Chapter 2 #3
They’ve been looking forward to this place, warts and all.
Honestly, so have I.
After the mess with the company—never mind the divorce, the months of stress—I haven’t taken them on a real fishing trip since they were knee-high.
My boy hasn’t said it, but I know he misses being on the water. Now, knowing we might get kicked to the curb, the disappointment on his face knifes me in the gut.
One more letdown.
One more cruel punt from life, which hasn’t been kind lately.
“It’ll be cool. I bet we go camping,” he tells Sophie, tugging her toward the stairs to sit on the bottom step.
He knows it bothers her to stand for too long, so he sits to give her an excuse to sit as well.
Damn. They’re such good kids.
How do I figure this out when I’ve kicked a nest of bees?
The past few months have been hectic.
Difficult.
This was supposed to be our hard-earned break with the world.
Even that’s slipping through my fingers by the second.
A door closes and the sound of footsteps on wood announces Margot’s return to the kitchen.
I wipe the brooding off my face and go to meet her near the pantry.
One look at the expression on the cold, hard, annoyingly beautiful line of her lips says my fate is sealed.
Boned.
I don’t have the energy for this, especially if I don’t have a leg to stand on legally and this is her property now.
I’ve done enough arguing for one lifetime.
I clear my throat.
“All right, I get it. Nobody needs more trouble. This is your castle and you expected to find it empty. We haven’t even unpacked much yet—just give us an hour and we’ll hit the road. Deal?”
Her pale brows arch.
An oddly elegant gesture, more put together than the suitcases piled haphazardly in the front room suggests.
“Where will you go? You said it yourself, Bar Harbor’s booked like crazy this time of year.”
“There’s always somewhere. It’s not your problem.” I shrug.
“But… do you even live in Maine?”
“New York, Scarsdale. Long drive back, but I’m sure we can crash somewhere.”
Her face drops.
“Sounds pretty rough with kids.” Her tone isn’t unsympathetic.
The empathy catches me off guard.
Do we really have a chance?
I fully expected the ice princess treatment until the second we rolled down the driveway, and probably a parting ‘fuck you’ for treading on her little kingdom.
“We’ll manage,” I say gruffly.
Her frown deepens. “There’s nowhere else… You said it yourself. How long did it take you to get here?”
“Eight or nine hours with a couple stops. Got a real early start.”
“Oh, crap.” She sucks her bottom lip.
Like I need a reminder.
“What else do you suggest, lady? I’m offering to get out of your hair.” I’m losing my patience.
“Dad, can we stay?” Dan calls impatiently from the other room.
I look back just as I hear Sophie smack him.
Margot leans against the wall, her arms folded, her face lost in contemplation.
“Why not,” she says with a sigh. “I know how hard it can be to find rentals in these parts, especially in the fall. This place is massive anyway. I won’t use all four bedrooms.”
“So we can stay?” Dan whoops from the great room.
“Weren’t you listening? We can stay!” This time, it’s Sophie.
She claps her hand over her mouth like she’s shocked at the sound of her own voice.
I am, too.
It’s not often she gets this worked up, especially in front of a stranger.
That tells me this place means more to her than I realized, and it slams my heart like a brick.
“You can stay,” Margot confirms. “As long as you don’t mind sharing a room and the kitchen.”
“That’s very generous—” I start, but the kids leap up from where they’re sitting on the stairs and sprint for the back door.
Dan flings it open until it bangs against the doorstopper.
He holds it open for Sophie, and they’re already gone before I can tell them to slow down and be careful.
Lovely.
“That won’t happen again,” I promise quickly. “If I can, I’ll patch up a few things around here.”
“No, don’t put yourself out. They’re nice kids,” she says, watching them as they go bounding across the lawn to the lake. “Sophie and…?”
“Daniel. Dan for short.”
“They look like twins!”
“They are.”
She shrugs and pushes off from the wall.
“Well, feel free to settle in and unpack. I don’t need more than a room, really.”
“Thank you,” I say cautiously.
This is fucking new.
Sharing our vacation rental with a strange woman who owns the place wasn’t the plan, but it’s sure as hell better than being turned out with nowhere to go at the last minute. The place is huge, and as long as it’s safer than that staircase, we can handle a little extra company.
