Chapter Thirteen
As soon as Paul left, Vanessa drove to the cabin with Emily.
She unlocked the door and strode inside, dragging Emily along. After she found the Wi-Fi code, she got on the phone with Jackson. “Did you tell Dad about the cabin mix-up?”
“I might have mentioned it.”
“Why?”
“Because he asked how you were doing.”
“He called the owner to complain on my behalf.”
“Okay.”
“Paul just gave me the key and left.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Vanessa released a slow breath of frustration. “I don’t like Dad meddling in my life. I’ve told him that.”
“If I remember correctly, you wanted me to do something about Paul.”
“That was before …”
“Before you saved him from drowning and made out with him?”
“Shut up, Jackson,” she snapped. “I did save him. You think you’re the only one capable of rescuing a swimmer?”
“I rescued a few fakers in my day.”
Vanessa didn’t doubt it. He’d been a lifeguard at Lost Lake for several summers, and teenage girls had flocked to him. “Are you implying that Paul’s a faker?”
“I’m not implying anything,” Jackson said. “Are you going to stay in the cabin or what?”
“We’re staying,” she said.
Emily celebrated by tossing her doll in the air. “Penelope wants candy.”
“Penelope’s on thin ice,” Vanessa replied.
The little girl stuck out her tongue at Vanessa.
Then she raced down the hallway and disappeared.
Vanessa ended the call with Jackson and did a cursory inspection of the cabin.
The kitchen looked neat and tidy. She spotted a washing machine at the end of the hall.
She found Emily inside the bedroom, jumping on the mattress.
Penelope’s blond braids were flying. Vanessa snapped her fingers and pointed to the ground in a fluid motion.
Emily ignored the unspoken directive and kept jumping.
Instead of getting upset with her daughter, who was clearly in a mood, Vanessa entered the room.
She collapsed on her back on the bed like a starfish.
It was a game they played often. Vanessa would freeze in a funny position while Emily tried to copy the pose.
The little girl flopped down beside her, giggling.
“It’s time for a nap,” Vanessa said.
Emily hopped down from the bed and raced away.
Vanessa stared up at the ceiling blankly.
She couldn’t muster the energy to move. She finally had a private space to rest, and she was grateful for it.
This was what she’d come for, after all.
She’d spent the past few months in a state of constant exhaustion, working frantic hours in the ER and finishing her degree in physical therapy.
Dealing with the emotional fallout from her divorce hadn’t been a priority.
She’d set her grief and anger aside for later.
It was later.
She rolled onto her side and hugged her arms around her middle. She hadn’t done the usual post-divorce things. She hadn’t gone on a shopping spree, or burned a pile of Bennett’s clothes, or picked up a stranger at a bar for a one-night stand.
She’d indulged in a few crying jags, but she hadn’t processed her feelings in a meaningful way.
Now they were stuck inside her, like an infection.
She needed to excise the wound. She needed to exorcise Bennett’s ghost, too.
Some women said the only way to get over a man was to get under a new one.
That was bullshit, but Vanessa longed for physical release.
She’d always enjoyed sex, and Bennett had been good in bed—when he’d made the effort.
Walking in on him with another woman had hijacked her sexual confidence, however.
She’d become a woman scorned, instead of a woman desired.
While she ruminated on these sad facts, she became aware of a familiar scent on the sheets.
Emily had jumped all over the bed, mussing the blankets, but it appeared to have been left unmade.
The mattress was firm and low to the ground, comfortable without being fussy.
She turned her face toward the pillow and inhaled.
Paul had slept here last night. She detected a hint of aftershave and clean male skin, along with a faint undertone of eucalyptus from the pain-relief patches he used.
She wondered if he wore pajamas to bed, or just his underwear, or maybe nothing at all.
The mental image of his big, naked body tangled in these sheets made her breath catch in her throat.
She closed her eyes and clutched the pillow in a tight grip.
Arousal pulsed between her legs, like the buzz of a reminder notification on her phone.
Warning. Combustible woman in need of orgasm. Send help.
She let out a shaky sound that was half-groan, half-laugh. She was in a bad way, if sniffing rumpled sheets could send her over the edge.
Rising from the bed, she studied the rest of the room.
It was small, with a single dresser and a nightstand.
