Page 11 of Lucky Shot
She hasn’t even seen the inside, so her words feel at the very least premature and at the worst—wrong. Just…so wrong. Because absolutely nothing about this scenario is perfect. Not even close.
4
RUBY
“Can I talk to you?” Nick asks his dad in a low voice that doesn’t conceal his annoyance.
At me? His dad? The world?
He sets my suitcase down next to the front door but doesn’t look at me. Which is fine because when he does, it makes strange things happen in my stomach. The man is intimidating even without all the jaw-clenching moodiness.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.” Mike ignores his son and smiles at me. “Let me give you a quick tour, darling.”
He pats at his pockets. “As soon as I find my keys.”
After another few seconds of searching, Mike glances to Nick with an “aww shucks” expression. “Would you mind running back to the house? I must have left the keys there with the cleaning supplies.”
Nick looks like he wants to tell his father to go to hell, but instead he dips his head in a nod and leaves us. The tension in the air lets out like a balloon in his absence.
I take the opportunity to fix my stare back on the lake. It really is perfect. Breathtaking. It’s colder here than I imagined, but surely I packed a sweatshirt somewhere in my giant suitcase.It was hard to decide what to bring for a six-week trip. The longest I’ve ever vacationed or traveled for work is two weeks, and when confronted with packing the things I couldn’t live without – I was maybe a skosh too presumptuous.
“Don’t mind my son. He’s just cranky from traveling,” Mike says in his son’s absence.
“He was a perfect gentleman.” Which is mostly true. Not friendly or polite, but he did help me with my bags, twice now. Aside from making me feel like an idiot, the only real issue I have with him is his general aloofness and the daggers he shot in my direction. Which might have been aimed at his father instead of me. It’s hard to tell where his irritation lies but suffice to say, I am not winning him over. “He doesn’t seem thrilled about having me here though.”
“Don’t worry. You two will barely know the other exists.” Mike reaches into his pocket again and this time he pulls out a key. “Ah, there it is.”
I glance back at Nick, expecting Mike to call out and let him know he doesn’t need to retrieve the keys from the house, but his son is already halfway across the yard.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask, inhaling the scent of pine and lake as he works the key into the lock.
The porch is stunning and goes all the way around the house. Next to the front door, a white rocking chair is angled toward the lake. Resting on the seat is a throw pillow with the words#1 Grandpacrocheted on the front. It isn’t the décor I was expecting, but I’m already picturing evenings out here with my laptop and a glass of iced tea.
“Almost two years now, I guess. Time moves in leaps and bounds when you get to my age.”
“I have heard forty is a rough age for that.”
His mouth pulls into a pleased grin. “You and I are going to get along just fine.”
He rattles the doorknob as he gives the key a final twist and then pushes the door open. I follow Mike inside with one last glimpse over my shoulder.
The cabin is in direct line from the main house. The landscaping gives it some semblance of privacy. Still, the idea of staying so close to the man who clearly doesn’t want me here has me feeling uneasy.
I would describe the general aesthetic of the place as masculine. Woods and dark colors, very little art or clutter. Still, it’s clean and well-kept. The front room has a soft brown leather couch and a coffee table staring at a small fireplace with a TV mounted above. There’s also a dining area next to the kitchen with a circle table set for two. The stove sparkles like it’s brand-new.
I run a hand over the countertop as I explore. “This kitchen is a dream.”
“Do you cook?”
“Only when I’m on deadline.” Which means there are a lot of chocolate chip cookies and banana bread in my future.
“Well, it’s all brand-new. Top of the line, if I know my son.”
“Nick picked out the appliances?” I ask. “I thought this was your place.”
“It is, but he picked out everything.”
I must look confused because Mike adds, “He bought and renovated the place for me when I moved in with them, but it’s too much space. I don’t need the fuss. Plus, I can bug him better from the main house.”
