I zeroed back on her. “Closest hospital is about thirty miles east,” I said, not giving her a chance to butt into the conversation. “Now take Daddy’s car and get off my property without killing anything or anyone on your way out, yeah?” The woman’s mouth fell open with what I was sure was outrage. I turned around. “And put some goddamn ice on that before it turns blue and you spend a fortune on makeup covering it up,” I added, walking off.
I was being a certified twat, but I couldn’t care less about some woman’s bruised feelings. I had tried to help her. She had refused.
So now I was done here. And hopefully, she was, too.
CHAPTER FOUR
Adalyn
Unbelievable.
I couldn’t believe he’d just said that and walked away.
Right back to my cabin.
With a huff, I stomped back to the car and fished out my phone.
The screen flashed with dozens of messages and missed calls. All from Matthew. I—
Shoot. I’d completely forgotten about him.
I scanned the notifications, finding everything from extremely concerned texts to threats about calling the fire brigade or worse, my mother, if I didn’t give any sign of being alive. I fired him a quick text.
ADALYN: I’m okay. Call was dropped and I was out of reception.
The only truth in that statement was about the call being dropped. And Matthew must have been genuinely concerned because in matter of seconds I had an answer from him.
MATTHEW: WTF ADALYN. YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I WAS?
I sighed. He was probably right to be a little upset but…
ADALYN: Stop worrying about me like I’m some helpless child and trust me. I’m fine.
I stared at the screen, feeling like a jerk for snapping at my best friend, but I was still rattled from the encounter with that… man. The three dots started jumping, but I didn’t wait around to see what he was typing.
ADALYN: I’ll call you later—and please, do not call Maricela.
I locked my screen and released a long breath, allowing myself a full minute to regroup. My head was pounding but it wasn’t anything a few painkillers couldn’t fix. I didn’t need a hospital. Or ice. And I surely did not need a complete stranger telling me what I did or did not need.
With a newfound surge of energy, I gave myself a shake and made my way to the cabin—my cabin, which he was currently, and possibly illegally, occupying—as I pulled out the booking confirmation from my email. After scrolling down a few times I found the message. I clicked on it, scanning the contents.
There. There it was. Booking confirmation number. Adalyn Elisa Reyes. Address. Lazy Elk Lodge, Green Oak, North Carolina.
Lazy Elk Lodge. God, that name painted a pretty obvious picture—if one would actually check such things before arriving at their destination, that was.
I climbed the steps of the porch and made the effort to push that thought aside. Beating myself up over it wouldn’t fix anything now. My gaze roamed around and now that I was actually looking at it, I understood why someone might come here. The cabin was beautiful—if you were into that kind of thing. It was tall enough to accommodate two stories and floor-to-ceiling glass windows on each side of the entrance door, providing an elegant yet rustic look that perfectly complemented the landscape.
I reached the front door, allowing myself one single inhale of air before I rose my hand to knock.
The door swung open, as if he’d been on the other side waiting for me.
That face that was all hard and sharp lines beneath a short but unkempt beard was revealed. Green eyes I hadn’t noticed being that green met mine. They were still angry.
I opened my mouth, but now that I could take a good look at him from an upright, standing position, a strange feeling struck me. There was something about this man, about his face or perhaps that head full of dark hair or maybe even the breadth of his shoulders, that was… familiar? But how? My eyes roamed some more, stopping at his mouth. His lips were pressed in a tight pout that almost rang a bell somewhere in my head. Maybe if they weren’t obscured by all that facial hair…
“This was a mistake.” I saw—rather than heard—his mouth move around the words.
I met his gaze. “What do you mean?”
But instead of answering, he started closing the door.
I thrust my hand and foot forward, placing them between door and frame. “Wait.”
To his credit, he waited. He could have easily overpowered me and shut it. I wasn’t what one would consider a small woman, and I was wearing heels, but he still managed to tower over me. He also looked lean. Strong. My eyes bounced to the shoulder and arm that were visible through the slit of the door. A single word came to mind: athlete. I recognized a high-performance athlete when I saw one. It wasn’t the right moment, but I continued my inspection, returning to his face. My hazy brain was about to make the connection. I knew.
Yes. I’d seen those eyes before. That stubborn set of dark eyebrows that dipped low. That long and straight nose, too.
He muttered something under his breath, and I sensed his grip on the door changing. That’s when my eyes dipped down, landing on his fingers. Strong, long. His middle one slightly crooked. His pinky wore a signet ring with a C.
A C. But it couldn’t be. It—
He cleared his throat, making me snap out of it.
I lifted my phone. “Here’s my booking. Have a look and see for yourself. I rented this cabin.” I pushed the device into his face. “Lazy Elk Lodge.”
He grunted something unintelligible and finally threw the door open again.
“Listen,” I told him, using the voice I always employed in press conferences. Polite but firm. Straight to the point. “Worst-case scenario, this is an unfortunate case of double-booking, which would be none of our fault. But if that’s what happened, we need to clarify this.” I checked on his expression as he reluctantly scanned the screen of my phone. “Best-case scenario, you’re simply wrong. In which case I’ll leave you a few hours to vacate and be back later. I have things to do in town. No harm, no foul.”
A snort toppled out of his lips. “That’s an awfully bad apology.”
“I’m not apologizing, I’m trying to be civil.”
“You’re also not the tenant of Lazy Elk,” he countered, making my eyes narrow. “It says there that you booked the Sweet Heaven Cottage in the Lazy Elk Lodge.” He arched that pair of angry brows, daring to look bored. “Wherever that is. Now, if you don’t mind, I have stuff to do back in my cabin.”
I retrieved my phone, zooming in on the details of the email. “That can’t be right.” I scrolled down. Two large fingers popped into my field of vision, bringing my attention to a line: Sweet Heaven Cottage, 423 Lazy Elk Street, Lazy Elk Lodge. “But that can’t be right,” I repeated. “I circled the property with the car when I got here and there was nothing.” My eyes scanned every single foot of property around, searching almost desperately at this point. “There’s no street. And there’s no other cabin.”
And there wasn’t. Not really. But I did notice something else.
To the right of the porch we were standing on was a shed.