“You’re sure about this, Miss Blackthorn?”
“Totally.” Margot waves a hand. “How could I disappoint them? I remember how excited I’d get when I was that age. Anyway, I’m just here for work and to check in on the property. I’ll do a full walk-through to make sure there are no other hazards lurking around.”
Fine.
Time to make the best of this crisis-averted situation. I stick out my hand.
“Thank you. I mean that sincerely. I’m Kane Saint.”
“Saint?” She snorts with amusement. “I like Dadzilla better.”
My brows pull down.
That makes one of us.
After a second’s hesitation, she slips her fingers into mine.
Slim, smooth hands, slightly cool to the touch.
My blood sparks at her touch. I drop her hand like she’s four hundred degrees.
“That’s my name. Even if I’m more of a sinner at heart,” I say flatly.
She laughs again, blushing.
I wish I were joking.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. But your name sounds familiar.”
“I get that a lot.” I look away, hoping she doesn’t connect my name to my career. Hell, any of them.
She cocks her head slightly, staring more intently than before.
“I dunno. I feel like I know you from somewhere. It’ll come to me, though.”
I hope it doesn’t.
If I have my way, she’ll never figure it out.
I came here to keep a low profile.
I’ve had enough fame and bullshit pity I don’t deserve for one lifetime.
“Do you have a favorite room? We’ll give you top choice, of course,” I say.
The kids have already picked theirs, but they can move if we need to reshuffle.
“Nah.” She picks up one of her suitcases with a small groan.
“Let me.” But the second I move forward to help, she pierces me with a protective glare.
“I’ve got it. You’re a paying guest, not a bellhop.”
“Yeah.” I back up a step.
Okay. So this woman wants little to do with us besides sleeping under one roof.
Fine, that’s her right.
No skin off my nose.
Though it might make sharing this house awkward. On the other hand, awkward can be managed if we’re just sleeping here and having a few meals.
“I’ll just take whatever’s free. No worries,” she says once she’s partway up the stairs, looking like she’ll barely make it to the top.
Another section of the railing bends when she lays her hand on it, and I grit my teeth.
“Careful. Tomorrow, I’ll get that hammered back into place and something over the gap,” I tell her. “And I’ll do my own sweep through the house, if you don’t mind. Looks like nobody’s been living here for some time.”
“They haven’t,” she agrees. “PopPop wasn’t exactly coming around the last few years of his life, and we didn’t rent it out until recently. We’ve had a few people checking in and handling maintenance, but I guess they missed a few things. Sorry again for the crappy condition.”
She gives the railing a good shake to test it and glances over her shoulder at me. The entire structure wobbles like a licorice rope.
“Like I said, I’ll deal with it.”
Her shades are back on top of her head, threatening to fall down her nose. “No need. I’ll have someone drop by soon and patch it up.”
“Why bother? That could take days and I’m here.”
“Technically, you’re a tenant, and I’m the landlord. And I’ve already put you guys in danger.” She’s reached the landing now, and she rolls her shoulders as she sets the bag down. What does she have in there, bricks? “That makes it my responsibility. My house, my rules, Dadzilla.”
I snort.
Stubborn as hell and twice as infuriating.
“I mean it,” she calls.
Sure, she does.
Only, by the time she brings some handyman in, even if they’re local, I could’ve had this mess fixed.
Also, I’m pretty sure I saw a toolshed out back. Might not even have to go into town for supplies if there’s any surplus equipment in there.
That also reminds me to quit glowering and check on the kids.
Maybe I’ll stick my head in the old shed, too, assuming it isn’t locked, just to scope it out.
I head outside through the back and cross the large green lawn to the lake, following their excited yelps down the beach. They’re already skipping rocks on the lake.
When I glance up at the house, a curtain swishes over one of the second-floor windows.
Margot’s face disappears from view in a puff of beige, a split second ahead of her hand, making a pointed gesture.
I try not to grin, especially in front of the kids.
Was she seriously flipping me off?
I can’t believe my luck, and just when it seemed like it was turning around.
This is going to be a special kind of torture.