CHAPTER2
ABIGAIL
Leaving my water bottle behind on the deck was the most minor of the many mistakes I’ve made in the last forty-eight hours, but it also feels like the worst somehow.
Because now someone else is going to be witness to how foolish I am.Don’t make a mess of things, Abigail.
Nobody is ever witness to how clever I can be. No, it’s only my fuck-ups that are catalogued.
I take a deep breath as the door swings open, and a tall, well-built man wearing a frown greets me warily. “Can I help you?”
He has a day of golden-red stubble on his jaw—distractingly nice—and a deeply suspicious look in his eyes.
I shift the pack on my back. “I hiked through here a few hours ago,”—lie number one—“and left my water bottle on your deck. Did you happen to see it, maybe pick it up?”
“Yeah, I wondered whose that was. Come on in.” He steps aside, gesturing for me to follow. His whole arm flexes, stretching the bounds of the black t-shirt stretched over his impressive shoulders.
I step inside, staying close to the door. My water bottle is visible on the kitchen counter, in the far corner of the space, but he doesn’t move to get it.
“Sorry about leaving it behind,” I mutter, filling the silence. “And for taking a break on your deck.” Lie number two. “I didn’t think anyone would be here.”
He doesn’t say anything. His gaze stays locked on my face, taking in everything I’m trying to hide, I’m sure of it.
He looms, big even from a distance.
“I was surprised to see it,” he finally offers. “This is pretty far off the popular hiking trails.”
On the far end of the lake is a public dock, and hiking trails up the far side of the mountain end at that point.
That’s where I climbed the day before yesterday, and then I kept going, wanting to get all the way around the lake.
I made it halfway.
He frowns when I don’t answer him. “You might as well take off your pack. It looks heavy.”
Way heavier than I expected after two full days of hiking. “I should really get going.”
The frown deepens. “What’s your destination tonight?”
That’s very hard to say, because I don’t have one. Something unexpected trembles inside me. Anticipation that he might demand I stay here, for my own good? No, that’s ridiculous. It’s not anticipation. More likely nerves.
There’s literally no reason for me to feel any kind of excitement at the thought of being trapped in this cabin with this strange man.
A pregnant silent grows between us, as he waits for another answer I don’t have, and my bag digs into my shoulders harder and harder.
I finally shrug the pack off and lean it against the wall.
His gaze rakes over me, frowning as I stumble after straightening up.
I laugh it off. “That sucker affects my centre of balance.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me, which sends a zap of something inappropriate straight through me.Abigail, your instincts are wrong.
“Sit,” he says, gesturing at one of the two wooden chairs at the table. Both chairs are sturdy, with curved arms, but they aren’t an exact match. They’re probably handmade, I think to myself, a weird thing to fixate on—but this is a weird afternoon.
Focusing on the chairs is better than worrying about that look in his eyes.
I don’t move. No matter how exciting my misguided sense of adventure might find this exchange, I’m not moving away from the door.