I shrug again, smiling at Cheesecake’s dopey face as I pet her. “Like I said, I can tell.”
And, of course, in accordance with my absolute shit luck, this is the moment that the laptop he has on the table flickers to life, the video of me coming up on the screen. It shows me fiddlingwith the drone for a moment, then waving as it zooms up into the sky, demonstrating how small I am among the trees.
“Oh, God,” I mutter, pulling my hands away from Cheesecake so I can cover my face with them. Maybe as an influencer I should be more comfortable seeing myself on the screen, but being perceived by him while I watch it is making me feel squirmy. “Please, do not make me watch this.”
“You really were just camping,” he mutters, his eyes skirting over to me, then back to the video as I retrieve the drone and start singing under my breath, the footage muffled against my shirt, swinging slightly as I walk. “Why bring a drone with you, though? Are you some sort of hiking influencer?”
I let out a disbelieving breath, “No. I mean, I am some kind of influencer. Right now, I’m trying to make a video to win a sponsorship, but I normally stick to the concrete jungle. Not really the outdoorsy type.”
If he finds it odd that I hiked through the woods to get here, despite not being the outdoorsy type, he doesn’t mention it.
“Doesn’t look like my place is in the video,” he says, hitting the space bar to restart it and looking almost sheepish. “So you can keep it.”
I don’t understand him. Just because his place isn’t in the video doesn’t mean I couldn’t lead people back here.
Obviously, I won’t do that, but his cagey attitude doesn’t pair well with the waves of… what? Kindness? Something warm and considerate, like affection, pouring off him.
It’s obvious to me that I shouldn’t ask any more questions, but it’s like I can’t help myself. I did spend four years in journalism school, after all.
I clear my throat. “So, if you’re hiding out here and you don’t want anyone to know, how did you get people to build this place? You know, after the eco-engineer designed it? Surely you didn’t do it on your own.”
If it were a rudimentary log cabin, I might believe it. Especially after seeing the way that shirt hugged him, the muscles apparent under his unassuming form.
But this is not a rudimentary cabin. I’m sure it requires all sorts of careful design features, considerations for the earth roof and underground construction.
The sound of his tinkering halts, and it draws my gaze to him. Before he can say anything, I suck in a breath, my eyes going a little wide as I read his expression. “No way, wait — did you, like, blindfold them? Fly them out here without them knowing their location, then fly them back home?”
His expression shifts, and I know instantly that I’ve gone too far. He clears his throat and starts to get to his feet. “Your drone is going to be fine. There’s water on the table there for you. Try not to get on your feet if you don’t have to. I’ll help you back to your car in the morning.”
With that, he turns and walks away, and Cheesecake leaves me — albeit somewhat reluctantly — to follow him, so I’m alone with nothing but the dying fire, myself, and my thoughts.
CHAPTER 6
ROWAN
Idid not blindfold the contractors.
But they were randomly selected, flown out to the site, and tied up in a million NDAs, just like Pete. They were paid handsomely for their time and discretion. My name was never included in any of the materials or communications surrounding the project.
The moment I walk into my room, I shut the door and start to pace.
For some stupid reason, I have the urge to trust her. The urge to believe her story about being an influencer and filming only for that. Her face on the screen flashes back to me, her body getting smaller and smaller as the drone rose up into the sky.
But trusting people hasn’t really worked well for me in the past, and there’s something about her — something naturally inquisitive, something prying. When she looks at me, it feels like she can see straight through, and the idea of that is terrifying.
And she’s funny. Smart.
The last time I met a woman —anyone— that I clicked with like this, I’d given in completely to that feeling. Belonging was a potent drug, and I let it cloud my judgment. In fact, my judgment was so clouded that I didn’t realize how thoroughly I was being betrayed until the whole thing was over.
No, I decide; I won’t trust her. Especially not with the number of questions she’s asking. I’ll lock my door tonight, check the security cameras, and say nothing to her tomorrow when I help her to her car. Even with her left ankle swollen, she should be able to drive.
So, I go through my bedtime routine, let Cheesecake out through a side door — with an overhang and enclosed green space — and then towel her off before climbing into bed. It takes me a long time to fall asleep, which hasn’t happened to me since I first left the city, and I’m not used to the feeling it brings.
When I finally do drift off, it feels like I wake up again almost immediately, though the time on the clock says otherwise.
Groggily, I sit up and try to figure out what woke me, but then I hear it.
Movement outside my door. A shuffling, the softcreakof someone’s weight on the floor.
