Chapter Five
Brooklyn
“Why did you do that?” I hiss as soon as he shuts the door.
He drags his hands over his face like he’s not sure why he did it.
“Ginger...” he sighs.
“Now everyone in town will think we’re together,” I say, panic rising in my voice. If I was wanting to keep a low profile, this was not the way to do it.
He starts walking away from me toward the kitchen. “Yeah, that was the point.”
“That’s not what I want.” I storm after him.
“It’s not what I want either, cupcake,” he says as he opens the bottle of ibuprofen and shoves two pills into his mouth.
“Why?” I can’t get any more words out. I can’t begin to wrap my brain around this.
He throws back a glass of water to wash down the pills, and then slams the glass down on the counter. His eyes are all fire when they meet mine.
“Did you want to file a report with Hawk?” he asks.
“No.”
“Did you have another plan up your sleeve?”
“No.”
“You’re welcome, cupcake.”
“I don’t need you rescuing me,” I shout.
“Looks like you do, Ginger.”
Dammit. He’s right. He’s spent all day rescuing me. I’m searching my brain for some sort of snappy reply, but it’s empty.
After an intense stare off, he sighs and says. “Want a tour?”
I open my mouth to start back into the fight and then realize it’s useless.
The truth is being his fake girlfriend will probably help me.
This isn’t the way I would have planned it but crashing into town already put me in the center of the radar.
Having this cover will ease suspicions about who I am and what I'm doing here.
It’s a pretty brilliant plan the more I think about it. Not that I’m going to congratulate Mr. Angry Eyes.
“Sure,” I say.
“This is the kitchen,” he says.
“Really? Is that what you call it?”
He completely ignores me and says, “I use this kitchen. There’s not much of a kitchen in the cabin. I’ll try to stay out of your hair other than this space.”
I nod. Fair enough. It’s his place. He can do what he wants.
“I have some food. Wasn’t planning for a visitor, so I don’t have much. If you make a list, I’ll get whatever you need.”
“I can get my own food.”
He glares at me.
“Do you want me to cook?” I ask.
His expression changes - just a hint of surprise.
I straighten my back before I continue. “Since, you know, I’m not paying you any rent. Could I cook or clean or something?”
“I have a cleaning crew that comes each week.” His voice is gruff like that suggestion rubs him the wrong way.
“Okay. What about cooking?” I ask.
“Are you a good cook?”
“I guess you’ll find out,” I say.
“I guess I will.” He’s looking at me again like I’m a puzzle to solve. It’s making my insides feel scrambled, and I don’t like it one bit. I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
“So, you want me to cook?”
“Fine. Make a list of what you need.”
“Okay.”
“Follow me,” he says. He opens a door by the kitchen, and I peer in. “Pantry. Deep Freeze. Extra Fridge. Laundry Room.”
I thought it was going to be a closet, but it’s a room bigger than my bedroom.
“My cabin doesn’t have laundry either, so I’ll be in here too.”
“Do you want me to do your laundry?” I ask.
“No,” he snaps so loudly I jump.
“No, thank you,” he repeats softer. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Okay.”
“Dining room, living room.” He points around. “Remote’s over by the TV.”
I peer into each room as we walk past.
“Here’s your room,” he says, opening a door. I follow him inside.
“Woah.” I step inside the master bedroom. Huge windows line one wall overlooking the lake. There’s a fireplace in the center of the other wall. A king size-four-poster bed stands in the middle of the room.
“I don’t need something this big,” I say, my eyes are still on the bed. His gaze catches mine, and I feel my face redden. I didn’t mean the bed specifically. I clear my throat. “The room...it’s too much.”
“It’s not,” he says, walking toward the bathroom. “Your bath. There’s nothing in the closet or dressers. Use whatever you need.”
I peek into the bathroom. When I see there’s a deep soaking tub, I almost break out into a happy dance. This is way nicer than the place I’d originally booked - well, the pictures of the fake place that is.
I’m so sore from my little crash. Nothing sounds better than a long soak in that tub right now. I realize I’m staring at the tub like I want to make out with it.
