“Who’re you?” he asks in a steely tone.
I gulp in a breath to compose myself and try to find the best way to handle this bizarre encounter. Maybe I’m hallucinating from exhaustion. But the man looming inmycabin, who rudely interruptedmydepression-riddled sleep and scaredmeto death is now scowling in my direction like he found pubes in his fancy hotel bed.
After the last few days, it’s enough to make me snap.
“I’m the owner of this house! Who the hell are you? Barging in at this hour asking questions?”
He ignores me and pulls out a phone, while I’m left gaping at him. I give myself a second to check him over again, hoping to spot some clue as to his identity. I’ve never met such a man before. It’s unnerving. His posture projects calm indifference, but his sharp features are tense.
My thoughts fly out of my mouth on their own. “You don’t look like a burglar.”
“How very judgmental of you,” he drawls, still on his phone. Is he joking?
“I’m not judgmental! You broke in in the middle of the night! So, are you a burglar or not?”
“Is this The Millers’ Oak Cabin?” He finally graces me with his attention, ignoring my question.
“Yes, it is. Why?” The moment I ask, I get this sinking feeling. Can I be this unlucky?
His eyes roam the cabin, assessing it in a calculated manner that puts me on edge. His gaze falls on my weapon of choice on the floor and he picks it up, twisting the pillow in his hands.
The nicely dressed intruder is stone-faced when his gaze lands back on me. Studying me as if I’m the suspicious one in this situation. He leans against the kitchen island and closes his eyes. A deep inhale expands his chest and stretches the expensive black shirt. After a moment he levels me with a stare that tells me this conversation is taking every ounce of his patience.
“It was rented for me yesterday,” he starts in an even tone. “A woman named Valerie set it up.”
With a twist of his wrist, he launches the pillow straight at me. In my shocked state, I don’t have the good sense to use my hands to catch it, so I get a mouthful of fabric before I scramble and squeeze it defensively to my chest.
Shit.It turns out Iamthis unlucky, but at this point, it doesn’t even surprise me. Heat creeps up my neck and my entire face burns with embarrassment in less than two seconds.
I clear my throat of the swelling unease, but the words stick like maple syrup on their way out. “She probably texted me. I’ve been staying here since Thursday night.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to keep the tears at bay. “With my phone off.”
I press harder and roll my lips as a last resort because I really don’t want to cry in front of the surprise tourist.
“Probably not the smartest decision,” I admit, even though last-minute reservations are not a thing around here.
“Obviously,” he drags out.
“I’ve been out of sorts.” I’m rooted to the spot, clutching my pillow, disoriented by how quickly my life continues to fall apart.
He breaks the strained silence that’s threatening to give me a panic attack, but this time he sounds tired and resigned. “If Iwerea thief my job would’ve been too easy. The door is unlocked.” Then with clear distaste, he asks, “Why?”
“We don’t lock our doors here…I thought you were…”Stop talking, woman!“Never mind.” My bodyfinally jolts into action. I look around for things to pick up, but I’ve mostly been sleeping, so all my stuff is still packed away in the bedroom.
“In that case, yes…I’ll leave you to it.” I spin around so fast that I clip my shoulder against the wall. I double over in pain, clutching my throbbing arm, probably giving the impression I’m off my rocker. My hair’s a mess, my eyes are puffy and sore. I’m wearing the same long shirt I had on at Old Halson’s, creased from sleeping in it for almost two days straight. And no pants.
The embarrassment lights me on fire and I don’t know how to get out of his sight fast enough.
“I’m going to pack. My bags are in one of the bedrooms.” My voice wavers, dangerously close to breaking. “Won’t take long. Sorry again.” I can’t even look at him.
“Sit down,” he says in a gravelly voice.
My knees give at his command, and I sink into the closest chair, goose bumps erupting all over my skin. I blink slowly, shocked at my body’s response and the sharp tightness in my belly. I can’t help but gape at him.
What just happened?
My gaze is locked onto his slightly parted lips and his eyes widen for the briefest moment before his face hardens and we’re stuck in a staring contest once again.
I hold the pillow tighter in a futile attempt to cover myself.
