“The next town’s just a few miles down the road. Just take two right turns. You can’t miss it.”
I look at him incredulously. He can’t possibly have said what I just heard, and yet his stony expression speaks volumes. The muscles in his biceps flex, which is probably a sign that he’s about to slam the door in my face.
For real.
He can’t do that; he’s our only chance at surviving the night.
“Wait,” I say before he closes the door.
“What now?” he asks.
I inch forward and plant my foot right next to the doorframe so the door won’t close if he shuts it, and moisten my lips, suddenly aware of the wet strings of hair covering half of my face. I can’t blame him for not wanting to help when I probably look suspicious as hell.
“Look.” I grant him a tentative smile. “I had no idea you lived here.”
His brows furrow and his expression darkens, but he says nothing.
“Honestly, I had no idea,” I add. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have knocked, but we need help. We really do. My friend, Mandy and I—” I make sure to emphasize Mandy’s name in the hope he’ll be more inclined to help once he realizes my traveling companion is female “—we’ve been driving for hours. We don’t know our way around this place, and our phone’s not working. Worst of all, the car’s stuck in the mud, and we have no idea where we are. Is there any way we could use your phone to call for help?”
“Lines are down.”
Socially inept and not a man of many words. What a fine combination.
I cringe inside, but force myself to smile again. I really don’t want to ask for what he should have offered five minutes ago, and yet I have no choice.
A strong wind tears at my hair, whipping wet strands of it against my face. The gust is so strong I tumble forward and almost stumble into him.
“Would you mind if we stayed for a few hours, just until the storm’s over?” I ask.
His stare turns a few degrees colder, if that’s even possible. Holding my breath, I almost expect him to say no and turn on his heels, but to my surprise, he just nods and opens the door a little bit wider, though not enough for me to squeeze through.
“How long are we talking about exactly?”
“Three hours max,” I say.
“All right,” he says after a pause. “But only under one condition: you don’t bring any suitcases. And you take off your shoes. I just had this place cleaned. Three hours. Not more. Are we clear?”
I want to point out that those are more than one condition, but now isn’t the time for petty mindedness. So I nod quickly before he changes his mind.
“Get your friend. I’ll switch on the lights,” he says. “And you better hurry. You’re letting in the cold.”
“What about—” the car, I want to ask, but he’s already disappeared inside, closing the door in my face and leaving me to figure out the rest.
CHAPTER THREE
Friggin’ unbelievable.
Out of all the places Mandy could have taken me, she’s just managed to find the one place with the one guy I hoped to never see again. Judging from the way he acted, almost kicking me off his property, he was pissed.
Like, really pissed.
Like I-had-no-sex pissed.
I don’t know if he remembers me, but if he does, he’s most certainly someone who doesn’t take rejection well. Either that, or the repair bill for the chip on his car was higher than he expected.
Big deal!
My poor Ford’s still not professionally fixed.
I roll my eyes and hurry back to the car, my pulse quickening with—fear? No! Anticipation? Maybe. Sexual tension at the prospect of seeing him again? What? What! So not true. (Okay, maybe a bit.)
Whatever it is, I know I’ll have to confront him, break the ice, so to speak, and explain why I didn’t take him up on his offer. Maybe then he’ll find his lost hospitality and offer me a steaming cup of coffee—God, I’d kill for one, metaphorically speaking. I’m pretty sure after a mature conversation and getting to know him a little better, this fantasy attraction of mine will dissolve into thin air.
The attraction I’ve been feeling over these past three months, six days, and six hours has been just that—a mere fantasy.
Obviously, that’s not something I’d ever admit to anyone’s face.
Nor the fact that, in my mind, I got to know his body surprisingly well whenever I took out my vibrator.
With the rain cascading down on me, I stop and groan, unsure how to deal with the baffling discovery that we’ve just met again.
In real life, he looks even hotter than in my daydreams. The sexy tattoo snaking down his arm and chest even gives him a dangerous flair. There’s a blurred line between daydreaming about some fantasy guy with a fast car and a dirty mouth, and the nightmare of a guy who thinks he rocks every woman’s world. Until now, I sort of managed to push the latter to the back of my mind. Now no longer.
The dream, I could handle.
The nightmare…not so much.