Every instinct I have screams that letting him inside with me is a bad idea. But he hasn't actually done anything threatening. Hasn't tried to touch me or get too close. Just offered me shelter and kept his distance.
"Okay." I unbuckle my seatbelt. "But I'm keeping my pepper spray in my hand."
"Fair enough."
I climb out of the car and open the back door to get Rosie. She's deeply asleep now, Mr. Trunk clutched to her chest. I lift her, settling her weight against my shoulder, and grab my pepper spray from the cup holder.
Mason sees it but doesn't react. Just turns and walks toward the cottage, pulling out a key from his pocket.
"Door locks from the inside," he says as he unlocks it. "Deadbolt and chain. Windows all lock too. Nobody's going to bother you out here."
He pushes the door open and steps back, letting me enter first.
The inside is even nicer than the outside suggested. Hardwood floors, a cozy living room with a fireplace, a kitchen that's small but functional. Everything is clean and well-maintained. There are photos on the walls—a dark-haired man and a curvy blonde woman, both smiling. The couple who lives here, I assume.
"Bedroom's through there," Mason says, pointing to a door off the living room. "Bathroom's attached. Kitchen's stocked. Help yourself to whatever."
I walk slowly through the space, taking in details. No hidden cameras that I can see. No signs of violence or struggle. Just a normal, lived-in home that happens to be temporarily empty.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask, turning to face him. He's still standing by the front door, giving me space. "Really. What's in it for you?"
Mason's jaw tightens. For a moment, I think he's not going to answer. Then he shrugs, his expression carefully neutral.
"I told you. There's a kid involved," he says. "And it's going to get cold tonight."
The answer is too simple. Too clean. There's more to it than that. There has to be, but something in his tone tells me he's not going to elaborate.
"And the ranch?" I press. "You really inherited it?"
"From Frank Delaney." Mason's expression softens slightly. "He was more of a father to me than my own father ever was. He took in six of us over the years. Guys who had nowhere else to go. When he died, he left us the ranch. All six of us own it together now."
Six men. Living together on a ranch in the middle of nowhere Montana. That should sound suspicious, but something about the way he talks about Frank, about his brothers, rings true.
"So, there are five other guys here?" My grip tightens on the pepper spray.
"Yeah, but they're in their own cottages. Nobody's going to bother you, Lily. I promise." He pauses. "And if anyone does, you call me. I'll give you my number."
I should say no. Should tell him I don't need his number, that I can take care of myself. But the truth is, having a contact, someone who actually lives here and knows the area, might be useful.
"Okay," I hear myself say.
Mason pulls out his phone and rattles off his number while I program it into mine. Then he heads for the door.
"I'll leave you to get settled," he says. "Like I said, help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen. If you need anything, call. Otherwise, I'll check on you in the morning."
"Mason."
He pauses at the threshold, looking back at me.
"Thank you." The words feel rusty in my mouth. I'm not used to thanking people. Not used to accepting help. "For this. For not being a creep."
Something that might be a smile tugs at his lips. "Night, Lily."
Then he's gone, the door closing softly behind him. I hear his truck start up and drive away, leaving me alone in this stranger's cottage with my sleeping daughter and more questions than answers.
I lock the door. Deadbolt and chain, just like he said. Then I check every window, every closet, every possible hiding place. The cottage is clear. Just me, Rosie, and a safety I haven't felt in months.
The bedroom has a queen bed with clean sheets and enough pillows for three people. I lay Rosie down gently, building a barrier of pillows around her so she won't roll off. She doesn't even stir, just curls up with Mr. Trunk and keeps sleeping.
