Chapter 18
Guard Cat
CALLIE
“Iam not a boring-ass good girl,” I whisper to myself as I quietly close the door to my car, which is parked on Wes’s neighbor’s driveway. He practically invited me to try to break in to his house, and while that would normally be a bonkers idea, I trust Wes.
I’m also feeling the inspiration to prove Shane wrong. I hate that some of his last words haunt me so much. That man made me feel like I’m not good enough, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it.
It’s almost pitch dark out, which makes sense as it’s the middle of the night.
Is it smart to go down a private driveway when I don’t know for sure that the owners are down in Florida or wherever for the winter?
Nope, it’s sure not. But their driveway hasn’t been shoveled recently, so I’m pretty sure they aren’t here.
Now, I’m not convinced I’ll be able to drive my car back up the driveway due to all the snow, but that’s a problem for later.
There are just so very many problems with this plan, but as I tiptoe through the woods toward the cabin with only a sliver of moonlight and my phone’s flashlight at four o’clock in the morning in fresh ankle-deep snow, I ignore them all.
Because honestly, right now I’m most scared of running into a bear or a pack of coyotes. Or a moose. Or a very angry owl.
I’m such an idiot, but I feel more alive than I have in ages, and I have Wes to thank for that. He’s made things lighter with that warm smile, those icy blue eyes, and the vulnerable way he looks at me, like I could hurt him somehow.
When I finally see the side of his cabin through the trees, a thin trail of smoke drifting out of his chimney, a wave of relief washes over me. I’m almost safe from wildlife.
An owl hoots in a nearby tree, and I almost scream.
“What is wrong with me?” I whisper, scanning my surroundings for a giant scary bird. I’m half tempted to just knock on Wes’s front door and give up this game.
No way. I can do this. I used library resources to research how to stalk someone, after all!
Literally. And how to break in! Could I get fired for that?
Who’s to know? All I have to do is pick his back door lock.
I’ve also been watching YouTube videos for tips.
Pick the lock, leave the present I have tucked away in my jacket, then retreat and wait for him to text me when he finds it in the morning.
Simple.
There’s an outside light shining over the front door, but the back entrance is dark. My heart races as I approach the dark door with my newly purchased lock pick set. Why do they sell things like this?
I might know something more practical about being a criminal if I had let my father hire me. But the library is where I belong, not a fight club or gambling ring.
I take a deep breath and quietly choose a tool in the middle of the set to stick into the lock, wiggling it around a little.
It’s too loud, and I flinch at the sound.
Nothing happens with the lock. I press my ear to the door and don’t hear anything from inside the cabin.
I pick a skinnier tool. Again, the metal scraping isn’t great, but then there’s a popping sound and the lock is open.
The lock is open.
So fucking easy! Maybe I have a secret talent for breaking and entering.
I turn the knob and quietly ease the door open wide enough for me to slip inside.
There’s not even a squeak, and I’m feeling pretty proud of myself.
Then my wet boots squelch loudly on the wooden floor and I cringe, freezing for a second.
When nothing stirs in the cabin, I push the door carefully shut behind me and lean against it, willing my heart to stop racing.
It’s dark in the house, the glowing embers of a dying fire in the living room providing the only light.
Something suddenly pushes against my calf, and I let out an involuntary squeak before processing that it’s Sir Fluffy.
I bend down to pet Wes’s cat on his head. Sir Fluffy meows, and I shush him, then he does it again.
“Shhh, kitty, hush,” I whisper. This cat! What the hell?
But the cat keeps meowing, each one louder than the last. It’s like he’s a trained guard dog—guard cat?—screaming for Wes to come check out what he’s found. Or maybe he’s looking for breakfast.
Oh, fuck.
I stand and realize I need to get out of here.
No time to find the perfect spot for my present.
The counter right here will have to do. I pull out my gift and set it down.
Now I just need to slip back out the door and run to my car.
Through the woods and the leftover snow.
In the middle of the night. And probably have to fight off bears or moose or owls.
But before I can even pull my hand back from the counter, everything goes dark.
My eyes fly open, and I gasp as I try to figure out what’s going on. Right away, I realize I can’t move my hands or my legs and—
I’m zip-tied to Wes’s kitchen chair in front of a warm fire, my jacket, gloves, and hat piled neatly on the couch next to Wes.
Again.
“Fuck,” I say, noting the airplane pillow around my neck.
