But she hadn’t passed another house in miles.
She could keep driving. Or she could bite the bullet and ask for directions.
She hesitated, her hands tightening on the wheel.
Then she turned into the gravel drive.
The engine idled as she studied the place another moment.
Her chest tightened. Was this really the place where she wanted to stop? Or had she become a snob? Was she showing her biases by allowing the rundown house to scare her? Good people could live here. Good people could let their house go.
After another moment of hesitation, Rowan pushed open the car door and stepped out.
She took a few steps toward the porch, scanning the windows and the edges of the yard.
Then a scent hit her. Two actually. One reminded her of rot—like something had died nearby.
And the other was . . . gasoline?
Gasoline? Maybe someone had been doing some yardwork or repairing one of the vehicles out here.
Her instincts called for her to turn around. To get back into her car.
Her mom had always taught her she should listen to her gut. She’d said the gut was God’s built-in warning system.
Rowan paused and took a step back toward her Tesla.
Before she reached it, a figure stepped out from the shadows at the side of the house.
Her heart lurched.
The man looked to be in his mid-thirties. He was lean and loose-limbed, with dark hair that fell across his forehead as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He had an unshaven jaw, and a crooked smile gave him the kind of looks that might have been charming under different circumstances—if not for his eyes.
His eyes were cold.
He worked a toothpick between his teeth, and his hands were tucked into the pockets of his worn, dirty jeans.
The man walked toward her slowly and deliberately, almost as if he had nowhere else to be.
A shiver went down Rowan’s spine—and not the romantic kind.
The kind caused by fear.
He stopped a few feet away and observed her. Recognition flickered in his eyes then sharpened.
“Well, now. I’ve seen you before. On TV.” A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. “Didn’t expect to see someone like you out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Rowan kept her movements measured, resisting the urge to show any fear. This man might enjoy that too much.
“I’m sorry,” she started. “I think I took a wrong turn. I was trying to find?—”
“Refuge Cove?” he finished with the raise of his eyebrows.
Her pulse skipped. How had he known?
He stepped closer, a smirk on his face. “I figured that’s where you were heading. You are a King, after all. I heard one of you was famous, but I wondered if it was just a rumor.”
Rowan straightened as instinct kicked in. “Do you know how to get there?”
