Chapter 3 Summer
THREE
SUMMER
Iwake up slowly from the most delicious dream. Calloused hands parting my legs. A low, deep voice in my ear. The scraping rub of stubble over my chest.
My eyes flutter open with a gasp, and I stare up at the dark wooden beams over my head, breathing hard. For a few long seconds, I don’t know where I am.
I’m certainly not in my bedroom. Nothing is pink. There are no cars honking outside or people yelling in the street. All I can hear is…
Birds?
I sit up in bed, rub the sleep out of my eyes, and look around me, taking in the wooden walls and rug-covered floor.
The bed I’m in is piled with soft white sheets.
Light curtains flutter around the windows.
Across from me is a sofa, a wooden coffee table, and a small kitchenette with an ancient-looking iron stove.
Yesterday comes back to me in flashes. The trip up to Scotland. Getting rejected at the resort. The long taxi drive through the darkness.
Cameron.
My belly heats, and I roll over in the sheets and bury my face in my pillow.
Well, my dream makes a lot more sense now. Even through last night’s exhaustion, it was impossible to miss how unbelievably fit Cameron is.
He’s massive, well over six foot, and…wild-looking. I remember how he growled like an animal even as he gently scooped me up and pressed me against his chest. I sigh.
Tragically, Lulu was right when she said I’m in a dry spell. I haven’t gotten laid in well over a year. I’ve been on dates, but the only men I ever meet are other influencers. Something about the veneers, perfectly coiffed hair, and designer skinny jeans just doesn’t do it for me.
But Cameron was different. Solid. Strong. Rough.
And he clearly thought I was a total ditz.
Groaning, I reach for my phone next to my pillow. I expect the usual barrage of notifications—likes, comments, messages, emails, texts, missed calls…
Nothing. Not a single DM. I stare blankly at the wallpaper selfie of me and Lulu pouting, trying to make sense of it for a few seconds. Then I spot the symbols at the top of the screen. No bars, no Wi-Fi.
Shit.
I have a little panic. I don’t remember the last time I had no internet. How am I going to message anyone? How am I going to know what people are saying about me? What if the video gained traction in the night? How am I going to get home? I feel sick.
I need to get some signal, stat. I swing my legs out of bed and pad across the room, waving my phone in the air. As I step into the little kitchen nook, I almost trip. I look down at my mud-spattered Chanel pumps, discarded on the floor.
“No,” I whisper, bending to pick them up.
They’re ruined. The mud outside the cabin has soaked into the delicate pink fabric.
I love these shoes. They were the first designer thing I ever owned.
I bought them with my first brand deal paycheck three years ago.
For a month after I got them, I didn’t even take them out of the box.
I just kept them under my bed and occasionally lifted the lid to peep at them, bursting with excitement that I owned something so pretty.
And now they’re destroyed.
I carry them over to the sink sadly. Maybe I can wash the mud out somehow? As I pick up the dishcloth, I hear an ominous creak from the porch outside the cabin and freeze.
There’s another creak and a heavy footstep. The doorhandle rattles.
Someone’s trying to get inside.
Without thinking, I grab a knife from the block on the counter. There’s the sound of a key in the lock, and the cabin’s front door swings open. A giant stranger holding a literal axe over his shoulder steps into the cabin, whistling cheerfully.
I scream, brandishing the knife at him.
“Holy Mother of Christ!” he shouts in a thick Scottish accent, staggering back. “What in the hell?!”
Through the adrenaline pounding through me, I get a vague impression of his looks. Tall. Red hair. Massive broad shoulders.
“Who are you?” I demand.
Oh my God. I’m going to get chopped into little pieces by an axe murderer in the Highlands. I knew this was a murder cabin. Always trust your gut.
“I’m Fraser. I work here,” the red-haired man sputters. “Who are you?” His eyes narrow. “And why are you holding a knife?”
“WHY ARE YOU HOLDING AN AXE?” I shout.
He looks at the axe in his hand. “Oh. Shit.” He sets it down quickly.
“I was chopping some firewood outside. Just thought I’d check if the cabin could use a refill.
Didn’t realise there was anyone in here.
” He glances around, taking in my suitcase, and understanding dawns on his face. “You a guest?”
I nod frantically. “I got in late last night.”
“Christ.” He winces. “I am so sorry. Didn’t get the memo. I just came to restock the logs, I swear.” His voice turns low and soothing. “You’re okay, honey. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oh,” I say, my heartbeat slowing slightly. “Okay.” As the adrenaline drains out of me, I can take in the man properly.
He’s massive. He towers over me, his broad frame filling the entire doorway.
He’s wearing a white T-shirt that does nothing to hide the solid width of his biceps, and a pair of faded blue denim jeans that seem to be struggling with the size of his tree-trunk thighs.
My eyes trail up to his face. He’s ruggedly handsome, with a square jaw and auburn hair pulled into a bun.
Most striking are his eyes. I suppose they’re technically hazel, but they’re unusually light, like gold.
Something hums in my belly.
He grins. “You still thinking of stabbing me? If you must, please just avoid my face. It’s too pretty to get holes in it. I’m sure you agree.”
I look down at the knife in my hand and drop it on the counter with a clatter. “I’m sorry!”
He waves a massive hand. “Aw, don’t apologise. Serves me right for startling a lady first thing in the morning. I’ll, ah, leave you to it, yeah?” He starts to back out of the cabin.
“Wait!” I say, and he freezes. “You said you work here?”
“Aye. Live up at the farmhouse with Cameron and Alec.”
I give him my best smile. “Can I please use your phone as a hotspot? I have no bars, and it’s sort of an emergency.”
He hums. “Signal’s crappy down here, but you can come up to the main house if you’d like. Hop on the Wi-Fi.”
I perk up. “Really?”
“’Course,” he says cheerfully. “It’s the least I can do after scaring the life out of you.” His eyes flick downward, and his mouth curves. “Although maybe you should put on some trousers first. No pressure, of course. I mean, this outfit you have going on is lovely.”
I look down. Apparently, I was so tired last night that all I did was yank off my skirt and socks before I fell into bed in my shirt. I’m standing in front of him with bare legs and my pale-pink thong showing. Heat flushes my face.
“Give me a minute!” I say quickly. Fraser grins as I run towards the bathroom.