I blink. “Birthday?”
He closes his eyes, shakes his head, and looks at me again. What would it be like to have that intense, direct gaze run all over my naked body? “It’s no big deal.”
I frown at his departing friends and then up at him. “I ruined your celebration.”
He laughs, a deep, relaxed sound that’s like a caress on my senses. “Not at all. No bacon for my BLT ruined my celebration.” His eyes drop to my mouth again. “Although the night is getting better.”
Stomach fluttering, nipples aching, I meet his stare when he lifts it to mine again. “How so?”
The corner of his lips tug into a small smile. “I’m seeing you again.”
Kiss him.
“Well,” I say instead, with what I hope is a playful grin, “wedidhave this date tonight already planned, remember? You were late for it.”
He laughs again, his eyes twinkling. “Ah, that’s right. I apologize profusely. How can I make it up to you?”
Take me to bed?
“Perhaps we can go on a bacon-hunting expedition?” Oh lordy, when have I ever been so flirty? What is it about this man?
“Best way to spend a birthday,” he whispers on a low rumble as if we’re sharing a secret. “Searching for bacon with a gorgeous woman.”
Excited joy heats my cheeks, and, bolder than I’ve ever been, I hold out my right hand and smile. “I’m Samantha. Your date for this evening.”
“Tony.” He takes my hand in his, and my pulse quickens. “Pretty much everyone calls me Gibbo, though.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. “Most people call me Sami. Especially those whoalsocall me babe.”
He tilts his head. “Do you have many people calling youbabe?”
Pulse pounding harder, I shake mine. “Only you.”
His nostrils flare. His Adam’s apple slides up and down the strong column of his throat. “Sami, do you believe in?—”
“Gibbo!” Someone shouts behind me in the pub. “Sorry to interrupt your night, mate, but we’ve gotta go.”
Gibbo frowns over my head. “What’s up?”
I glance over my shoulder and see Riggs springing on his feet like he’s standing on hot coals. The rest of the crew is hurrying through the pub for the main exit.
“There’s a fire up on Bushrangers Flat,” Riggs calls. “Apparently, it’s one of the Airbnb cabins.”
I blink, an uneasy chill creeping over my scalp. Bushrangers Flat? I’m pretty certain that’s wheremyAirbnb is.
Chapter Five
Gibbo
Scrubbing at the back of my neck, I survey the charred remains of what was once a wooden cabana. By the time the crew got up here, the cabana and the hot tub it housed were engulfed. It didn’t take long to douse the flames, but burnt wood and melted plastic had turned the air acrid. “Do we know if anyone is renting the cabin?”
Said cabin, located a few yards away and framed by lush gardens, is untouched. And in darkness. If someone has rented it, they’re out.
“Shaw is trying to contact the owner now,” Hudson, Hartley Ridge’s captain, answers beside the truck. “No luck so far.”
Riggs shakes his head, frowning at the scene. “This feels weird. What caused it?”
He’s correct. It doesn’t make sense.
