She yanked the shade down.
Yesterday she’d unloaded her suitcases from her car but hadn’t unpacked. So she dug through them until she found a sweatshirt and pulled that on over her PJs. She added wool socks and then stood in the middle of her apartment hugging herself. There was no central heater in the place, just a woodstove.
With no wood.
The welcome letter on the counter read:
Utilities come with the rent. The stacked wood by the dumpsters is free. So is the Internet.
We hope you’ll take advantage of some of the recreation the resort offers this summer season; biking, climbing, rafting, kayaking, a ropes course … the sky’s the limit.
Enjoy your stay.
That would be easier to do if she were back in San Diego, where it didn’t get cold at night. Or ever. Where she could insulate herself from her past with a nice, solid thousand miles between herself and Cedar Ridge with all its memories.
Including Aidan Kincaid.
Shivering again, she stomped into her Uggs. Then she opened her front door to peer out and see how far away the woodpile was. At least a hundred feet away off to the left, she discovered, next to two large dumpsters. She looked down at herself; oversized sweatshirt, hood up, PJ shorts in pink plaid with KISS IT on her butt, wool knee socks, and her Uggs. Own it, she decided, and ran down the stairs to the woodpile.
The first piece weighed far more than she remembered it would. She grabbed two more pieces and then the worst possible thing happened.
Something slithered out from behind one of the logs in her hands. At the way she screamed, one might assume that a bear had come trolling along looking to eat her up. But no, not a bear.
Worse.
It was a snake, and it touched her arm.
Tossing the wood away from herself, Lily gave another scream and did the snake dance, the one that looked like maybe she was having a seizure. This lasted a full minute before she got ahold of herself.
Torn between the snake willies and possible humiliation if anyone saw her, she decided humiliation was worse and forced herself to calmly smooth down her clothes. Nope, nothing to see here … Casually she turned to send a glare to the snake.
It was gone.
Well, crap. Because now she had a bigger problem. How could she pick up the wood now knowing that the mofo was hiding in there, watching her from obsidian eyes, waiting for his big moment to give her another heart attack.
She kicked one of the logs. Nothing. Okay then, she thought, and gingerly picked it up. And then another, carefully stacking them in her arms as if they were fully locked and loaded bombs. “He’s long gone,” she whispered to herself as she headed to the stairs. “He went on vacay. Somewhere warm.”
A lie, as it turned out, because the thing dropped from the wood in her arms and slithered across her boots.
Game over.
She screamed even louder than before, tossed the wood, and started to run away, her feet scrambling like a cat on linoleum.
“Lily.”
She jerked to a halt in shock. No. But sure enough when she turned around, there Aidan stood in the parking lot, framed by the morning light and looking gorgeous, the bastard. He wore dark sunglasses and a long-sleeved Henley with a Cedar Ridge Resort emblem on one pec. And his faded jeans, low slung on his hips, had a rip in one knee that she’d bet was genuine and not manufactured that way. Leaning back on his truck, arms casually crossed, he seemed amused by her snake dance, but not particularly happy to see her.
Well, the feeling was entirely mutual, she thought grimly.
“Need a snake inspection?” he asked.
Yes. If she was being honest, she wanted a serious snake inspection and also, at least in her dreams, she wanted it to involve his hands on her. All over her—Gah. “No.”
At her emphatic tone, he went brows up.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, not having to fake the irritation in her voice. She was irritated, starting to sweat, and—dammit—also a little turned on. Stupid sexy guy jeans.
“I was on my way to my office,” he said.
She slid a look at the resort’s office building and met his gaze again. “You work here too?”
“I help Gray run the place.”
This was curious. “You used to say you’d join your father’s business when you were cold and dead. Or when he was cold and dead,” she said, “whichever came last.”
He lifted a broad shoulder. “Things change.”
That simmered between them for a moment, past and present commingling uncomfortably.
“You find what you were looking for up there on the mountain yesterday?” he asked casually.