Chapter 7
Levi
“For fuck’s sake—” I held up my arms as a feminine startled scream cut off.
Ripley barked as though she’d never seen me before in her life. Acting, quite frankly, much tougher than she had any right to. She was the reason I was in this predicament, to begin with. “It’s my house—I’m Levi Carmichael. That’s my dog!” I shouted through the window, but the woman showed no signs of hearing me over Ripley’s cacophony.
I had knocked. I had shouted through the door. I’d tried every other way to get her attention, to no avail. My dog was missing, and I was panicked.
Ripley, for all the lore of her prestigious Alien namesake, was not equipped to be on her own, especially at night, in the dropping temperatures, and in a forest where even owls were potential predators. She resented when I left the house, and I hadn’t been able to take her on my errand into town today. She tended to pout by hiding in various places to prove a point. It was because I was so distracted by that strange interaction that it took me a minute to realize that Ripley wasn’t tucked into her bed when I got in the house.
I had noticed the tenant’s new car as I came up the drive, searching for the spiraling woman I met at the shop. She made no signs of life, and I thought it best to give her some space before I introduced myself officially.
It was meant to be a quick trip to help Betsy, but then everything went downhill from there.
I spent too long going through what I bought for the guest, debating if I should stop being such a weirdo and bring the stuff down there or leave it be because any interaction would go directly against the expectations I set and might imply a friendliness I didn’t want to encourage.
No. More. Talking.
Not that I had talked much earlier. It was clear that she just needed someone to talk at. Would she be embarrassed to find out it was me? Would she even remember being in such a state?
Also, how would I explain going to the house but not in the house? When Pace graciously offered to change the guesthouse sheets, I accepted with only mild humiliation. I entertained leaving the food on the porch and dashing away like the well-adjusted adult man that I obviously was .
I might not necessarily want guests here, but I didn’t want them to starve or freeze to death on my watch either. I kept going to the window to peek through the blinds and see if anything was amiss. So that by the time I realized Ripley was gone, it was well after dark, and I felt like shit for being that distracted.
I raced over to the guesthouse. If I knew Ripley—and clearly, I did—she would try to worm her way in. I tried all the aforementioned attempts to get the attention of someone inside before finally spotting the glowing blue light of the renter’s computer and ventured to the side of the house. She was hunched over her keyboard, a blanket covering them both. Ripley noticed me first and wiggled her way out, barking and startling the guest.
This all led me to this moment—the potential trauma of my first, and hopefully only, tenant.
Not much of her was visible behind large, highly reflective glasses and the blanket. But the abject horror on her face was clear. Crystal clear.
And, of course, she was. Even I’d be startled to find a large, fumbling man knocking on my window in the middle of the night.
“Who are you?” she called after pushing her headphones down. I waited to speak in hopes that Ripley would quiet. The woman looked down with a stern expression at Ripley and said something when she finally ceased her barking.
“I’m Levi,” I repeated and held up a palm in what I hoped was a universal gesture of I come in peace to get my dog despite looking like a creep . “Levi Carmichael. This is my house. And my dog,” I added, pointing at Ripley.
The woman, this C.L. Wells, looked at Ripley and mumbled something I couldn’t make out. Ripley blinked back at her and shivered. They both turned back to me.
“Prove it,” she said.
My jaw dropped. My hackles rose. Not an auspicious start to demand respect and set up clear boundaries. If this?—
“Listen. Before you get upset.” I stilled. She said, “I can see you’re already getting your boxers in a bunch. If you really own this place, then it should be no big deal to prove it. You could understand how a lone woman may not be so quick to trust the large, hairy man standing outside her window. Guard dog aside.” Hairy man? Was that what Ruth’s comments referred to? “I’m not about to risk my literal neck for the sake of being polite.” She leaned back, crossed her arms, and pursed her lips to the side.
My own mouth snapped shut. She was right. I scratched my hair under my beanie. Ruth and Pace commented about needing to tidy up for the tenant. My shaggy brown hair was almost to my shoulders now and stuck out all around my hat. My beard was a little past woodsman and venturing into vagabond. I wore Ripley’s HuggieHoodie, which normally provided nonthreatening vibes, but she probably couldn’t see that with the low lighting and glass.
“Okay. Fair enough,” I said and tugged out my wallet.
Her shoulders relaxed the smallest amount, and she lifted her chin in defiant confidence.
The lady had gumption. I wouldn’t have believed it was the same person from earlier if I hadn’t heard her firsthand.
