Chapter Three
Vanessa adjusted her grip on Emily as the big man entered her orbit.
Paul Murphy didn’t make much noise. He’d emerged from the shadows like an apparition, but he was definitely of this earth, as solid as a wall of granite.
His shoulders spanned the doorframe and he stood a head taller than her.
She gave him enough room to prevent accidental contact, and he respected her space.
She got the impression he was uncomfortable with her proximity. That made two of them.
He wasn’t the monster Emily claimed him to be, as far as Vanessa could tell.
She’d almost peed her pants when he’d first appeared, and not just because of his size.
He’d moved with the grace and stealth of a panther.
She’d been scared out of her wits, and she was still wary of him.
Their initial confrontation had been odd.
She didn’t know why he’d been prowling around in the dark, barefoot.
Since he’d introduced himself, he’d been non-threatening.
It was clear he wanted to keep his distance.
She hadn’t been able to study him in the dark.
She took the opportunity now. In addition to a hard physique, he had a hard face.
His features were regular but unforgiving, and he had a weathered, lived-in look about him.
His eyes were an icy gray or blue. With his sharp blade of a nose and square jaw, he was rugged, rather than handsome.
Oh, who was she kidding? Rugged didn’t cancel out handsome. If anything, it added a cherry on top. What woman in her right mind preferred smooth perfection over rough edges? This was a man with a capital M.
She tried to steel herself against his masculine appeal as he passed by.
She could feel the heat of his body, along with a nervous energy that didn’t match his neutral expression.
He smelled elemental, like water and earth and warm skin.
Underneath it all, she recognized the faint, medicinal hint of eucalyptus.
She released a slow breath after he walked toward the kitchen.
Then she stared at his well-muscled back.
He was wearing rumpled cargo shorts and a blue T-shirt that was damp in spots.
His close-cropped hair, also damp, was a medium brown.
She guessed his age at about thirty, though he might be older.
The strong physique suggested youth more than the stone face.
She studied him with interest as he rifled through a drawer.
He had a stern countenance, a sardonic mouth, and silvery eyes that bored through her.
The cowboy hat he’d left on the countertop would suit him perfectly.
Paul Murphy was hot. Ugh.
Could this day get any worse?
She’d sworn off men, especially the good-looking kind, and this one raised every red flag in the book.
He’d snuck up on her like a psycho killer.
He’d seemed contrite about scaring her, but he hadn’t been the least bit hospitable.
He’d shown zero sympathy for her predicament.
He’d barely agreed to let Emily use his bathroom.
He might not be a monster, or a murderer, but he was definitely a jerk.
Vanessa shifted Emily on her hip and let out a huff of irritation. Where were they going to sleep tonight? She didn’t have the energy to drive around for hours in search of a hotel. She also didn’t have the funds for an extended stay.
Paul had given no indication that he commiserated with her plight.
Instead of venting her frustrations to the wall of granite, she glanced around the room.
This place, unlike the horror show next door, was fully furnished and ready to rent.
The carpet appeared worn, but clean. There was a green wool couch by the window.
The kitchen had cheery yellow cabinets and a round wooden table.
She counted four sturdy-looking chairs. It was spotless and simple. Exactly what they needed.
She considered asking Paul to leave. She felt justified in her request, and resentful of his presence.
He was in her cabin.
She didn’t care who owned the duplex, or who’d hired him to remodel it. She’d paid a deposit, and she had a right to stay. At best, the place was double-booked. At worst, he was a squatter who needed to vacate the premises.
She managed to restrain herself from making this demand. She was overtired. He was big and strong and seething with tension. It was better to call the owner and get more information before picking a fight with a grumpy cowboy. If she played her cards right, she’d end up with the cabin, regardless.
Paul scrawled the phone number on a scrap of paper before coming forward. His attention shifted from her to Emily, which was promising. Her daughter had the face of an angel. She melted hearts everywhere she went. Apparently he was immune to adorableness, because his flat expression didn’t change.
Vanessa accepted the paper from his outstretched hand.
She caught that hint of eucalyptus again, faint but distinctive.
It was a common ingredient in pain-relief products.
Paul gave the screen door a pointed glance.
When she didn’t comply with his unspoken suggestion, he took it a step further and opened the door for her.
“Goodbye,” he said curtly.
His curt dismissal surprised her. She wasn’t a vain woman, but she was aware of her charms. Men didn’t rush to get rid of her under normal circumstances. They tried to initiate conversations, not end them.
“This isn’t over,” she said, her eyes narrow.
A grunt of acknowledgment, or perhaps annoyance, was his only response.
She walked through the doorway with her head high.
His extended arm was suntanned and hard-muscled.
She’d just finished her degree in physical therapy so she noticed bodies.
She couldn’t deny that he was a fine specimen from a medical standpoint.
He had the kind of physique that resembled a human anatomy chart.
She imagined him roping cattle as she descended the porch steps toward her vehicle. When she tried to put Emily back in the car seat, the little girl’s mood turned. She went wild, wailing and kicking in protest.
Here we go, Vanessa thought.
She struggled to keep a grip on Emily, who nearly tumbled out of her arms. Vanessa was aware of Paul Murphy’s glacial eyes on her back, judging her as a mother.
She couldn’t blame her daughter for refusing to travel.
She had similar feelings about getting behind the wheel. She’d rather do anything else.
“I want my bed,” Emily shrieked. “I want Penelope!”
Vanessa plucked the doll from the seat and handed it over.
Emily tossed it to the ground and continued screaming.
With a tired shake of her head, Vanessa accepted this as a fitting end to her day.
She gave up on her plan to drive away. Instead, she headed down the street with the kicking child in her arms.
It wasn’t easy to drum up the patience for a temper tantrum at this hour, but she’d become an expert in emotional endurance.
She’d juggled double shifts in the ER along with childcare and online classes, all while trying to keep track of a no-account husband who told very pretty lies.
If she could survive the crying jags and sleepless nights, the calls from lawyers and debt collectors, she could live through this, too.
Emily’s wails reverberated through the treetops.
Vanessa murmured soft words of comfort and patted her little back.
She imagined the occupants of the other cabins peering out of their windows with disapproving frowns.
When she spotted a tree-lined path toward the lakeshore, she took it.
The surface of the water glittered darkly in the moonlight.
She paced the edge, humming a peaceful tune, until Emily’s sobbing eased.
The tantrums didn’t last as long as they used to.
At four, Emily still had a stubborn streak, and a vivid imagination, but her mood swings were manageable.
Even when they weren’t, Vanessa loved her daughter with an unwavering ferocity.
She would kill for her, die for her, move heaven and earth for her.
She wished Bennett, her ex, had felt the same.
With a heavy sigh, she turned away from the lake. She swatted at a buzzing mosquito with her free hand as she carried Emily back toward the cabin they couldn’t use, because it was inhabited by a cold-eyed cowboy. Paul Murphy was standing between Vanessa and her perfect summer vacation.
She flushed at the memory of his standoffish behavior.
He’d treated her and Emily like the plague.
In a way his rudeness was reassuring. She felt safer knowing he didn’t want her around.
Tomorrow, she’d speak to the owner of the cabin and there would be a reckoning.
She’d paid good money to reserve the cabin for six weeks and she intended to see that her rental agreement was honored.
It was a matter of principle. She was done with cheats and liars.
She refused to allow one more person to take advantage of her.
Not today, Mr. Icy Hot. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.
Vanessa hugged Emily to her chest protectively. It was too late to look for a hotel. This was a popular vacation spot, so pickings would be slim, and she didn’t want to drive anywhere. She’d been behind the wheel all day. Her eyes wouldn’t stay open.
Her brother lived about twenty minutes away.
Jackson would welcome them with open arms, but he shared a home with their father.
Both men worked for the Lost Lake Sheriff’s Department, like two peas in a pod.
Vanessa hadn’t spoken to her father in five years.
That bridge had been burned to ashes. She wouldn’t grovel at his doorstep.
But where else could they take shelter at this hour?