Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Had that just happened?
Had he really just ordered her inside and then turned away as though he fully expected her to simply follow him?
Alice felt a rise of unexpected rebelliousness.
But it was short-lived.
She wasn’t the rebellious type. Even before meeting George, she’d been a people-pleaser. The sort of person who spiraled if she thought someone was upset with her. If she did the wrong thing.
So she knew that she was going to follow him inside. And not just because he’d told her to.
But because she was freaking scared of driving in this storm, which was definitely getting worse by the minute. And it seemed she was more afraid of driving than she was of being in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with a strange man.
This could be a very stupid, terrible idea, Alice.
She seemed to have a lot of those.
Alice stared over at the front door. What if he was a rapist? A murderer? He definitely seemed grouchy.
Although that could be because you just turned up unannounced on his doorstep. Anyone would be grouchy.
Right?
What choice did she have? Could she sleep in her car? Would it be safe or would she freeze to death? She had three-quarters of a tank left. How long would that last if she left it running?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back.
A knock on the window made her cry out and she glanced up at him as he loomed over her car. Why was he so big?
Couldn’t he have been small and elderly? That would have made things so much easier. Her car door opened and he leaned down.
“Fucking cold. I’m not coming out again. Get your ass inside or you’re going to freeze to death out here.”
“You could say something reassuring.”
Shoot. What was she doing?
Be nice, Alice. You don’t want to make him angry.
“Sorry!” she cried. “I didn’t mean that.”
He snorted. “Yeah, you did. Not gonna happen, though. I’m not a reassuring guy.” Then he sighed. “Guessing you’re worried I’m a rapist or murderer.”
“No,” she said weakly. “I’m not worried about that at all.”
He leaned down further, his face close to hers. But she was too scared to take note of his features. “Don’t lie, little girl. That’s the number one house rule. The thing that will get you kicked out. One, if you lie. Two, if you invade my privacy. Got it?”
“Yep,” she managed to get out.
“I get it. I’m a big guy.” His voice softened. “You’re a woman alone. I’m an asshole. I’m grouchy, blunt, and rude. Don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me. But I would never harm someone smaller than me. Spank their ass, yes. However, I only do that with consent.”
Her mind was reeling. What the what now?
Had he just threatened to spank her? If she consented.
Yeah. That wasn’t happening.
Sure. Like that didn’t make you curious.
“Oh, and if it makes you feel better, my best friend is the sheriff.” He turned around after saying that and she noticed with surprise that he had a cane. Had he hurt himself? He was definitely limping.
Somehow that made her feel better too.
Why? Because you’ll be able to run away from him?
Maybe. Was that a terrible way to think?
Yeah, probably. But it also made her feel better to know that he was friends with the sheriff. Didn’t really mean he was a good guy, but surely he was less likely to hurt her?
Alice sighed. She didn’t know why she was overthinking this. She knew what she was going to do.
Getting out of the car, she grabbed her suitcase and the three bags of groceries. It was awkward, trying to get everything inside on one trip. But she managed it, opening the door and dumping everything in before shutting it again with a sigh.
Then she glanced around as the warmth hit her icy skin.
Oh. Wow.
She walked further into the living room.
The ceilings were tall and peaked, which made the area appear huge.
There was a big kitchen at the other end of the room with a long island.
Off to her left was a stone fireplace that was lit.
Two armchairs sat across from the fireplace.
It could use a rug on the floor. Maybe a few cushions on the brown leather armchairs.
Definitely a masculine room. But it worked.
At the other end of the room, a large television was wall-mounted and a sectional sat in front of it. There were no pictures on the wall. Nothing extra, really. Just the furniture and the television.
She was drawn to the fireplace, placing her hands close to the flames to see if they would warm the chill that had seeped into her bones.
“See you finally made it inside. Thought you were gonna sit in your car all night.”
She jumped and turned with a whirl. “I, um, well . . . sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
Alice winced, glancing away. She had no freaking idea. Apologizing was just second nature to her now. George had beaten it into her. Not physically. He’d never touched her that way. That’s why he’d never view what he did to her as abuse.
To him, abuse was hitting someone. He’d always told her that he was just trying to help her. To make her a better person.
Instead, she’d become a shell of herself.
A serial apologizer and worrier.
Then she noticed the marks on the floor. Oh god! She glanced down at her boots in horror.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I’ll clean all of this up, I promise.” She hastily attempted to take off her boots. Only they wouldn’t budge and she ended up hopping around on one foot.
“Be careful!” he barked. “You’re going to end up in the fire.”
Oh heck. She froze and glanced over at the fire. Yeah, she should probably sit down to take off her boots. At least his floors were wood and not carpet. It should be easy to clean up the water and mud she’d trekked into the room.
What kind of person didn’t take their shoes off at the door?
She’d been taught better than this. She hastily sat on an armchair and undid her laces, slipping her feet free. Her cold feet sang with relief, tingling as the heat hit them.
Shoot. She hadn’t realized that they’d gotten so cold.
She rubbed them briefly before standing. That was when she’d noticed that he’d gotten a lot closer. He no longer had a cane, but there was something about the way he stood that told her that he was in pain.
Alice had no idea how she knew that when his face was blank, but she just did.
“I, um, sorry,” she squeaked out.
