Chapter 13
Aspen
As I tidiedup the mess in my cottage, taking pictures of the scene with my phone to document things, the dogs had only begun to calm down. Renegade had pretty much stood sentry over me, watching every move I made. Molly, the loyal pooch she was, had been at his side, but there was no disputing who was the alpha between the two dogs.
My emotions were riding high, and every little snap of a tree branch, an acorn hitting the cottage’s roof, or loud rustling of leaves seemed to have me on edge. My surroundings no longer felt as peaceful as they would seem to any outsider.
I was unsettled—freaked the hell out to be honest.
My privacy had been invaded—violated.
I was used to being by myself, my seclusion from the world was perceived as an equivalent to safety for me. Now, my remoteness felt more like my personal prison. I had no idea who my intruder was, what they wanted, or if they’d be back. That last fact terrified me shitless, but I refused to run. I would stand my ground. And if things escalated, I’d call the cops.
As a coping mechanism to any form of stress or anxiety, I had always been one to gravitate toward cleaning, which is why I was still hard at it nearly three hours later.
My bedroom now smelled of lemon and pine, and I swear I could see my own reflection in the hardwood floors. Hell, I was shocked the finish on said surface still existed, with the amount of scrubbing I had subjected it to. My level of cleanliness at the moment truly rivaled that of any hospital or top-notch medical facility. I’d even washed the walls, the furniture, and bed linens.
Okay, so I went a little overboard, but you too would be just a little crazy when your sanctuary, your favorite place in the whole world, had been sullied by being invaded by some mere stranger with who knows what kind of an agenda.
It wasn’t until I was storing my various cleaning products under the kitchen sink that I turned and noticed the state of my library. Being that every piece of literature held a sacred place in my heart, panic swelled when I saw those titles in complete disarray. To any onlooker, it would appear like the ever-perfect prolific title listing of a rabid reader, but I was particular when I acquired a new piece for my collection, and what I was staring at right then was far from the way I displayed my preciouses.
Even the dogs noticed my state of unrest. Molly approached me to nudge my hand, as she often did when I felt troubled or stressed.
“We’ll fix it, girl.” I patted her head, the feel of her fur sifting through my fingers calming me. Then I turned for my desk, grabbed my laptop, thankful it had a sturdy case, which had saved it from being destroyed after being flung—something I presumed my interloper had done as I’d found it on the floor across the room—and pulled the database of titles I owned that I’d built what felt like ages ago. With my arsenal in hand, I proceeded to right the wrongs, my senses calming with every bit of progress I made.
By dinnertime, I collapsed on the couch, a fire roaring in the hearth with a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of pinot grigio at the ready. Molly and Renegade were snuggled by the soothing flames and the easy-listening words of the Rat Pack sufficed to chase away the remnants of the day’s restlessness and tension.
Cade
I’d caught the shadow in my periphery long before my truck came to a full stop, the hairs rising on the back of my neck. Slamming on the brakes, the tires slid across the gravel drive, and I hurried out, no thought of a flashlight, my phone the only thing that could be of help with its built-in flashlight app.
I could hear barking and snarling, but by the time I reached the edge of the forest, whatever I thought I’d seen was long gone. And so, I waited…listened, but nothing came, and my sense of unease didn’t dissipate, even when the barks turned to whines.
Approaching the porch steps, the whining grew louder. As I turned the knob and pushed inward, I was rewarded with an immovable barrier.
“Aspen?” I called out above the pathetic doggy noises and scraping at the door.
“Cade?”
My body stiffened as I heard the distinctive sound of metal and wood clunk down onto the floor. Something was up and my gut was screaming at me that once I got behind the tiny cottage’s front door, I wouldn’t like what I found.
The instant the front door swooped inward I was tackled by a crazed Amazon, who propelled me back two steps in order to keep us from tumbling on the ground.
Molly and Renegade circled around us, barking before taking off as if on the hunt for what I presumed was the shadow figure I had spotted upon my arrival.
Looking over Aspen’s shoulder, I saw a rifle haphazardly lying on the living room floor and focused on the wreck of a beauty in my arms. “Pen?” I hurried us in and bolted the door behind us. “What’s going on?”
“I—I thought,” she swallowed, trying to regain her composure, “you were someone else.”
My brows pinched low in confusion and my body became one solid mass. “Explain. Now.”