The only window looked out into the trees behind the cabins.
She appreciated the natural light that filtered through the open slats of wooden blinds, and the fully functional air-conditioning unit, which rattled slightly as it worked.
Yes, this was better than camping. Far better.
She went in search of Emily, who’d settled into the beanbag chair with Penelope. She’d found the remote control. The television screen glowed with life as she pushed random buttons. “I want Disney Plus.”
Vanessa took the controller from her and experimented with it until she located a streaming service. She let Emily choose an animated movie. Then she grabbed her keys and walked toward the door.
“I’m going to unpack the car. Stay here.”
“Yes, Mommy.”
Vanessa smiled at Emily’s dutiful manner, which came and went like the wind blowing.
She was strong-willed and stubborn one minute, sweet as sugar the next.
Vanessa would never understand Bennett’s lack of interest in his own daughter.
The dollar signs in his eyes had obliterated his ability to see anything else.
She brought in all of their belongings, including the mesh laundry bag.
“Do you mind if I wash Penelope?” Vanessa asked.
Emily, who was watching her movie with sleepy eyes, handed the doll over. She stuck two fingers in her mouth.
Vanessa hauled the laundry bag toward the washer and dryer at the end of the hallway.
It was a cramped space with a bare lightbulb and a string hanging from the ceiling.
Vanessa opened the lid of the washing machine and found it half full of washed clothes.
She removed Paul’s items and tossed them into the dryer before starting her own load.
She ducked into the restroom, where there was more evidence of Paul in the form of a damp towel.
She’d speculated about him sleeping in the nude, but that was just conjecture.
Here, it was a given. Everyone showered naked.
Paul had showered within the hour. He’d used this towel to dry off.
She pictured the white terrycloth draped around his waist as he shaved.
She imagined him dragging the fabric over his hot, wet body.
“Stop it,” she told her reflection in the mirror. “You’re obsessing.”
She didn’t touch the towel, but she wanted to.
She also wanted to touch herself, to take the edge off her arousal.
Her own words floated back to her, the boast she’d made to Paul about vibrators.
They did give a reliable experience. Pleasure was practically guaranteed.
But there was no substitute for a real man with a rock-hard body and a wicked mouth.
She bit down on her lower lip as she studied her reflection.
She looked as wild as she felt. Her mascara was smudged, her ponytail was off-center, and her eyes glittered with desperation. She yanked the towel off the rack, stormed out of the bathroom, and threw it down the hall at the washing machine.
“Don’t you dare,” she said to the towel, as if the thing might come to life and fly back into the bathroom to taunt her.
“Who are you talking to, Mommy?” Emily asked from the living room.
“No one,” Vanessa replied. Then: “Penelope.”
Emily accepted this answer without argument.
Vanessa curled up on the couch with her laptop and tried to study for her PT exams. Memories of the Scrabble game with Paul floated back to her.
She remembered the naughty words he’d played, and her lips curved into a smile.
Then she reminded herself about his cutting remarks and standoffish behavior.
He’d been unforgivably rude. He’d lied about the Wi-Fi.
Despite multiple offenses, she wasn’t angry with him. She’d won the cabin, and that made a big difference. The score between them was settled. She would be polite to him. Could she overlook his flaws in order to use him for sex? Maybe.
Was it a good idea? Definitely not.
Vanessa heard the dryer stop tumbling, so she gave up on studying and rose to her feet.
Emily had fallen asleep on the beanbag chair.
Vanessa removed Paul’s warm clothes and folded them quickly, including his boxer shorts.
His jeans were a bit damp, and had something in the back pocket.
Vanessa slipped her hand inside and found a business card.
Kyle McPherson, Criminal Investigations. Houston PD.
On the opposite side, a phone number was scrawled in blue ink.
The number had faded in the wash. She returned the card to the pocket of the jeans carefully.
Maybe she should tell Jackson. If Paul was being investigated, that was another compelling reason to steer clear of him. She’d had her fill of shady men.
Vanessa transferred her own laundry into the dryer, sans Penelope.
She put the doll out in the sun to dry. Then she inspected the kitchen, which was clean and well stocked.
The fridge had a variety of drinks and food items. She was looking for spices when she heard the rumble of Paul’s truck engine.