“You know...” he says, opening a cabinet. “Oh, here.”
He puts a bag of Epsom salts on the counter. “Epsom salt bath will help with your injuries.”
I feel my face redden. I don’t like that he’s able to read my mind. I also don’t like that both of us are thinking about me in the tub right now.
He clears his throat.
“Let me show you the rest of the house.”
I’m relieved to leave the bedroom.
As we are walking down the hall, he points into a room. “Library.”
He’s blowing right past it, but I stop. “What?”
“Library, Ginger. Ever heard of one?”
I ignore him and step inside. The entire room is wall-to-wall bookshelves all the way to the ceiling.
“Oh good, there’s even a ladder thing like Beauty and the Beast,” I whisper.
“Don’t tell me you really have a princess fetish?” he says, following me into the room.
Without looking at him, I run my hand over the ladder. “I guess that would make you the Beast in this scenario,” I mumble.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
I stare up the ladder and my mind immediately goes to the library scene in Bridgerton.
Daphne on the ladder - Simon’s head between her legs.
I feel Kip’s eyeballs on me. I can’t look at him right now.
I run my fingers over the book on the shelf.
God, now I’m thinking of the scene in Atonement with Keira Knightley’s character pinned up against the bookshelf. When did I develop a library fetish?
Ok. Not happening. Dirty thoughts away.
“My mom loved books,” he says as I pick up a copy of Catcher in the Rye and turn it over in my hands.
“This was her home?”
“My parents, yes,” he says.
“Did they...”
“Pass? Yes. They’re gone.”
I turn to face him. “I’m sorry.”
He nods. “This was her favorite room.”
“I can see why,” I say, placing the book back on the shelf.
I think for a moment and then ask, “Is your name short for Kipling?”
His eyebrow shoots up.
“Most people don’t figure that out,” he responds.
“Well, I figured with your mother’s love of books. Do you have any siblings?”
A cloud passes over his face.
“Hawthorne.”
I frown a little. “Like the Scarlet Letter.”
“Like The House of Seven Gables.”
“Oh, I’ve read that,” I say. He’s leaning on the ladder now, and damn it, it’s super sexy. Leaning - why is leaning so damn sexy? I wonder what it would feel like to have his body leaning toward...
“You okay.” He interrupts my thoughts. “Is it your head? Do you need to sit down?”
“Oh, no...”
Shit. He caught me lusting after him.
“I’m fine. Really, what were we talking about?” I ask.
“Hawthorne. House of Seven Gables. You’ve read it?”
“Yeah, it’s the one with that lady with the bad eyesight, and she has like a permanent scowl and bad line between her eyebrows, so everyone just thinks she’s really mean when she isn’t. Honestly, it’s the only classic literature I’ve read that I thought was a strong case for Botox.”
He lets out a loud laugh. That beautiful smile spreads across his face again, and a warm, glowing feeling spreads across my body from below my belly button.
No. Down girl. Nope. No. Nope.
“That’s not what I thought you were going to say.” He’s shaking his head and laughing.
“I’m a free thinker. What can I say?”
He continues shaking his head. “I think you missed the point of the book.”
“I’m certain I did.”
He’s still smiling, and I’m still glowing. “My mom would have liked you.”
God, he’s trying to break my ovaries now. We need to return to the passive aggressive (and outright aggressive) brooding. I’m not here for a summer fling. I’m here on a mission. I can’t get distracted by this handsome, angry man.
I clear my throat. I’d like more than anything to ignore that comment, but it would be rude.
“That’s kind. Should we continue the tour?” I ask.
He clears his throat too and steps back.
“Yes,” he says as he follows me out of the room and then shows me the rest of the downstairs. He just points up the stairs and says, “That’s the upstairs.”
“Captain Obvious returns,” I say.
“It’s just bedrooms.”
“Am I banned from that wing? Is that where you keep your dying rose?”
“What?”
“Your dying rose? From when the witch turned you into a beast?” I say.
He narrows his eyes into slits. “What the hell are you talking about Ginger?”