I slid out my driver’s license and pressed it against the window. She stood, carefully setting Ripley on the chair before pulling off her glasses. The blanket fell to reveal a form-fitting henley and a grip of shining chestnut hair in a high knot on her head. I quickly averted my gaze as she leaned forward over the desk, shining her phone’s flashlight on the ID.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at her earlier, distracted as I was by her crisis. I only took in her large brown eyes, bloodshot and glistening with tears, the rapid intake of short breaths that warned of an anxiety attack, and the trembling of her full lips on a face so colorless she looked seconds from passing out. This was an entirely different woman, assured and not taking any chances. To her, I was a total stranger.
Too soft and too hard for this world.
It wasn’t like I felt the loss of a connection that I didn’t even want. I cleared my throat and looked to the side, waiting.
“That’s you?” she asked.
Okay, so it wasn’t the most recent picture, but in my defense, it had been a long and intense year.
“That’s me,” I confirmed.
The beam of her light moved to me again. I winced, blinking back, but tried to be still as she looked between me and the ID. Through the bright light, her face was just a few inches from mine, separated by the pane of glass. I swallowed with unexpected trepidation under her intense gaze. Would she recognize me?
“What was the first rule on your listing?” she asked, lowering her phone.
I huffed a small laugh but kept my face neutral lest she think I was laughing at her. I had to admit that even though it was currently keeping me from my dog, I appreciated her thoroughness.
I thought for only a second. “It was the one about this being private property and how there shouldn’t be a need to interact.” As I spoke, I realized the trap I’d inadvertently stepped in.
She raised one pointed eyebrow and crossed her arms. When I made that rule, I hadn’t expected my dog to go rogue and betray me. At least not so fast.
Her arms fell to her sides as, once again, she looked at Ripley for feedback. Seeing whatever she finally needed to see, she tilted her head, nudging it in the direction of the front door. She scooped up the dog, stepped out of the light on her laptop, and melted into the darkness.
I walked to the front side of the house as the flood light flicked to life. Several inside illuminated at the same time.
She was just opening the front door as I came to a stop at the bottom of the steps, not getting any closer. I figured it best to give us both a wide berth for the time being. Also, seeing this new side of her, I realized that she might be more embarrassed by the earlier interaction than I initially thought.
“Hi.” She waved. “I’m Claire.”
Claire.
My heart thumped once, almost audible, at least to me. The light of the now bright cabin illuminated her from behind and her luscious figure was once again confirmed, even though I was not paying attention to that.
“I’m Levi. That’s Ripley.” I pointed at the dog, who shivered at her legs and did not run directly to me.
“We’ve gotten well acquainted,” she said and smiled down at Ripley. I had a mini-surge of jealousy for something but quickly quelled it. When she lifted her face back to me, she was still smiling, and I almost gasped at the magnitude of it. Her deep-set dimples perfectly balanced a wide grin and shining straight white teeth. With a quick gesture, she tugged the pen that had been holding her hair in the ball on her head, and it unfurled in shining waves down her shoulders.
She was stunning. How could I have possibly missed that before?
“Sorry, I accidentally dognapped her. I lost track of time.” She thumbed behind her and shook her head.
Maybe it was being this close to the guesthouse, the betrayal of man’s supposed best friend, or the fact that I had seen Claire at her most vulnerable and wanted to level the playing field, so to speak, but whatever the reason, I found myself talking.
“It’s not your fault. She used to hang out in there a lot.” A brief sadness gripped my chest. I was talking too much, saying too much. Where were those boundaries I came to set? I needed to get back to the house.
“She did seem very at home.” Claire leaned against the doorjamb and nodded. “I didn’t even notice we were snuggling until you scared the crapola out of me.” The slightest hint of a Midwest accent I noticed earlier was stronger when she had been upset, but I could still hear hints of it in some of her words.
I winced. “Sorry about that. Ripley’s a cuddle junkie. If she can’t get them from me, she gets them from the streets.”
Claire chuckled, her dark eyes gleaming as she looked me up and down for the first time.
We stood in silence for a beat. Her arms wrapped around her as she shivered.
Ripley barked, breaking the tension, which was much appreciated because I had forgotten how to speak, but I wasn’t smashing that skill to begin with.
“Have we met?” She leaned forward and squinted her eyes.
I stilled. Every single anti-social cell in my body screamed for me to end this conversation by any means necessary. I could lie, protect her pride, and get myself the hell out of there.
When I looked to the side, just past her, my eyes drifted to the interior of the cabin, so different but so much the same: a glimpse of the bed, the interior of the house. A flash of memory.
