“I messaged Sandra. The office is closed for the rest of the week.” He stands in the doorway to my bedroom watching me pack, and I feel self-conscious.
“I don’t have a grand view of downtown Nashville. Just that.” I point to the tiny little balcony overlooking the parking lot.
He steps to it. “One of your neighbors left their lights on.”
“How do you know it’s one of my neighbors?” I tease.
“I was wrong. They went out.” He steps back and taps on his phone. “I messaged ahead to the property manager letting him know we arrive tonight. They should have it stocked when we get there. Any special requests?”
“I don’t think so. You’ll have coffee?”
“Of course.”
“Wine?”
“Naturally.”
“Those are the main things.”
He assures me that by closing down the office, we’ll avoid the rumor mill—as if that’s the only thing I have to worry about. Patton Fletcher is a white-hot coal of fire that’s destined to burn me up, but I can’t stop touching him.
“I’ve never been to a cabin in the mountains. I’ve never even been to the mountains.” I’m standing in front of my closet. “What should I pack?”
He steps up behind me. “Those skirts are good. Any short dresses you have. Heels…”
“Oh, really? Short skirts and heels for climbing up and down mountains? Tramping around in the woods?”
“Throw in a pair of tennis shoes for hiking.”
I shake my head, packing jeans, leggings, and one skirt. We’re only going to be gone a few days. Once I’m done, he takes my suitcase and carries it out to his waiting BMW.
“What did you tell Taron?”
His jaw tightens attractively. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. I’ll keep trying.”
“Are you worried about him?”
“Something’s going on with him, but I’m not worried. Taron’s never been a loose cannon. He’ll do what he needs to do.”
Following him out to the car, I quickly type a text to Renée. Going out of town for a few days. Will text Sunday. Love you.
She won’t call, and I decide I’d rather say sorry than get permission.
When I look up, Patton reaches for my hand. I give it to him, and he threads warm fingers through mine. It feels so good. Our connection is so real. I don’t know why I feel like I can trust him, but I do.
Three hours later, we’re pulling onto a four-lane highway with pancake restaurants on every corner in the middle of straight-up mountains.
Looking out the window, I pretend to be thoughtful. “You know what I wish I could have right about now?”
Patton is focused on the road. “A bed?”
“Pancakes!”
His brow lowers, and I grin, pointing out the window. “Oh, look!”
The corner of his mouth curls into a grin and he shakes his head. “Do you really want pancakes?”
“Maybe tomorrow.” I really want him, and my heart beats faster the closer we get to his cabin. My stomach is tight, and I rub my thighs together.