“Have you never seen Beauty and the Beast?”
“Of course I’ve seen it,” he grumbles. “I just don’t have a fetish about it.”
I scoff. “I don’t either.’
“Whatever you say, Ginger. I don’t kink shame.”
I feel my face redden all the way to the tips of my ears, and he just smirks.
We finish the tour out on the patio.
“This is beautiful,” I say, admiring the hanging lights and lanterns. There’s a big fire pit and all kinds of potted plants and flowers. “Do you have parties here often?”
“Never,” he says, coldly.
I flash my eyes up to his.
“Not since Mom died.”
Even though it’s the most beautiful, clear, sunny summer day, the air has just turned thick.
“Well, I should get to work,” he says, looking at his watch. He swears when he sees the time.
“Of course, I’ve taken up too much time already.”
“Don’t worry about dinner tonight. I have some leftover takeout. There’s enough for both of us if you like Thai food.”
“Love it. Thank you.”
“I’ll give you my number in case you need something,” he says.
“Oh, right,” I say, pulling out my phone.
“What the hell is that?” He scowls at my phone.
“What?”
“That phone,” he says, pointing.
“It’s a phone.”
“It’s a flip phone,” he says.
“Well, it’s my phone,” I say. I’m not looking at him.
“It’s a burner phone,” he says. I’m directing all my attention toward the screen, trying to hide any hint of emotion.
He’s not hiding any emotion right now. Grumpypants has returned, and he seems irrationally pissed off about my phone situation.
Why does he freaking care? It doesn’t have anything to do with him.
“It’s a prepaid phone,” I say, opening the contacts.
“Ginger...” His voice sounds like a warning.
“Not everyone can afford...”
He cuts me off. “To be tracked?”
I swallow. God, why is my mouth so dry?
“Kip, let’s not do this.” I feel so tired all of the sudden.
He sighs heavily. “Fine, Ginger. We don’t have to do this.” He pauses for a moment and then says, “Right now.”
Oh, goody. Lucky me..
We exchange numbers, and then he says. “Well, I should really get to work.”
As he walks back to his cabin, Blue at his heels, I call after him. “Hey Kip. Thanks for everything.”
He doesn’t turn back but just waves his hand in the air and continues to walk away.
I unpack my things. It doesn’t take long because I haven’t brought much. I consider taking a bath or maybe a nap.
I lie down on the bed.
Oh, god, it’s the most comfortable bed in the world.
I’d love to stay in this bed forever, but I know I can’t sleep right now.
There’s too much adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I jump up. I need the internet. I have no devices with me - except my actual cell phone which is sitting in the front pocket of my suitcase.
Battery removed. I’m only using it if there’s an emergency.
As soon as that battery comes to life - the cavalry will be in town before I can even place a phone call, so it’s staying put.
I bet there’s a library in town. I need to get online.
I need to make sure my brother hasn’t declared war on Canada.
I drove through the Canadian border a few days ago with my passport and then ditched my rental car.
I changed cars twice and haven’t used my real name or a credit card since.
An old friend smuggled me into Alaska in the trunk of his car, and then he gave me the car (the now wrecked one), and Ubered it back to Canada.
I owe him.
Big time.
So, yes, to summarize, the President’s sister smuggled herself across the US/Canadian border. If this ever gets out to the press, well, I’m not going to think about that.
I look out the window for a moment. It’s a pretty day; I’m sure I can walk into town. What is it? Two? Maybe three miles?
I like walking, so I scribble a note about going into town and leave it on the kitchen counter. I could text, but I don’t think I need to distract him with every little thing. I set off down the driveway.
Once I make it to the road, I figure I’m maybe two miles from town. Well, I really hope I’m only two miles from town. I wasn’t paying that close attention when we drove in.
As I walk, I’m thinking through all the things I need to do.
I need to check my name - my real name online and make sure all hell hasn’t broken loose.
I need to find a job. My funds are running out fast, and I know I don’t have money to fix the car.
I also need to get access to local records, so I can get started on what I’m here to do.