“Were you going to smother me to death with that?” he points to the pillow and I shrug, like it wasn’t one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done.
“The pillow was the only solid object in reach, short of taking the nightstand,” I croak out.
“You’re not here on holiday.” He leaves me no room to deny it. “Are you hiding?” The intruder continues his interrogation, unbothered by my discomfort.
I’m not going to spill my pathetic life story to him, no matter how in control he thinks he is.
“There’s a smaller lodge five minutes away. I’ll move,” I say, evading the question.
“Why didn’t you go there in the first place?” Clear suspicion laces his voice.
Damn it, he’s persistent.
“You ask too many questions,” I shoot back, getting annoyed.
“I want to be prepared if the police come and question me. When a girl ends up dead in the forest it’s usually the last known person who talked to her.”
I need to give him something so we can get this midnight interrogation over with and I can disappear.
“Well.” The truth is, the other place is a dump. No disrespect to the Duntons, but if they’re serious about letting me use it, I’d have to put some money into it. Money that I currently don’t have. “It’s not necessarily ready for visitors, but it’s going to be OK for me.” I smile at him through the lie, doing my best impression of a totally chill, normal, no-drama human being.
He’s shaking his head even before I’m done explaining. Some strands of hair fall over his eyes as he pushes himself off the counter. My pulse quickens.
“I won’t be responsible for sending a crazy woman out into the forest at night.”
The annoyance rolling of him in waves makes my adrenaline spike and my hand flies instinctively to rub the jagged scar above my temple.
“But—”
“It’s the middle of the night. The listing mentions two bedrooms.”
With each step closer he comes into sharper focus. The expensive shoes, the effortless grace in the way he moves, and how tall he really is.
“Are you going to kill me in my sleep?” He asks, sounding almost bored.
“What?” I gasp, horrified. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. And I want to defuse the tension before mortification chokes me to death. “No! That’d be bad for business,” I lamely tell the floor.
When I find the courage to lift my head, the most intimidating stony gray eyes cut through my failed attempt at humor. I couldn’t see them clearly when he was sitting on the other side of the room and now I’m stuck speechless again. He’s a striking man, a slightly crooked nose the only chip in his polished appearance. Not perfectly aligned, at odds with his curated exterior. I find myself wondering how he got it. I can’t imagine him getting into a fistfight.
A heartbeat later the wheels start turning.
“Wait. Areyougoing to murdermewhile I sleep?”
“I’m too tired for this,” he says with a groan. “I just want to go to bed.”
He takes his phone out again and types something very fast while stepping even closer, his legs almost hitting my knees when he turns the screen. I want to concentrate on what he’s showing me, but I’m dazed by a hint of expensive leather and old whiskey cellars. It’s a heady scent that makes me imagine men smoking cigars on yachts and driving around with a chauffeur.
“Did you read it?” he asks in a low, exhausted voice.
It shakes me up into checking the phone. It’s a message to Valerie.
Arrived at the cabin. The owner is here and will spend the night.
“There. Now I can’t make you disappear without incriminating myself,” he says in such a business-like manner, it’s absurd. It’s impossible to read him, irises of solid gray, impenetrable as the thick ice that covers the lake in the middle of winter.
“The direction of your thought process is alarming.” I can’t help the humor lacing my words.
“I need to rest.” He ignores my dig. “Which bedroom?” he asks, swiping through his hair, ruining the GQ look.