Don’t you dare lie to that sweet girl.
I glared at the ground. Goddamn this conscience. Life would be so much easier if I never cared about doing the right thing or people’s feelings.
“Yes,” I said.
She waited for me to elaborate. I didn’t.
I sighed at the ground before stepping forward so the porch light would shine on me. In doing so, I revealed my full size. I wasn’t wearing the same work smock I had on earlier, but I can’t imagine many people looked like me, safety goggles or not .
Sure enough, as I hesitantly lifted my gaze to her face, her eyes moved over me, widening as realization set in. “Oh, God.”
The color drained from her face. She barked out a laugh, then a hiccup, covering her mouth as her shoulders shook.
I didn’t think I could take any more crying.
But a second later, I was reassured when her laughter broke out.
She collapsed forward, hands on her knees as her laughter rang through the night. “Of course. Of course, it was you. Levi ,” she said.
With every passing second, I grew more uncomfortable.
“I didn’t know—” I started, trying to explain.
“How could you?” She was borderline hysterical. “I basically assaulted you.”
“I wouldn’t?—”
“Do you work there?”
“No. I?—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head and eventually stopped laughing—or whatever that had been—with a deep breath.
She blew out a breath so hard, her full lips blew raspberries. “Can we pretend that didn’t happen? Back at the store? I cannot begin to tell you how out of character it was for me to dump all that onto a stranger.”
I held her gaze. She met mine for a long beat before the color returned to her cheeks, and she glanced away.
Much to my horror, I wondered if she didn’t need to talk more about what happened. Her ex-boyfriend sounded awful and thoughtless. Maybe she wasn’t ready to forget it happened? But then I remembered who I was and what I wanted, and the answer to that was alone and quiet.
“If that’s what you want,” I said.
But I wouldn’t forget. I couldn’t. Her words had imprinted on me. My fingers twitched with the need to go to the workshop and start on my next piece.
“Come on, Rip.” I knelt and started to unzip the sweatshirt that was sewn diagonally across my chest.
I flicked a nervous glance at Claire, who watched with amused confusion as Ripley finally left her side and ran at me full speed. She leaped into the kangaroo pouch and situated herself as she’d done a hundred times before. I zipped her up as I came back to standing.
“Stop. It’s too much.” Claire pressed a hand to her chest. I couldn’t tell if she was laughing at me or with me.
I shrugged sheepishly. “I do what I can to keep her warm. She gets cold easily.”
“I would love it too.” She flopped her hand and blinked rapidly. “I mean, if I was an almost hairless ten-pound dog.”
The image of scooping up Claire and holding her for warmth flashed through my head before I quickly pushed it away.
Ripley rested her head on the lip of her cocoon and sighed, almost already asleep. “She’s a hearty fifteen pounds. For the record.”
Claire smiled again and stepped closer. I looked away. “I can’t believe not five minutes ago, I worried you were a serial killer. No offense.” She brought both her hands to her temples, pressing her thumbs and forefingers to the corners of her face, eyes wide and head shaking.
I grumbled. I didn’t do easy banter. This wasn’t me. Time to set those clear lines.
She rubbed up and down her arms and moved to the side, revealing the cabin’s interior. The wood stove sat dark and unburning.
“You’ll need to start a fire.” My voice sounded angrier than I meant. The shift in my tone was not subtle. I’d never been good at hiding when I was upset. I stepped forward, then stopped when she tensed and straightened.
I had been about to walk into the house. Her house. Cold sweat broke out along the back of my neck.
This whole interaction had caught me by surprise. This wasn’t who I was. She tricked me. She stole my dog and disarmed me with her soulful eyes and raw vulnerability. Okay, that wasn’t entirely fair. Ripley really was a ho for hugs. But I felt off of balance, out kilter. Flip that. Whatever. I needed to get out of here and think. I didn’t want someone living here. I didn’t want to talk to people. I definitely didn’t want to go into that house.
“Like I said, I just lost track of?—”
“I have to go,” I said suddenly, spinning on my heel to leave. “Make sure you open the flue. There’s kindling and matches there too,” I said over my shoulder as I retreated like a coward.
“Okay. Thanks.” I didn’t need to look at her face to feel her confusion .
This was the image I was protecting. The grumpy mountain man. Best to keep things as they were.
No more coming down to the guesthouse.
No more interacting with Claire.
And most importantly, no more making her smile.
Just after I delivered a few essentials to get her through the night.