A slow, Cheshire-cat grin crawled across his face just then, and my heart rate immediately sped up.
He reached out a hand toward me. My first instinct was to jerk away. He gave me an impatient look, and I realized he was holding out a hand to shake. I slowly brought my hand to his. His hand covered mine, giving it a shake. It felt warm, and rough, and manly. And way too excited.
“Why do I feel like I just made a deal with the devil?”
“You started this whole thing. I’m just giving it a better ending.” He gave my hand a quick squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll pick you up in an hour to take you to your cabin, Celery Stick.”
ELEVEN
“Of all matches never was the like.”
William Shakespeare - The Taming of the Shrew
MILLIE: Have you forgiven me yet?
ME: That’s a strong no.
MILLIE: Well, have you two at least kissed? It’s been almost twenty-four hours.
ME: I have a Christmas present that I forgot to give to you before I left. I will now be gifting it to myself. I’m planning to watch it with some gummy worms, Ghirardelli brownies, and a carton of Ben and Jerry’s ALONE. And I’ll be perfectly happy.
MILLIE: Changing the subject?
ME: …
MILLIE: WHAT is happening there? Did you two KISS?!
A knock at the cabin door had me jumping up from the couch and flipping my screen to black, as though Miles could suddenly see everything. I slid the phone into my back pocket and pulled on my coat and gloves. Ben and Chloe had taken their kids to the lodge for some coloring and crafts, which left me with some time to make the bed, do the dishes, and tidy up the cabin for Chloe so she wouldn’t have to worry about the house when she got back.
I tried not to look nervous opening the door for Miles, but I was thankful that my pounding heart was hidden beneath several layers of fabric.
“Planning to stay for a couple of months?” he asked, eyeing my luggage as he held the door open for me to step outside. Once I stepped out into the sunshine (which was misleading because the temperature hovered around eleven degrees), he reached over and took the suitcase and duffel bag out of my hands, pushing the extendable handle down so he could lift the suitcase.
“You should be grateful I left my library at home.”
He looked at me in surprise. “You didn’t bring any books?”
“Just my Kindle.” I decided to leave the two hardback classics I had brought out of this discussion.
“Oh, the famous Kindle. I’d love to take a peek to see what the prim-and-proper lit teacher reads in secret.” He gave me a pointed look. “I mean, I already know one special book on your Kindle that you took the time to read.”
I made a mental note to make sure my Kindle was nowhere in sight for the next five days in my new cabin.
We hemmed and hawed up the sidewalk, the snow making a crunching sound at our feet with each step.
“Whose house is that?”
Miles lifted his head and followed my point off in the distance toward a large, two-story, red farmhouse with a wraparound porch.
“That’s my parents’ house.”
I slowed my steps, suddenly feeling unsure about my stay in this cabin. It seemed odd to be so far from everybody else and so close to the owners’ home.
“Is this a joke or something? Do you really have a cabin for me to stay in?”
“Well, cabin is a loose term. It’s actually more of an underground lair I use for experiments.”
When I gave him a dark look, he chuckled. “Yeah, where do you think I’m taking you?”
“I’m not sure. This looks like a lovely place for murder. Why is this cabin so far away from the others?”
“My parents lived here for a few years before they built their big house. Then, they decided to add some more cabins but wanted them closer to the lodge to give them more privacy.”
“And this cabin still rents out?”
“People stay here all the time.”
“When the fireplace works?”
“Yup.”
We walked a bit longer on the sidewalk in silence. After we passed the lodge, I followed Miles to a road leading toward his parents’ house. Halfway up the road, he motioned me toward the left and onto a snow-covered driveway I hadn’t noticed. A small, wooden cabin sat in the distance, surrounded by trees, a trail of smoke puffing out of the chimney.
The cabin was medium-sized, woodsy, and just gothic enough that it would look at home in a spooky Halloween book for kids. The wraparound porch had rails sticking out in all directions and broken steps leading up to the door.
“Did this house ever guest star in The Addams Family?”
He laughed. “I was born in this house.”
I placed my hands on my hips. “I’m not staying here by myself.”
His eyebrows raised with decided interest, but before he could speak, I cut in. “And I’m not staying here with you either.” I pointed toward the cabin, which honestly looked less scary the second time, but still. “I can’t be here alone at night. I’d never get any sleep.”
He set my suitcase down on the snow, staving off his laughter. “You’ve got to stop talking. There are so many things I could—”
“Miles.”
“Just come and look inside. The outside needs fixed up a bit, but the inside is just your typical late-nineties, dated, over-decorated, wallpapered home, okay?”
I looked back over at the cabin. It was either this or the pull-out couch. Or Mom and Russ. “Fine.”
We climbed the rickety stairs to the porch. Miles unlocked the door, and it squeaked open, revealing a cozy, butternut-yellow-painted room with a plaid wallpapered border. Mismatched couches and loveseats of browns and plaids filled the small living room.
“Wow,” I said.
“Told ya.”
For some reason, I had to bite back a smile. Though the outside left much to the imagination, instantly the home inside felt so warm to me. My parents had had a similar plaid wallpaper in our downstairs living room when I was in grade school, and memories of our home came flooding back. The cabin was small and tidy but cluttered with pictures of moose and bears, and there were knick-knacks everywhere. I took a step inside. Against the back wall was a small oak kitchen with an island covered in a brown, marbled Formica sitting between the two rooms. A hallway jetted to the left and looked like it housed a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom.
“Change your mind?”
“Yeah.”
He walked in behind me, set the luggage down, and closed the door. Immediately, he began tinkering with the wood fireplace. There was a small fire already going, but he removed the gate and tossed more sticks inside. A minute later, the fire had cast a cozy orange glow about the room. He stood up, brushed his hands off, and turned around to meet my gaze.
“Thanks,” I said, suddenly feeling shy. The cabin felt so small with him inside, much like how my classroom did whenever he felt the need to torture me with a visit. Which reminded me that I had a few things to discuss with him about our whole arrangement.
“Alright,” I started. “We obviously need to set some ground rules.”
“For what?”
“Fake dating.”