“I know what you meant,” I said with a shrug. “And I must decline. Being shanked by a little bird like you is not on my priority list.” I placed the shoe I’d retrieved from outside on the floor. “Not today, at least.”
She froze for an instant before rolling her eyes, but I didn’t miss the way her throat and cheeks flushed. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean. Shanked. Plus, I’m not little. Or a bird.”
I took a few steps forward, dropping my mug on some eggshell-colored cabinet in what I supposed was a kitchenette. Christ. This place was in worse shape than I’d thought. “Listen, I’ve come in here to extend a temporary peace treaty, okay?”
She eyed me with a skeptical expression, her gaze traveling up and down my body. “Why would you do that? I didn’t even apologize for yesterday.”
“Are you actually sorry?”
A defeated puff of air left her. “I was having a particularly horrible day.”
“Well, then. Consider your very poor and much too late apology accepted.”
I ignored the sound leaving Adalyn and stepped further into the cabin. The wood creaked under my feet as I gave my surroundings a quick glance. Every surface was clean, and there were marks on the floors as if heavy furniture had been moved around. I wondered who in the world had decided to repurpose this shack into a holiday accommodation. Someone who hadn’t been here, clearly.
I extended my arms. “I can see how this cabin is a problem. It would be for anyone who has minimal living standards. But I can’t have you camping out in your car. It starts by sleeping in there one night, turns into two, and then by the end of the week you’ll eventually be careless, leave food out and attract some wild animal.”
That got her attention. “A wild animal? Like a bear… or something like that?”
“Black bears are not exactly rare in this area.” She paled, and I took the chance to continue. “And I can’t risk that. I have a family to look after, okay?” And I couldn’t seem to keep Willow indoors.
“Oh,” she breathed out, and to my complete surprise, her face… softened. Her lips parted, relaxed, and a light shade of pink filled up her whole face. “I didn’t know, I never read or heard that you were married. Or had kids.”
“I don’t.”
She looked at me like she wanted to ask about the specifics, but she only bit her lip.
I ripped my eyes off her mouth and busied myself with every tacky piece of furniture around her. “Do you think this is a scam?” I pointed with my head at the bed, although I meant the whole place. “Or just an honest-to-God crime against décor?”
“Maybe a mix of both?”
“Well, I hope whoever booked this for you is at the very least fired now.”
“How do you know I didn’t book this myself?”
I glanced back at her, finding her eyebrows knotted. She absently touched her forehead and flinched slightly. My voice turned hard. “Did you get that checked?”
“It’s not my assistant’s fault,” she said, ignoring my last comment. “At least I don’t think so. And it’s not like I’m in a position to fire anyone right now anyway.”
“The banishment?”
Instead of answering, she averted her eyes. “The cabin will be fine. This is all fine, really.”
“You could have fooled me. You could have fooled that bed for that matter.”
We stayed in silence for a long moment, and to my complete surprise it wasn’t charged or filled with that hasty and explosive tension that had accompanied every conversation before. I looked at Adalyn, who was quietly staring at the bed, seemingly lost in thought.
A soft hum left her, and when she spoke, I couldn’t tell if she was actually realizing that. “I can’t believe I used to dream about one of those when I was kid.”
“You did?” I murmured, curious enough.
She seemed startled, maybe even a little bashful about her confession, but she didn’t take it back. “Yes. It’s too bad this one’s infested.”
“Infested?”
All of that softness vanished. “Why do you think I was sleeping in my car?”
This cabin was an atrocity, a sick joke, and I knew that, but now all that inexplicable exasperation I’d been experiencing flared back to life. Jesus. So much for that comfortable silence. “Because you’re a spoiled daddy’s girl who can’t bear the thought of less than a five-star hotel?”
In truth, I hated saying that. But a part of me had pushed me to. A part that I didn’t understand. The part that wanted nothing to do with her.
All that fire I’d seen earlier reignited behind her eyes. “You know nothing about me.”
And you know too much about me, I wanted to say. But I extended my arm and held up my palm. “Give me your phone.”
She blinked. “Do you even know any normal social cues? I thought I could be difficult but you’re impossible.”
“I surely am. Impossibly annoyed.” I wiggled my fingers. “Phone. I’ll text my number from yours.”
“And why in the world would I want your number?”
I could think of about a hundred reasons, none of which I looked forward to, but I’d offered her a goddamn truce. And I wasn’t a monster. “I’ll forward you Lazy Elk Lodge’s contact information when I’m back to my cabin. The one I was given. Ring them and say you’re calling on my behalf if you want them to act faster. Ask them to refurbish the cottage.”
Her lips popped right open, shaping a wide O.
“Say you’re my assistant, if you will,” I continued. “Complain about some crazy neighbor living in a toolshed and wreaking havoc. I’m sure that’ll get their attention.”
Her gaze jumped between my face and extended palm a couple of times.
“I don’t have all day,” I told her. “And I’m helping you.”
“By calling me spoiled and being a smug, self-conceited p—” She stopped herself.
“Prick. You can say it out loud, darling.” I stepped closer. “Now, phone.”
She blew a gulp of air through her lips. “It’s in my car.”
“Christ,” I whispered, producing mine from a pocket, unlocking it and offering it to her. “Save your number in mine then. I’ll text you.”
Her hand hesitated but then she snatched the phone from my grasp, her fingers grazing the back of my hand briefly but managing to make me notice the touch. Her cheeks flushed and she said, gaze cast down, “I still don’t trust you. And if this is some way to play some tricks or pranks on me I…” She trailed off for a second, something crossing her expression. “Save yourself the trouble.”
The blood in my veins froze.
“Look up at me, please,” I told her, and my voice was low and deliberately hard. “Do I look like some dumb college boy to you?”
That blush turned into an intense shade of pink. She frowned but shook her head.
“Do I look like I have nothing better to do than play little pranks on you?” I stepped closer, making sure she met my gaze. She gave me another shake. “That’s right. Because I might not like you, and you might not like me in return, but I promise you, Adalyn, I’m too old to waste my time in pointless things like tricking you for sport.”
Her throat worked, dragging my eyes there for an instant.
I returned my gaze to hers. “I only play when there’s something worth winning. So save your number in my contacts and hand over the phone. The sooner you realize this is all Green Oak has to offer, the sooner you’ll be out of this town.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Adalyn
My Flames credentials had been suspended.
I hit the key again, balancing the laptop on my knees as I sat on the bleachers.
Your username or password do not match any user in our system.
I reentered everything again, refreshed the portal, disconnected and connected the laptop to the hotspot on my phone. Same message.
My stomach twisted.
This couldn’t be happening. Not without a warning of some kind. This…
“Miss Adalyn?”