Page 8 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

“Look, an owner doesn’t have the right to take shelter in a rental property.” It had to be in the contract somewhere. She set the light and bat down to throw on her robe and slide her feet into her slippers. Then, she hurried into the living room to make sure he left.

But she found him on the couch. “What’re you doing?”

He had his eyes closed, his elbow cocked, and the back of his hand on his forehead. “I’m sleeping.”

“Not in my cabin, you’re not.”

“It’smycabin. And yes, I am.” His tone was growing impatient. “It’s minus twenty outside, the roads are closed, the airport’s closed, and my car’s probably buried under snow right now.” He pulled his parka up to his chin. “I’m sleeping. And if you don’t like that, you can make a plan of your own.”

She’d always thought this place had unusually big furniture, but seeing him stretched out like that and taking up all the space made her understand why.

Ifthis is his place.

He wasn’t giving off creepy man or serial killer vibes but that didn’t mean much.

What do I do?It wasn’t like she could drag him out the door. And she sure as hell couldn’t close her eyes knowing a big, muscular man was under the same roof. If only she had Wi-Fi so she could talk to her manager about the situation. Maybe she’d given her the wrong address?

Wait. He’s not a fan, is he?

While she’d stayed away from town and avoided delivery drivers, she’d run into people on her walks. The paparazzi could have found out where she was living. They were relentless about things like that.

Dread slithered through her when she recalled the picnic she’d taken to the lake. That guy who’d kept watching her. She’d been so freaked out, she’d packed up and left.

But had he recognized Lorelei Calloway, the singer? Or was he just creeping on a woman alone in the mountains? God, what if he’d been scoping her out this whole time? Maybe he had a deer blind and watched her through a telescopic lens. Did he peer through her windows?

She knew from a decade of experience that unhinged people came in all forms.

But wait. She’d dyed her hair and given up her signature red lipstick, just so she wouldn’t look like her pop star persona. He couldn’t know it was her. Right? No one would.

“You’re not going to sleep, are you?” His voice was muffled by the coat covering his mouth. “Fuck.” He got up abruptly, that big muscular body as agile as a gymnast. “Let’s go.” He strode back into the bedroom and opened the closet door. “Get in here.”

Icy fear grabbed her lungs and squeezed. Was he going to lock her in there?

“Oh, cut it out. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m proving this is my cabin.” He wrested the flashlight from her hand, knelt on the floor, and punched in the code to open the safe. “Okay? We good?”

He pulled out some paperwork, an old watch, and a file folder. For one moment, he stared at the watch, his fingers closing around it. And then, he tossed everything back inside, slammed it shut, and handed her the flashlight.

“How does that prove anything?” she asked.

“No random dude seeking shelter from the storm’s going to know the combination to a safe.”

As he stood, she studied him, trying to pick up threatening energy but failing. Only when she realized he was waiting for her to step aside so he could get out did she finally step back.

“You okay now?” he asked.

She didn’t know what to say. No way could she fall asleep knowing there was a strange man here with her. Even if he did own the place, that didn’t mean he was a good guy.

The man dropped his attitude. “Look, I’ve had a shit day. I’ve been traveling since noon, and all I want to do is crash. I want to sleep on the fucking mattress that I personally carried from the delivery truck to my bedroom because the drivers weren’t allowed to ‘climb stairs,’ and they decided the one step up to my porch was considered a stair. I want to cover my freezing balls in that comforter that cost almost as much as this cabin.”

Itwasa nice comforter. “What’s the brand?”

Irritation flashed across his features. “Of what?”

“The duvet.”

He sighed. “Frette. Now, can we both go to sleep?”

See, now that was more compelling proof than anything else he’d offered. Only someone who’d bought it would know the designer.

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