“Well well well, look who’s finally awake.” Wes is looking fucking adorable in sweatpants, a hoodie, glasses with slightly messed up hair, reading on his e-reader. “You were out so long I had time to get the fire going again.”
My god, why is he so sexy?
“You didn’t have to tie me up.” I sigh loudly, trying to project frustration and nonchalance, not admiration at his beauty.
“I rather like seeing you tied up.” Wes cocks his head and drops his device onto the couch cushion beside him, not making a move to stand.
My jaw drops, and it takes me a second to find words. He likes to see me tied up. Damn, that’s hot. But the fact that he likes me tied up and the fact that I find it hot are both disturbing.
“Can you please untie me?”
“Of course, Calliope.” Wes picks up a knife from the side table. I am zero percent afraid as he approaches and crouches in front of me.
“You drugged me. Again.”
“You tried to break into my cabin. Again.”
I growl, but he smiles and wraps a hand around my ankles, keeping them still while he cuts the zip tie. Then he drops onto his knees and reaches around the chair for my wrists, his torso pressing against my legs. I breathe out at the warm contact.
“I honestly didn’t think you’d take my suggestion to heart.” He frees my wrists with ease and gathers the plastic zip ties from the carpet. “But I really do think you could use some pointers.”
“Forget it. I’m a terrible stalker, and I’m okay with that.” I roll my wrists and narrow my eyes at him.
“Are you really going to be mad at me right now?” Wes remains kneeling in front of me. “It is four-thirty in the morning, and you tried to break in. I was sleeping comfortably in my bed. So was Sir Fluffy.”
“Actually, I did break in.” I’m feeling pretty smug about my breaking and entering, even if I did mess it up as soon as I got inside.
“Oh, sweetheart, I let you. I have about five more locks on that back door that I didn’t use.”
First of all, the way he called me sweetheart warms me from the inside out in a way I’m not proud of. Second, I guess I’m not good at breaking and entering.
“Also, I have cameras everywhere, and got an alert as soon as you crossed into my property from the Flemington’s next door.
” Wes pats my knee and lets his hand linger there.
I cross my arms and attempt to look annoyed.
“By the way, they own a ton of guns, so you’re lucky they’re down south for the winter. ”
“Jesus.” I pull my hair over my shoulder and cock my head at him.
“Listen,” he says, hand still on my knee. “I hope you know you are safe with me.”
I blink at him. I mean, yeah, I guess I do know that, otherwise this would be a really stupid position for me to be in. I nod.
“And I shouldn’t have encouraged you. You’re putting yourself in unnecessary danger, and as much as I love having you in my cabin, this could’ve turned out very differently if it were someone else.” He looks at me so intently, eyes wide and locked on mine.
“Uh—” I swallow and my chest flutters. “Okay. Yeah.”
“Right. Glad we’ve got that settled.” Wes stands and holds out his hand. “How about a drink? Coffee? Tea? Whiskey?”
“That sounds nice, but I should get home.” I glance at Wes’s large, open hand.
“Why?”
I look up at him. Why, indeed.
“None of those drinks are right for this time of night.” I say lamely, staring back down at his hand for a beat more before placing mine in it. I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be flirting, and I shouldn’t be imagining what things Wes can do with those large hands and thick fingers.
“Of course they are. Any of them. It just depends on what you’re in the mood for. Plus, it’s still dark out, and I don’t think you should be walking through the woods or driving. What if you hit a moose? Or run into one?”
“Then I’d be fucked.” I nod as I’d recently thought that.
“Exactly. Those motherfuckers are terrifying. Fred the mayor is real, you know, and he is enormous. Come on. Sit on the couch. I’ll make tea.”
I’ve officially run out of the strength to fight him—and whatever it is that’s happening between us—so I let him gently pull me up. It feels so lovely that when he slides his hand out of mine I almost whimper.
I settle onto the couch as Wes puts his kettle on the stove to heat water. Sir Fluffy hops up on the couch next to me, sitting exactly on top of Wes’s e-reader.
“Kitty, you totally sold me out.” I scratch Sir Fluffy’s head, and he presses up into my palm.
Wes chuckles from the kitchen. “Let’s go over the plethora of mistakes from tonight, shall we?” Wes pulls out two mugs and drops a tea bag in each one.
“We’re really doing the stalking lessons?”
“No, I just want to go over the ways you put yourself in danger.” He shrugs. “You didn’t even attempt to look for cameras as you approached the cabin. Not even a cursory glance up.”