“Do you remember seeing me this morning?” he asked.
He asked it as though it was possible to see him and dismiss him, which wasnotpossible. His humble, unassuming nature was in contrast to his buddy on the other end, who seemed to assume he was unforgettable based on her one run-in with him. It also made her more at ease with the blond man even though he was tongue-dragging gorgeous. She nodded.
He grinned like she’d given him a prize. Rubbing his chest as though her small acknowledgment meant the world to him, he said, “I told my buddy here I’d seen you and needed to meet you. He mentioned he didn’t know his neighbors, so here we are. We didn’t mean to startle you.”
Cassidy flicked another glance in Mac’s direction, but his attention hadn’t become any less focused.
Adonis took a couple of steps forward, his hand outstretched toward her. “I’m—”
Fred jumped to attention, remembering his job, standing on all fours in front of his mistress, and letting out a shrill bark of warning. As Cassidy told him to heel, Mac flicked his wrist, a silent command of his own that had her dog sitting abruptly. She gaped.
With a devilish grin, Mac dropped into a crouch and gestured to Fred, who flew into his arms.
Horrified, Cassidy sat up straight, her feet hitting the ground, demanding, “What have you done to my dog?!”
“Yourdog?”
“Yes, my dog, you jerk!” she snapped, not even bothering to cringe at her manners. “Do you see anyone else here?”
The three men looked around as though considering it for the first time. Adonis was hopeful, Mac was wary, and the third was curious.
Trepidation took over again as she realized she’d told three strange men that she was alone, and her guard dog had turned into a freaking Care Bear. Her cheeks flushed with her stupidity. She flicked a glance toward her house, knowing if she even had a chance in hell of beating them, there would be no way for her to close the door in time.
Sensing her unease, Adonis slipped into the chair near her, lowering himself to her level in an attempt to defuse her alarm. “I’m Jason. That’s Grady. And the jerk is—”
“Mac Boyer,” she completed, her accusing eyes going back to the man who had a satisfied smile on his face.
“You remembered,” he pointed out.
She ignored him. Addressing Jason, she informed him, “I know who he is. Everyone knows who bought the cabin.”
Grady snickered. Mac glared.
“You’ve known?” Mac asked her.
She glanced at him but didn’t answer. His words hung between them:Just gonna wait for you to find me. And she’d known where he was—right next door. His eyes narrowed.
Jason’s attention bounced between the two of them. “You’ve met.” The defeat in his tone confused Cassidy.
“Not formally,” Mac corrected him, his eyes still on her.
She scoffed, then coughed to cover it up. Predicting—ordering?—a sexual encounter with her was technically not a formal introduction. Her reaction, however, caused his knowing look to come back as he petted her dog. And Fred was eating it up.
Begrudgingly, she introduced herself. “I’m Cassidy Teague. That’s my dog, Fred, who apparently needs no introduction.”
Mac prompted, voice tense, “And your husband?”
The tone was one of disapproval. Cassidy didn’t understand it.
Jason looked from Mac to her; more pointedly, to her hand. His jaw tensed, the light in his eyes shifted. She could see the mental facepalm.
Cassidy peeked back at the house, biting her bottom lip. She imagined her husband coming out in his happy, carefree manner, blond hair up in a man bun, grinning through his beard, pleased to meet new neighbors. He’d be easy and comfortable, holding her to his side, offering to help out with repairs. But Elijah wasn’t going to save her from this. He wasn’t going to come bounding out of the house with his endless energy.
Not looking at any of them, she reached for her sangria. “Elijah… he’s gone.”
“Will he be back soon?” Jason asked.
She swallowed the dark liquid. “Nope. He died almost two years ago.” She didn’t look to gauge their reactions because she didn’t want to see the taken aback expressions that always followed death’s announcement—thepity.