stood a head taller. My pulse thudded in my ears, and I tightened my grip on the pepper spray as my hands started to sweat.
“My uncle left me this cabin in his will,” I shot back. “Hence why I have the key.”
He picked up a mug from the counter and took a slow sip. I could smell the coffee from where I stood. I could really use a cup about now.
“Well, if your uncle is Walter Dorsey, then he left it to me.”
I lowered the pepper spray an inch. “Why would he do that?”
He shrugged one well-muscled shoulder. “Maybe because I was living here and caring for him when he passed.”
Guilt bloomed under my ribs, thick and hot.
I hadn’t been here.
I’d been drowning in divorce paperwork and all the emotional crap that came with it. By the time the divorce was finalized, Uncle Walt was gone.
That had been two months ago, and I was just now feeling up to starting over.
There was a click of nails on the hard floor, and Tuck, my uncle’s dog, came to stand beside the stranger, wagging his tail.
Tuck’s clear stamp of approval was reassuring. Then again,he liked everyone, except cats and coyotes. I lowered my pepper spray and squatted down, my leg muscles pushing at my leggings. Tuck came padding over, more slowly than the last time I’d visited a few years ago. I ran my hands through his familiar off-white fur. “Hi buddy,” I cooed.
The stranger watched with a smirk, then seemed to shake himself out of it. “I’m going to put on some pants,” he said. “Then we can talk.”
He brushed past me, towel tucked securely around him, and padded down the hall. I watched his retreating form for maybe one second too long.
The divorce had been hell, but it seemed my sex drive was still intact. Tuck’s nose poking my hand pulled my gaze away from the stranger. I scanned my eyes over the interior of the cabin as I scratched his ears. It hadn’t changed. Everything was neat and tidy, if a little stark. Small living room and kitchen with furniture that was older than I was. Log walls that had cracked with time but never failed. I knew down the hall there were two bedrooms, one bathroom, and one very tempting stranger.
I pushed that thought away.
