“Then don’t.” He led them toward the bed, and pulled back the quilt. “Come on.”
She managed to kick off her shoes and crawl into bed. Eli slid in beside her. She turned into him, pressing her face against his chest, and his arms came around her. Despite all the questions in her head, she still lost the fight against the exhaustion and was asleep in seconds.
The sunlight streaming through the curtains woke Olivia up, her eyes fluttering open. She stared up at the ceiling, disoriented.
Where … oh.
The events of the last forty-eight hours crept into her brain. Boston, the diner, the bullets, and the long drive to Kentucky. Her keen Lycan senses immediate picked up the pine-scent in the air, and of course, that of the rum, spices and leather. Eli was behind her, one heavy arm slung across her waist, his breathing deep and even. She relaxed, pushing back to snuggle deeper against him.
I wish we could stay like this forever.
A shrill ring cut through her thoughts.
Untangling herself from Eli, she padded to the kitchenette in bare feet. An old-fashioned landline hung on the wall. She picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Oh, thank God.” Isabelle sounded relieved. “I was about to send someone over. No one’s heard from you since yesterday, and we were starting to worry.”
Olivia glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly noon. “We’re fine. We just passed out.”
“That makes sense. You looked like you could barely stand when you got here.” There was a crash in the background, followed by a toddler’s squeal. “Evan, put that down. Sorry. Listen, why don’t you come over for lunch? I’m sure you’re hardly in the mood to cook now.”
No, she was not. “That sounds great, actually.”
“Bo will come get you in about thirty minutes. Our place is a bit of a walk from there and I doubt you know the roads yet.”
Olivia thanked her and hung up. When she turned around, Eli was propped up on one elbow, watching her with those mossy green eyes.
“Who was that?” His voice was still rough from sleep.
“That was Isabelle. She’s invited us for lunch. Someone named Bo is picking us up in thirty minutes.”
He glanced down at the empty spot next to him on the bed. “So. Thirty minutes.”
“Twenty-five now.” Still, heat coiled in her belly.
“I can work with twenty-five.”
As it turned out, he could work with considerably less than that.
Twenty-five minutes and a very fast shower later, they were dressed and standing on the porch when a rusty Ford pickup truck rumbled up the gravel path, stopping right at their porch, the windows rolling down. The man behind the wheel was in his fifties, maybe older, with thick forearms and salt-and-pepper hair.
“You must be our guests.” His smile deepened the wrinkles on his weathered face. “I’m Bo. Isabelle sent me.”
Olivia introduced herself and Eli, then climbed into the truck. Bo drove them past the other cabins, making easy conversation along the way. The truck rumbled along, easing up a gentle hill, and further into the private part of the property. The lone cabin there was larger than the others, with a wraparound porch and set against the breathtaking view of the mountains behind it.
As they entered the cabin, Olivia couldn’t help but observe the inside. It was much bigger than theirs, but still felt lived in. Evan’s toys were on a pile on the couch while a basket of laundry lay neglected on the floor. And in the hallway, hanging from a hook by the front door was a Birkin bag. A limited edition Birkin bag in red Crocodile leather, to be exact, which she guessed would fetch for six figures at auction. It was now stuffed with pacifiers, diapers, wipes, and what appeared to be a backup Mr. Guppy still in its packaging.
“Isabelle?” Bo called out. “We’re here.”
“In the kitchen.” The Lupa’s voice drifted in from the room to the right. “Come in.”
The kitchen was warm and cheery, with red-checkered curtains covering the windows and pots and pans hanging from a rack over the stove. Evan sat in a high chair at the kitchen table, waving Mr. Guppy around as he babbled away.
“Oh good.” Isabelle was reaching into the oven, about to bend over to take something out when Bo hurried over.
“No, no, let me do that.” Shooing her away, he reached in to take a tray of lasagna and placed it on top of the dining table.
