“You can’t stay here,” he says sternly.
“I’ll dust it off. Polish the floors a bit.” I’m a freaking bubble of optimism, my cheeks in pain from the strained smile I have plastered on my face.
“Dust it off?” He scoffs. “The place will fall on us if the wind picks up.”
“The structure is fine.” I brush him off. “You have to look past the—”
“The health hazard, probably rat infested, jewel this place is?” he asks, coming closer.
His disdain makes my scalp prickle and I get the urge to defend Sam’s place. He loved and cared for it for over forty years.
“The roof is good and only a few of the windows are broken. It’s summer anyways.”
Why am I trying so hard to convince this man I can live here? I don’t need his permission. I want to get him out, so I don’t have to watch him turn his nose up at everything. He looks ready to take water samples from the tap and send them for testing. He’s probably a control freak who micromanages his poor employees.
He takes up too much space in this cramped cabin. Combined with the dusty air, it’s a struggle to breathe. Stepping outside loosens the claws constricting my lungs.
Carter follows me, taking his sweet time, strolling out. Unfortunately, he is not done and rounds the house, checking the shabby exterior like he’s appraising it for sale.
“Now that you know what to tell the police, we can go,” I say, to get his attention away from the missing roof tiles.
He ignores me until he reaches the other side and Sam’s large blue plastic container catches his eye.
I’m about to tell him that it’s where I keep the bodies of my bad tenants, when he reaches for the lid and cracks it open to peer inside.
“No, don’t!” I cry out a second too late.
Carter’s pale skin is already a worrisome shade of green by the time I reach his side and he’s bent over, mouth-breathing hard.
Worry changes into amusement at the sight of him struggling to hold it together and not throw up on his expensive shoes. I bite the inside of my cheek, so I don’t laugh in the poor man’s face.
“Let that be a lesson about sticking your nose in other people’s stuff.” My eyes water from keeping myself from laughing, but I reach out and start rubbing soothing circles on his back.
No matter how annoying I find him, I’m guessing it’s the first time in his coddled life he’s come across this type of smell. It’s bad enough to make a grown man tear up.
“What. The hell. Is. That?” He punctures each word with deep inhales and exhales, color returning to his cheeks.
“That’s Sam’s old chum storage. Nobody’s cleaned it since he last went fishing.”
“Somebody needs to burn it,” he says miserably, his poise and arrogance lost.
I can’t help but burst out laughing.
“Why do you insist on living here? Go back to town or ask your family or friends for help.” He straightens, irritated with my stubbornness.
The humor and lightness evaporate, and I know he can spot it but I’m too tired to hide. I can’t go back to the apartment. And I refuse to spend the little savings I have on a motel. I’ll be out of a job very soon.
“I’m not going back to town,” I say with determination. “I’m fine here. By myself.”
I can’t go to Martha and her husband after everything they’ve done for me already. They’ll worry and get mad on my behalf. They’ll cook and try to talk it out and I can’t yet. It hurts too much. I’m too humiliated.
Carter glances back at the house, a hint of displeasure flashing over his face, and then his serious gray eyes land back on me with an intensity that makes me feel exposed.
“I don’t understand why you want to live here.”
“Look. Long story short, I had to move out of my place. I own the Old Miller cabin and this one belongs to good friends who said I could use it.” It’s stretching the truth, but he doesn’t have to know.
“Some friends.” At my incredulous wince, he continues, “If they were good friends, they wouldn’t suggest you live here.”
