Chapter 7
CHANCE
Boone’s voice is calm and matter of fact when he tells her she has to come with us. But the second the words leave his mouth, I see it.
Yeah. She’s definitely scared of something.
I step forward, moving slow enough not to spook her, and hold out a hand. “I’m Chance. That’s Boone and this one here is Dillon. We’d never have barged in like this if we hadn’t thought the place was on fire.”
Her lips twitch, and a spark of defiance flares under all that soot. “Well, it kind of was, so thanks for the rescue.”
Dillon chuckles. “You’re welcome, darlin’.”
The comment gets the barest hint of a smile out of her, but it’s still progress.
“Your chimney is completely blocked. It could be nests or maybe worse, but whatever it is, it’ll need a full, proper cleaning before you can use it again. That’s why you’ll need to stay with us tonight. Or, if you’d rather, there’s a motel in town,” Boone tells her.
Her smile vanishes. Just like that. Her shoulders stiffen and her eyes dart around like a cornered animal. Something about going back to town hit a nerve.
Whatever she’s running from that brought her out here, isn’t done chasing her.
“Town’s probably not what you want tonight,” I say before Boone can make the offer sound like an ultimatum. “It’s getting late and cold fast, and half the places close early this time of year.”
I catch her gaze and hold it, trying to be steady and calm. “Come stay with us for now. Until you can get it sorted out. At least for tonight. We’ve got plenty of room and Boone’s cooking. You won’t get food like that at the motel. Guaranteed.”
Her mouth opens, ready to protest, but Dillon beats her to it.
“We’ve got hot showers, and Boone even lets us use the nice towels sometimes. It’s practically luxury out here in the sticks.”
A soft, barely there snort escapes her, with the faintest roll of her eyes. The tension in her shoulders loosens just a fraction, though. Dillon grins like he’s won a round.
“Fine. I’m Roxie, by the way,” she says, glancing at me again, as if she’s still trying to decide whether I’m the kind of man she can trust. “It’s just for the night.”
“That’s all we’re offering,” I say quietly. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
We help her with the duffel bag lying by the door, Dillon grabbing it before she can argue and carrying it to the truck.
Boone and I also help her straighten up a bit, sweeping out the worst of the soot, wiping down the countertops, and rinsing off the meager provisions she’d arranged around the kitchen.
Then we load up her stuff and pile into the truck.
By the time we reach the house, the porch lights and the automated lights inside have already come on, and the place glows like a modern beacon against the jagged, mountain landscape.
She stops short after climbing out of the truck, her gaze glued to the sprawling glass-and-steel structure we call home.
“This is not what I expected,” she murmurs, taking in the broad frame, the big wraparound porch, and the stone cladding in places to blend the corners into the mountainside.
“Not bad for three bachelors, huh?” Dillon asks, winking as he holds the door for her.
She doesn’t comment, simply nodding as she finally ascends the stairs to the front door and sweeps past him. I follow her in, supremely aware of how she suddenly seems even smaller once she’s inside.
Her oversized hoodie swallows her up, soot still streaking her cheek, and her rich brown hair gleams oddly now that she’s standing directly under a light, like it’d been dyed recently, but I don’t ask.
Boone pauses across the room, glancing at her from the hallway that leads to the kitchen. “You can take the guestroom upstairs. Second floor. There’s a bathroom down the hall with clean towels in the closet.”
She hesitates, biting her lip before she draws a deep breath and nods. “Thanks. I, um… I appreciate it.”
“Do you want me to show you where to go?” I offer.
She glances at me, those intensely green eyes holding mine for a few beats longer than necessary before her gaze drifts around the spacious living area to the stairs. As if she realizes it would be easier if I show her than trying to navigate this place herself, she finally nods.
“Thank you,” she says, watching Dillon hand me the duffel.
I motion for her to go ahead of me up the stairs, hiking the bag up on my shoulder and then following after. “The guestroom is the second door to the left.”
She stops at the second door and waits for me to catch up.
“Thermostat is right next to the light switch, and there are extra blankets in the closet. I’ll leave you to settle in, but dinner will be ready within the next thirty minutes or so.”
Her gaze drifts from mine to the view beyond the glass wall, now a blanket of stars flickering to life in an endless sky. “Wow. It really is remote out here, huh?”
I follow her gaze, then reach into the room to flick the light on. “It is. You’re safe here with us, Roxie. I promise you that.”
The words are out before I even realize I’m about to say them. She looks up at me, those big, round eyes searching my face like she’s trying to read something in it. “You don’t even know me.”
