I don’t care what luggage he chooses to use.
I care that the man’s obviously suspicious of me.
“I’m booby-trapping the living room,” he informs me.
“I—I won’t be in the living room while you’re sleeping unless it’s to get to the kitchen.”
More side eye.
I’m torn between wanting to offer to help him dye his hair back to its normal color and puffing my chest up and glaring at him like I’d glare at any of the usual men who walk into my office thinking they can order me around.
Ultimately, I decide on a sigh. “I thought I’d be here by myself, and a woman can’t be too careful. Especially in new places. If I’d known you were coming, I really wouldn’t have…done all of this.”
He grunts, then disappears down the short hallway to the bathroom.
Which has one door into the hallway, and one door into the bedroom.
Just like you’d expect of a cabin built for one. Or for one happy couple.
Which, clearly, Rhys O’Malley and I arenot.
And that’s when I let myself look at the carnage.
The axe that he dropped by the dining room table, at this end of the living room near the front door and kitchen.
The boot prints in the flour and then across the room and down the hallway.
The rug that I’ll need to replace since it’s splattered with hair dye.
Daphne gave me the rundown on using thrift stores. She’s become an expert since our father left her broke. I’ll find a new rug at a thrift store.
Play the part of the penny-pinching housekeeper until I’m ready to confess my real identity and replace the rug with something better.
A door clicks shut down the hallway.
I sag against the wall between the living room and the kitchen and quickly text Cyril back.
All is well. I think.
His response is immediate.I’ll be outside.
I make a mental note to give Cyril a raise for all of the extra tasks I’m assigning him while it’s just him as my security detail here.
And then I get to work practicing my new day job since I won’t be getting back to sleep easily anytime soon. I won’t get it all done before Rhys is out of the bathroom, but I can tackle the worst of it.
While Idon’tthink about how nice it is that there’ll be a mountain of a man sleeping on the couch.
Being the security I’m used to.
He might be a stranger, but he’s a stranger who’s passed all of the tests.
So long as you consider not murdering me immediately for what my intruder prevention and tagging system did to himpassing all of the tests.
Guess we’ll see if I survive until morning.
3
IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU
