Chapter 1 #2
But they ignored the nightmare of liability issues that would haunt them when something inevitably failed. Homeowners like this were the ones who found their claims denied, and they often were the ones who really needed an approval. It always broke my heart.
This was exactly the kind of property that made my job difficult.
Who would have guessed I’d end up staying in one?
But it was this or sleep in my car, and the temperature was dropping fast.
I grabbed my bags and ran for the porch, ducking my head as if that would protect me from the rain.
My heels sank into the mud with every step and by the time I reached the door, I was shivering so hard my teeth chattered.
I knocked, and when the door swung open, every coherent thought I’d ever had scattered straight out of my brain.
Two big dogs barked loudly and swirled around my feet. But I ignored them because a hulking mountain beast opened the door, wearing worn flannel and surly good looks.
He filled the door frame, sporting a thick, burly beard with the scent of cedar and sawdust clinging to him. Small-town living had never looked so good.
Hi, Clay-baby. Damn, you look fine.
Now I understood the flirty lilt that had slipped into Shelly’s voice when she’d talked to the man on the phone.
Clayton was tall. That was the first thing I noticed about him because I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
Those dark, moody eyes assessed me in moments, then dropped to my blazer and caught on the company logo embroidered on the breast pocket.
His expression instantly went from guarded to cold.
“Insurance, huh.” It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.
I straightened instinctively, pulling my professional armor around me like a shield. “That’s right, Rachel Williams of HomeGuard Insurance. The lodge called about a room.”
“They did.” He didn’t move from the doorway.
Clayton growled, “Insurance usually means someone’s about to get shorted.”
“Or that someone’s trying to bill for a gold-plated roof,” I snapped back. The words came out sharper than I intended, but I was tired of being looked at like I was the enemy. That vibe followed me to every town I visited.
His jaw tightened beneath his beard. For a long moment, we just stared at each other, and I was acutely aware of the rain soaking through my blazer, and the way his eyes kept drifting down my body before snapping back to my face.
“Should I go?” I asked as I patted my wet hair, trying to make sure my bun hadn’t come loose. Even while drenched, I wanted to look put together.
He gave me one more look, slow and deliberate this time, taking in my wet clothes and my overnight bag clutched in my hands.
Something shifted in his expression, though I couldn’t have said what.
“No.” Clayton eyed me hard. “Stay.”
His words were spoken in a gravel-hard voice that told me he was the kind of man who was used to being in charge.
He took a measured step back, and I followed him in.
As he turned I saw that he had long, shaggy hair tied back with what looked like a leather cord. It was the kind of hairstyle most guys grew out of before they graduated college.
This man seemed to have skipped that stage despite being in what looked like his late thirties. But I guess it doesn’t matter what kind of hairstyle a man has when he lives somewhere as remote as Red Oak Mountain.
I visited a lot of rural areas, but this place had practically fallen off the map.
Even though Clayton’s home was humble, it was a relief to be in a warm house out of the rain. I took a hasty glance around as he led me down a narrow hallway to a small bedroom at the back of the house.
The house wasn’t really decorated in the traditional sense. Everything looked utilitarian.
But an old couch that sat in the living room caught my eye.
It was a tragic Early Americana holdover from the 1980s, in all its country glory. It had an autumn harvest color scheme with an old watermill design surrounded by flowers.
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” he asked as he showed me the room I’d rented for the night.
“Oh, I think my parents had that same couch when I was growing up. I never thought I’d see one like that again. It’s a real relic.”
He scratched his beard lightly and scowled at me. “It came with the house.”
“Mm, it’s lovely,” I added, hoping he didn’t think I was laughing at his home. I’d just been so startled to see it.
I turned my attention to the bedroom he’d led me to.
The bed was neatly made, and the furniture sparse but clean. It would do for one night.
“Bathroom’s across the hall,” he rumbled. “Kitchen’s at the front if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
The window rattled in its frame as he turned to go, wind gusting against the glass.
I shivered as I looked out into the dark, rainy night. “The storm’s really picking up.”
He paused in the doorway, his bulk blocking most of the light from the hall. “This little storm? This is just a baby. We get some serious downpours on Red Oak Mountain. Mother nature likes to keep us on our toes up here. It’s the cost of living in paradise.”
My mouth dropped open as I tried to figure out how to respond to that.
Paradise?
From what I’d seen of the town, it was exactly the kind of place I’d fled earlier in life. Who would willingly choose to live in a backwater town like this?
Evidently, a man like him. I studied Clayton, surprised to notice he appeared to be studying me, too.
Then his voice lowered, deeper than before, and his eyes flicked away. “I’ll leave you to it.” He nodded once and turned to leave.
“Wait!”
Clayton turned back again, curiosity in his eyes.
Pulling out my purse, I shuffled around for my wallet, then pulled out a crisp bill. “Can you break a hundred?”
“Uh… I can get change for you in the morning.”
“That will work. Thanks again for the room!” I said, more cheerfully than before, but my attempt at being casual didn’t seem to land. It never did.
Then he was gone, and the warmth of his gaze disappeared with him.
I unpacked stiffly, hyperaware of every sound in the house. I hated staying in inhabited rentals, and I avoided it whenever possible.
There was nothing like having my own space while I was on the road. My hotel rooms were my sanctuary in life, always changing, but forever present.
Here, I was surrounded by Clayton.
His presence was in everything in this house. I could hear his footsteps in the hallway, followed by a door closing somewhere as I changed out of my wet clothes and into a brand new pajama set.
Kicking off my high heels had never felt better.
Even though I desperately wanted to take a bath to warm up, or even a shower, I wasn’t going to do that tonight. I felt too out of sorts.
Not that Clayton scared me. He didn’t.
But he’d given me strong you’re-the-bad-guy vibes.
I was used to getting that kind of reception from the homeowners I met. I didn’t need it in my off hours, too.
Nobody loves a claims adjuster.
A floorboard creaked as he moved through a room down the hall, and then I heard the sound of clanking metal. The man must be tinkering with something.
I needed to get my mind off the grumpy hottie and finish my work for the day. I still had reports to submit.
Shoving on socks, I hopped into bed, pulling the blankets over my lap. Then I cleaned my glasses before popping them back on my face.
The temperature in the bedroom dropped steadily as I worked, my laptop balanced on my knees as I finished the reports for the claims I’d assessed earlier that day.