Page 16 of Beautiful Distraction

“No, he isn’t old. He’s…” How can I possibly put my feelingsinto words that Mandy will understand?

Sexy. Arrogant. Hostile. And probably a recluse.

“What?” Mandy prompts.

“Weird?” I suggest and switch off the lights. Before I canstop her, Mandy’s heaving her suitcase out of the trunk. I just shake my headand lock up the car. There’s no point in arguing with her. The darn thing’sheavy as hell, and even more soaked. I can either help her or waste a few hourswatching her drag the thing after her. Helping her lift it, I pull her afterme. “Let’s go. He’s waiting, and I’m scared he might just change his mind.”

Mandy plants her feet into the ground, forcing me to faceher. “Wait. What do you mean by weird? Like axe-wielding-in-the-hallway weird?Did you see blood splatters? Did you smell decay?”

“Just weird.” I tug at her arm again, but Mandy standsfrozen to the spot. There’s no way I’ll get her to move without an answer. Isigh. “He doesn’t seem to like visitors, but he’s agreed to let us stay forthree hours, until the storm’s over. Don’t expect him to be hospitable.”

“He must really be a loner, living out here, not likingguests,” Mandy says and finally moves from the spot.

“Hmm.” I’m glad she’s turned away from me and doesn’t catchmy grimace. “He probably hasn’t seen anyone in ages.”

If only Mandy knew the truth.

***

After giving Mandy a short recollection of how I found theplace—leaving out the six-foot-two guy with the hot body—she and Ihead straight for the porch light. My hands are aching from dragging her heavysuitcase behind, and damn—what the heck did she pack in there? Abookshelf?

“You could have left this in the car,” I mumble for theumpteenth time.

“Ava, we’ve gone over that. Remember?” Mandy says slowly.

Yeah, apparently she can’t leave her expensive Louis Vuittontravel bag in my old car ‘out in the open for everyone to see.’

As if someone would steal a heavy bag in the middle ofnowhere.

But apparently she can’t wait for the rain to settle. In herwords, “There’s important stuff in there I can’t possibly live a few hourswithout.”

I fight the need to roll my eyes and drag the heavy thing upthe stairs as she stomps behind, minding her steps so her new shoes won’t be ruined.

It’s my fault, really.

When she dragged the thing out into the mud, I should havelet her do the heavy lifting herself rather than silently offer to help in thehope the physical labor would help me get rid of my racing thoughts.

Actually, one racing thought centered around one particularquestion: He’s so frigging hot. Why the heck didn’t I go out with him?

It would only have been one drink. One drink that mostlikely would have ended with me in his bed, eager to find out if he’s as goodin bed as he looks.

If given the chance again, would he want to settle thingswith me privately? Probably not, judging from the fact that he didn’t lookparticularly happy to see me. In fact, it’s safe to say he’d have preferred toleave me out in the cold if I didn’t beg.

Ignoring the cold feeling of regret, I discard the thoughtquickly, not quite able to get rid of the ‘what ifs’ at the back of my mind.

The wind blows stronger now, each gust bruising my body. Fora moment, the fear that he’s changed his mind grabs a hold of me. But as Iascend the last step, I breathe out in relief.

The door to the house is now open, and a trail of lightshimmers from inside. I can even smell the heady scent of wood burning in thefireplace. I imagine myself warming my hands on a hot cup of coffee whilegazing dreamily at the glowing logs, the warmth slowly seeping into me after along, tiring day.

“Should we knock?” Mandy peers at me before pushing the dooropen.

“Why do you bother asking?” I mutter, following her in.

What awaits me inside is Hot Guy’s scowl as he glimpsesMandy’s suitcase.

My eyes drink him in from head to toe, slowly brushing overhis jeans and unbuttoned shirt to his rolled-up sleeves showing beautifulbronze skin and dark hair. In the porch light, he didn’t look bad standingthere with half of him bathed in darkness. In the dim light falling in from thekitchen, however, he’s stunningly gorgeous. He’s all so intimatelyfamiliar—as though I’ve known him all my life instead of only a fewminutes.

I squint and think back to the place where we first metwithout giving the impression that I’m staring.

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