“Actually, you’re not going anywhere,” Mr. North says in a calm tone. Just those words are enough to stop me dead on my tracks.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, my hackles bristling. “What do you mean?”
He merely shrugs.
“Look outside,” he says, and I do, spinning to peer out the window.
“OMG, the snow!” I exclaim, my eyes going wide. “When did it become a storm?” I ask, squinting while looking at the landscape. The trees outside whip back and forth as flurries fly across the ground. My car was becoming a mound of white, and it was clear that there’d be no way to get back to Portland in this weather.
“Exactly,” Mr. Nielsen growled, reading my mind. “The weather’s not letting up and in fact, it’s even worse than before. It’s also getting dark, so unfortunately, I can’t let you drive back. Besides, that raggedy-looking car of yours is a junker. It wouldn’t last another twenty minutes on the road, and that’s in ideal conditions. You’ll have to stay here for the night, Miss McKnight,” he concludes. “Tomorrow is soon enough to leave.”
I spin on my heel, ready to tell him off. How rude of him to denigrate my car like that! But then the words die on my lips because Bo Nielsen is utterly gorgeous, his rugged features set as they look out the window. He looks almost like a warrior god, those blue eyes piercing and forceful at once. But then he turns to me, and the air exits my lungs at the openly hungry look in his gaze.
“So tell me,” he smirks. “Are you ready to spend the night together, Haley?”
4
Bo
“Um,” the sweet girl stammered. “We’ll have separate bedrooms, right?”
I shrug.
“Of course. The cabin is snug but it has two bedrooms, and you’ll have the smaller one. I was planning for a maid, after all, and given the remote location, she was going to be a live-in cook and cleaner combined,” I say.
“Uhm, okay,” the buxom brunette stammers again. “That makes sense, I guess.”
I ignore her dubious tone of voice because I’m just speaking the truth. I was expecting a gray-haired middle-aged woman to arrive with a mop and broom, and not a curvy, innocent young girl with hopes and dreams in her eyes. Things will definitely be a bit cramped seeing that the cabin isn’t exactly spacious, but it’s fine. It’s only going to be for one night.
“Your bedroom’s over there,” I say nodding to a closed door off the left side of the living room. “There are linens on the bed, and an extra comforter in the closet. And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate if you could tidy up a bit,” I say, nodding to the dirty dishes in the kitchen and the generally unkempt state of affairs. “I’ll pay you for your work, of course.”
Haley opens her mouth to protest, but I merely turn and leave the living room, retreating to my study once more. I need to focus on my writing. Miss Haley McKnight’s appearance was definitely unexpected, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to shirk my responsibilities for the day.
Besides, I’d been having trouble coming up with the necessary nuance and definition for the main female character, but now I have a point of reference that’s absolutely fascinating. Slowly, my fingers started bringing Eleanor to life. Eleanor, by coincidence, also has curly brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes. She has a plush rose pout with a small pink tongue, and a sassy sway to her hips, not to mention a fiery personality that’s alternately mesmerizing and infuriating.
But then I stopped myself. What the hell was I typing about? I have a pact not to write about my life in my books, but right now, Eleanor was turning out to be strikingly similar to a beautiful brunette not twenty feet away. Why was I acting like such a fool? I groaned, glancing at my phone, and almost by coincidence, it started ringing.
I recognized the number. “Fuck.” Then I cleared my throat and picked up. “Hi Mom, how are you? How’s Dad?”
My mom’s tearful face filled the screen, and my heart sank.
“He’s gotten worse, Bo,” she said, and I shut my eyes. Unfortunately, my father and I have been estranged for years now, and even after the cancer struck, I never made an effort to see him. “Please, Bo. Come and see Paul. He wants to see you.”
I shook my head.
“I know he doesn’t, Mom. You don’t have to lie.”
But Carol was insistent.
“I’m serious, Beauregard. The cancer has invaded his bones, and you know the doctors diagnosed it as Stage Four. You two should just bury the hatchet and let bygones be bygones.” That comment struck a nerve with me.
“Bury the hatchet? Are you joking? You and I both know what he did to me! Not just me, either. Calvin-”