Page 3 of The Hermit on the Hill

I groaned. "What is wrong with them?"

"They love you," Carrie said. "They had to run to the store for more maple syrup and Cody can't walk into any store in town without talking to the manager about carrying more of his wine or about how the customers like the wine. I'd say you have about an hour."

An hour. I looked down at my white shirt covered in sprinkles and paint and reached up to touch my hair, which was glued to my head with ice cream. This was so not how I wanted to see Sam. I'd had a plan and an outfit all picked out. I might have been procrastinating on that plan, but I'd needed to do more research about how children coped with parents who lived separately and how they handled a father who chose not to be in their life. I'd just needed a little more time.

Now, I was going to have to wing it. And I hated winging it. Ha. Winging it. Chicken feathers. I smiled, even though my heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest.

"I'll try to stop them before they hurt anyone."

"Be careful, Jenna. Call and let me know you survived without being covered in glitter or chicken feathers."

"I will."

Glaring at May, I hung up. "I have to save Sam from a prank attack being carried out by your boyfriend and our brothers."

May paled. "Ah, crap. I told George not to tell anyone, Jenna. I'm sorry."

May's boyfriend, George, had been with her when I'd asked about a photo of Sam's bare ass she'd taken and hung in the local art gallery. The fact I'd recognized Sam by his naked ass had clearly raised suspicions abouthowI knew the man.

"It's fine. It's impossible to keep secrets in this family." Especially when my family believed someone had wronged me. The whole avenging my honor thing was sexist as hell, but their hearts were in the right place.

Phone in hand, I scrolled to Cody's number. "I'll call and try to talk them down."

In the distance, thunder rumbled. I hoped the skies opened up and washed off some of the ice cream and glitter. Better to look like a drowned rat than a hot mess. "Hopefully, I can beat them to Sam's."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" May looked nervously up at the darkening sky. "I heard he shoots first and doesn't care about your reason for trespassing on his property."

Goosebumps rose on my skin, and my stomach flipped. I hated confrontation, and no one had ever pointed a gun at me, but I needed to talk to Sam before my family pranked him. What he said would determine whether I let my brothers carry out their prank.

Forcing down my fear, I smiled wide. "He won't shoot me. I'll be fine."

I took off for my car, phone to my ear, before she could ask anymore questions.

***

My hands shook as I drove up the long dirt driveway to Sam's house. I had no idea what I was going to say to him. I should have planned for this instead of procrastinating by reading parenting books.

The driveway rose over a steep incline and widened at the top. Nestled in the trees, was an enormous, three-story, farmhouse-style home with a wrap-around porch. The porch swing rocked in the increasingly strong wind. A storm was coming.

Which matched my mood. My stomach swirled with nerves, my mind chugged a million miles a minute with all the things I needed to say to Samuel Oakley, and my heart pounded out of my chest at the very thought of sharing air with the man again.

I parked behind a beat-up pickup and stared at the house for several long moments. Everyone in town referred to Sam as a grumpy recluse, a hateful hermit, and I'd imagined him living in a small log cabin or a dilapidated shack. Since he'd seduced me at an academic conference so he could steal my research and my academic credentials, I'd believed he must lack resources.

The fact he lived in such a large, clearly well-maintained home suggested he'd stolen from me because it was convenient or because he was hiding something. He'd played me. It's not like I hadn't figured that out when he snuck out of my hotel room while I slept, but I'd hoped… I'd hoped maybe he'd felt something real for me.

Nope. Not going there. I'd been the naïve woman too busy trying to impress the hot guy to I see what a snake he was. That was reality.

I got out of the car, slammed the door, and marched up the front steps, my smile wide to hide my nerves and my anger. Anger was never a good way to begin a conversation. It put the other person on the defensive because they were offended. Ha. Defensive. Offensive. My smile became a touch more genuine as I laughed at my internal joke.

I knocked, but there was no answer. I rang the doorbell. Still no answer. I walked around the porch and peered in windows, trying to glean some more information about this man who'd seduced me, stolen from me, and left me while I slept. The father of my unborn child.

The house was well built, with high-end board and batten siding in a soft white color, and the floorboards and ceiling of the porch were dark gray. From what I could make out by peering in the windows, the interior was tidy, the hardwood floors gleaming. The furniture was rustic, but looked new, and there were natural wood ceiling beams. There was nothing cold or industrial about the place. It looked cozy and inviting.

I leaned in closer and saw… Was that a knife on the inside sill of the window? And white salt sat in a pile next to the knife. Those were objects often used in Appalachian culture to ward off spirits. As a professor of history and an expert in folklore and the occult, I was familiar with such things, but how did Sam know about them? And why was he warding himself from spirits?

My interest piqued, I hurried back to the front door and knocked again. When there was no answer, I reached out and twisted the doorknob just to test it.

The door swung open like the house wanted me there.

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