“No, but I know trouble when I see it, and I suspect you’ve had enough of it to last a while.”
Her breath catches, and for a moment neither of us move.
We just stand there, staring at each other, me wondering how a tiny thing like her could’ve gotten into the kind of trouble that’s chased her all the way out here, and her probably wondering if she can trust the word of a guy she’s just met who towers over her and is built like the Marine he isn’t anymore.
“Right,” she finally says. “I’ll be locking my door and sleeping with one eye open.”
“You can close both eyes here. I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready.”
She nods and slips past me into the guestroom. My hand brushes her arm as she passes, the touch light, barely there, but its enough to set something off under my skin, leaving it warm and wanting more.
Roxie freezes when it happens, and I hear her take a sharp breath. A second later, the door shuts behind her and I head back downstairs. When I get to the kitchen, Boone shoots me a look that says we needed to talk, and Dillon grins like the devil himself.
With the scent of garlic and onions already wafting through the air, I know she won’t be long, so I hold Boone’s gaze and shake my head. “Later.”
He glances up in the direction of the guestroom like he’s hoping to develop X-ray vision but then sighs and focuses his attention back on us.
“Just take it easy, boys. She’s a beautiful woman and I’m pretty fascinated myself by where she came from, but this wasn’t fate FedExing us a girlfriend.
She’s a very real person and something tells me she’s in very real trouble to boot. We need to be careful.”
Dillon nods. “I’m in very real trouble too, but fine. We’ll play it cool.”
I signal my agreement, then busy myself with setting the table while Dillon starts mixing some kind of batter for dessert and Boone gets back to work on dinner.
By the time she comes back downstairs, she looks a little less like a runaway and a little more like someone who belongs at the table with us.
Her hair is damp and loose, tumbling in waves past her shoulders, her cheeks shiny and glowing with all the soot washed away. I almost do a double take when I see her, surprised at the strength of the attraction that rolls through me.
Boone sets down a skillet full of garlic butter chicken and potatoes in the middle of the table, and Dillon is already cracking open beers like he’s been waiting for an excuse to show off his hosting skills.
“This smells amazing,” she says, sounding half-starved and half-suspicious that something so normal could actually be happening to her.
“A man’s gotta eat.” Boone shrugs. “We might as well make it good.”
“Which is why he doesn’t trust me to cook anymore,” Dillon says. “I do have a chocolate cake in the oven, though. Baking is where it’s at anyway.”
Boone rolls his eyes. “I don’t trust you with the stove because you caught a towel on fire.”
“Once.” Dillon points a fork at him. “And it was a controlled burn.”
She laughs, a soft, surprised sound that makes Boone’s mouth twitch, Dillon beam, and hits me right in the chest. We fall into an easy rhythm after that, passing dishes and trading stories.
As she picks up her silverware, she takes a pointed look around the room, her gaze snagging on the expensive light fixtures, the massive TV against the wall in the living room, and the sleek lines of the designer furniture. “What exactly do you guys do for work?”
Boone answers first. “We run a cybersecurity company. It’s mostly private contracts. Fortune 500s, banks, and sometimes government clients.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Here? In the middle of nowhere?”
“High-speed internet reaches even us mountain folk these days,” Dillon says. “We get to work in our boxers and nobody complains.”
She nearly snorts beer through her nose, and I have to look away before my smile gives too much away.
“So you’re computer guys,” she says slowly, like she doesn’t quite know how to fit that into her picture of us.
Dillon gestures between us with his fork. “Genius, genius, grumpy genius. We make a good team.”
Boone grunts. “He’s not wrong.”
She tilts her head, studying us with a cautious curiosity before she tucks her hair behind her ears and picks up a fork. “Have you always lived out here?”
“No,” I answer. “We grew up in Chicago, but we’ve been here a few years and it’s a good life. I don’t see us leaving anytime soon.”
She looks around the room again and then smiles. “With a house like this, I wouldn’t want to leave either.”
After poking at her food for a moment, she casually adds, “You don’t happen to know if anyone in the area is hiring? I might stick around for a while myself and I’ll go nuts if I’m just sitting around the cabin all day long.”
The question lands like a rock smacking into the center of the table. Boone’s hand freezes halfway to his beer and Dillon stops chewing mid-bite. I meet both their eyes, that silent exchange we’ve had a hundred times over the years sparking between us again.
She wants a job. We need someone to handle the mountain of data entry we keep putting off.
I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay even as my heart starts banging in my ears. “Actually, we might have something. Have you ever worked in data entry before?”