Page 4 of Goode Tidings

Because she's stunning.

Glossy brunette waves sweeping her shoulders. Pink, round cheeks, and...a horrified look on her face.

My indignation returns. And maybe a healthy amount of embarrassment at having been caught au naturel in nature.

My arms cross over my chest as I send up a prayer that this towel remains knotted at my hip bone. "This is private property. You're trespassing."

Her eyes narrow. Her mouth opens to respond when a kid walks around the side of the cabin. He stops short, jaw dropped, before hurrying to the woman's side.

"Who is this guy?" he demands, dismayed and most definitely judging me.

Pointing back at myself, I say, "I'm⁠—"

"Don't speak to him," the woman interrupts, glaring at me. She looks sharply at the kid. Poor guy. "Don't talk to that man."

He rolls his eyes and takes a step away, hands lifted in petulant surrender.

"I live here," I say, my voice deepening. "If you want to see the lake, you need to go all the way around to the place where it says public access." Maybe if I weren't naked, I wouldn't sound so annoyed. But the fact is, I am covered only by a towel with an untrustworthy knot, and this woman has barged into the most sacred part of my day. "You can't miss the sign," I add pointedly. Because she did, in fact, manage to miss the sign.

This is where I'd expect the intruder to apologize, seeing as how an apology is most definitely in order.

But she widens her stance. Crosses her arms. "I live here," she mimics, in what is probably the deepest tone she can manage. She sounds a lot more like a cave troll than my baritone, thank you very much.

"Are you mocking me?" Surprise has my head rearing back an inch. I don't think I've been mocked in years. If I have, whoever did it was polite enough to do it behind my back.

She drops the act, grinning. "You made it too easy."

As irritated as I am with this stranger, my moronic, weak, primitive male brain takes note of how pretty her smile is. How her lower lip dips down slightly on the right.

Dumb. I have no business noticing anything about this woman, and even less business appreciating said features. It's just because it's been so long since I've, well, since I've everything.

Spoken to an attractive female.

Touched.

Kissed.

Held a woman.

The most physical contact I've had in two years is an incidental brush against someone in a crowded space. I'm so starved for human connection I'm wilting in the presence of physical beauty. You're gorgeous, rob me blind. Let me show you where I keep the family heirlooms.

No. I'm stronger than that.

"You're one to talk." I motion up and down haphazardly at the mint green sweat outfit thing she's wearing. "You resemble an Andes Mint."

She makes a funny face as she looks down, fisting a handful of hair and pressing it to the fabric of her sweatshirt. Her gaze darts up as she says, "Well, look at that. How very Andes Mint of me. Kind of makes me want to eat at Olive Garden." She drops her hair and straightens up, serious now. "Look, this has been fun and all, but I need to get on a call with my boss. So if you could"—she points two fingers straight down at the ground and makes them walk—"be on your way, that'd be great. I'm assuming you're from one of the neighboring cabins, and who doesn't like a hot tub? We can forget this happened."

My head tilts as my brain races to understand this woman. She must be confused. Maybe she's having a mental breakdown. I glance at the kid standing quietly beside her. He's showing no reaction to her insistence I leave. No intervening, or gentle correction. Something inside me shifts, a feeling that goes from irritation to fear. Is this person harmful? Could she hurt me? Herself? How is the kid involved?

I left my phone in the house (a long-standing rule of mine to separate myself from work, which means leaving my phone in a place I cannot possibly hear or see it), so I can't call the police. I'm not sure how helpful the police would be anyway. Ernest is a quintessential small-town police officer. He's probably wrapping up his afternoon nap right about now.

How am I going to get this woman off my property without aggravating her? At first, I thought she was simply a nuisance. Now, I'm not so sure. What I know for certain is that I would like to be rid of her.

Apparently I've been thinking for too long, because the woman rolls her eyes and blows out an annoyed breath. "I don't have time for you," she says, stress plucking at her tone. "Oliver, call the police."

The kid withdraws a phone from his pocket.

I'm flabbergasted. Floored. What is happening right now? My mind races. I hate that I'm without both my phone and clothing. I'm ill-prepared to handle this situation, but really, can a person ever truly be prepared for a beautiful lunatic to barge into a sans clothing hot tub moment and act like she owns the place?