Chapter Five
Hunter
I realized Saylor was here when I arrived late last night. She’d left paperwork on the counter that had her name all over it. If it hadn’t been so late, and the weather so nasty, I’d have driven back to town to find a hotel room. But I’d left London twenty-eight hours ago and all I wanted was a bed.
She must have been tired, too, because she never woke when I came in. But perhaps I should have announced my arrival before she came downstairs barely dressed. I swear that when I saw she was wearing a T-shirt and nothing else, I managed to keep my eyes firmly on her face. Not that it did much to settle me because that full-lipped, sleepy mouth looked like it wanted to be kissed.
The blazing emerald eyes, however, suggested something entirely different.
I heard a noise on the stairs and recognized the sound of a wheelie bag bouncing down the steps. Saylor appeared in the doorway.
“Hi, umm, Hunter. Well, sorry about that thing earlier.” Her hand flapped about as if she was shooing flies. “I’m going to town. Thanks for the bed, I’ll—”
“Wait,” I said. “Why are you taking your luggage to town?”
“To move into the hotel. I have a room booked.”
She was a piss poor liar. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I am. I have to check in by…” She checked her watch and I found it stupidly hot that, like me, she wore one. “Check in by nine, or I lose my booking.”
“Bullshit.”
She shook her head while insisting it was true. “I booked through one of those websites. The room was cheap, but it goes to the next person if I don’t show. Nice seeing you again.”
Saylor pushed off the doorjamb, her suitcase stuttering like a reluctant child she had to tug to follow her.
“What’s the name of the hotel?” I asked.
She stopped. “What?”
“Come on. Tell me the name of the hotel.”
She screwed up her nose. A habit she’d had since childhood. I’d forgotten how cute it was. She glanced around and settled with her gaze out the window. “I’m staying at the…Aspen…Wood. That’s it. The Aspen Wood Lodge.”
“Like the trees you can see through the window?” I asked, trying to keep the grin off my face.
“Yes. That’s right. I expect that’s why they named it the Aspen Lodge.”
“Wood Lodge.”
She nodded quickly. “Yes. Well, goodbye.”
“You’re an appalling liar, Saylor.”
Her mouth opened, and clamped shut again.
“There is no hotel called the Aspen Wood Lodge.” I was calling her bluff because I had no idea if that was true.
“I might have got the name wrong. Perhaps it’s the Douglas-fir Lodge.”
“Perhaps you’re lying.”
“Lodgepole. That’s it,” she shouted like an eager contestant at a pub quiz.
I crossed the kitchen and took hold of her bag, wheeling it to the corner. Then I took her hand and led her into the room.
“I’ll miss my booking,” she protested.