“Ladies first.”
This stretch of lake shore is closer to Silver Lake Falls and peppered with modest-sized old families’ cabins, similar to the one I inherited from the Millers, and shabby small fishing cabins like Sam’s.
The opposite shore has seen a boom in recent years with rich families from New York or Boston building holiday chalets. It’s the kind of place my unwilling companion would fit in. Enjoying the view from enormous lake-facing windows and parking his expensive boat on the private dock.
The walk is silent as I’m still scrambling for ways to cut this short. I don’t understand why he insisted on coming to see the place before I bring my bags. Carter moves like he’s got all the time in the world, relaxed on the surface, but the sharpness in his eyes keeps me alert. He takes everything in but doesn’t say much before we arrive at the old cabin, nestled in the shadows of the dense trees.
I push the rickety gate and the high creak shatters the silence of the crisp morning, scattering some poorbirds. The cabin resembles a fading photograph with its weather-worn dull brown exterior.
I move forward, choosing to ignore the rough and gnarled wooden panels left behind by harsh winds and biting winters, when Carter’s steps halt behind me.
“See. It’s here,” I shout, not facing him, waving my arms like a tour guide. “I’ll be out of your hair in half an hour. Let’s get back so I can get my stuff.”
“What is this?” The disbelief in his voice is the first time since he arrived that he’s given me anything more than cold indifference.
“It’s not so bad.” I brush him off with more conviction than I really feel.
“You must be joking,” he says, not moving any closer.
“It just needs a bit of cleaning.” I peek over my shoulder to assure him and almost trip on a raised plank on the stairs.
Carter’s eyebrow arches and a flush of embarrassment warms the back of my neck. I hate my constant state of debilitating stumbling around this man. As if God sent him specifically to shine a bright light on the shitty situation I’m in.
He’s so out of place in the small yard, taking in the shabby cabin with his hands in the pockets of his tailored pants.
Who wears business casual in the forest?
“It’s not livable,” he says with an even tone.
“Don’t let the exterior fool you.” I amp up the cheeriness until my cheeks hurt. “The interior”—I grunt, pulling and pushing the door—“is much”—another grunt as I internally curse the door that won’t budge—“nicer.”
The air shifts around me. While I was struggling to open the damn door that insisted on making me look like a moron, Carter has made his way behind me.
He reaches for the doorknob, and I have to tilt my head back to catch the frown darkening his features.
His fingers wrap around the cold brass, sliding over mine, and I’m transfixed by his warm skin and the same overwhelming scent that fills my mind with very inappropriate thoughts. Blood rushes to my cheeks and I’m warm again for a completely different reason.
My body is aware of his every breath, his chest pressing against my back, but I don’t have the good sense to move aside.
Carter’s glare darts to my fingers and it takes me a moment to snap out of it and release the knob.
A strong yank makes the wooden door groan before Carter pushes the door in and a cloud of dust escapes through the crack.
We both jump back and I nearly lose my footing before two firm hands grab my upper arms and steady me against a solid chest.
I don’t have time to register the same heat running through my body before Carter finally speaks again.
“Yes,” he drawls. “It looks very inviting.”
The obvious sarcasm sobers me, and I step into damage-control mode.
“I’ll open some windows.” I smile up at him.
“With a bulldozer, you mean.”
I don’t let his jab stop me from entering and assessing the situation. The last time I went fishing with Sam was two years ago, and the signs of neglect are obvious.
The small living room is dark, dusty gray windows blocking the light. The kitchenette in the corner has seen better days… thirty years ago. I don’t even want to check the small bathroom. I hope Carter won’t get any ideas about opening the doors.