“Why do you keep saying that?” he asked irritably.
“I don’t know.” She winced. That was a lie and he’d told her that was a house rule. Alice was a rule follower. “I guess I’m apologizing in the hope you don’t get mad at me.”
“Well, stop. Saying you’re sorry all the time is likely to make me mad. Only apologize when it’s something big. This is literally nothing.” He waved his hand over the floor.
It was?
It wouldn’t have been to George. It would have resulted in him getting mad at her. And then giving her the silent treatment. Which didn’t sound bad, but it was something she absolutely hated.
It made her feel all squirmy inside. Sick and upset.
And she’d end up groveling to him until he forgave her.
“I’ll, um, try not to.”
He grunted. “You do that.” He stared down at her for a long moment. She wiped at her cheek. Then under her nose. Did she have something on her face?
But he didn’t say anything as he studied her with those hazel eyes. She was too scared to study him for long, but she took in his thick dark beard and short hair. He wore a button-up flannel shirt and dark jeans. He looked like a sexy mountain man.
“Is there, um, a mop or something?”
He nodded and turned. He limped into the hallway. Alice had to bite her lip to stop herself from asking him if he was all right.
He did not seem like the sort of man that would take that well. In fact, he didn’t seem like the sort of man who would take anything she said to him well. He seemed to be the strong, silent type.
And, wow, he was tall. Thick with muscle. She wondered what he did for a job. Did he live here all the time? It seemed awfully isolated. Then again, he didn’t seem the type of person who liked to surround himself with people.
She bit back all her questions as he pointed to a door. “Cleaning stuff is in there. Along with sheets for the spare bedroom. Will show you it.”
Alice followed behind him again as he headed down the hall and stopped at another door. He opened it. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell. Had the door been shut for a while?
The bedroom was sparsely furnished. There was a double bed with an iron headboard. The bed was stripped and there were two wooden bedside drawers. That was it.
“Closet there. Bathroom there.” He gestured toward two doors. “Hasn’t been used in a while but should be clean.”
“Thank you. I know this is a big inconvenience.”
Alice waited to see if he would politely protest that it wasn’t. It’s what she would have done, even if she hadn’t meant it.
But he didn’t.
And that was kind of a relief. His honesty was blunt and bordering on rude.
However, it was also refreshing.
She had the feeling she wasn’t going to have to guess what he was thinking because he’d straight out tell her.
“It is,” he said. “But, can’t be helped. Seems like you were unprepared to drive in the mountains in December.” That was a definite note of disapproval in his voice.
“I expected to be here earlier today,” she explained. “I kept stopping to take photos. The scenery is so beautiful. In hindsight, I should have stayed the night in town before heading up here.”
He grunted. “Probably should have stayed there. Safer for a woman alone.”
Was that . . . a threat?
She gave him a nervous glance. He was a good-looking guy, and he’d probably be gorgeous if he smiled.
But she wasn’t going to suggest that to him.
“And that wasn’t a threat.”
Alice cleared her throat. “I wasn’t thinking that.”
A scowl filled his face and his glare was hot enough to have her swallowing nervously.
“What did I say to you about lying?”
Oh. Christmas bells.
“Sorry! I mean, um, oh, sugar dumplings.”
“Sugar dumplings? Seriously?” he asked.
“Yes, seriously. What is wrong with sugar dumplings?” she asked, feeling offended.
“Are sugar dumplings a thing?”
“Well, of course they are. They’re sweet dumplings coated in sugar. Yum. Yum.”
“Have you had one?”
Hmm. “No, I haven’t.”
“No lying,” he told her, going back to what they’d been talking about. “Or you’re out.”
That was harsh but fair, This was his house and she was the intruder. Not a guest.
“I didn’t really think of it as lying. Just being polite.”
“I know you just met me, but do I seem like the type of person who cares about being polite?”
“Um, no, you don’t.”
“That’s right. I don’t. Rather have honesty than some bullshit politeness. Got it?”
“Got it.”
She was starting to get warm so she drew off her jacket before she began to sweat.
Yeah, you’re sweating because of the heat. Not because you’re worried about the next thing you’ll do wrong.
A groan escaped him as she slid her jacket off. “What is it? What’s wrong?” Alarm filled her. Was he ill? Was he in pain?
“You’re one of them.”
Alice blinked at him. “One of them?”
“A Christmas person.”
Oh. A Christmas person? What did he mean? She glanced down at her knitted sweater. It was red with a green Christmas tree on the front of it. There were foil baubles hanging off the tree. It was cute and adorable.
Not everyone could pull off the color red. But Alice had dark hair and a pale complexion that popped when she wore red.
George had liked her in black.
He’d never let her wear a Christmas sweater either. Alice nearly took it off, not wanting to offend her host.
However, she was getting kind of tired of changing herself so that everyone around her could be more comfortable.
Maybe once in a while someone else could adapt so that she was more comfortable?
Don’t be selfish, Alice.
Always thinking of yourself. Never of others. That’s not being a good friend. Or a good wife, now, is it?
She reached for the hem of the sweater.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” he demanded.
“Taking it off.”
“Why?”
Okay, now she was confused. He seemed upset that she was wearing a Christmas sweater and now he seemed upset that she was taking it off?
What the heck did this man want from her?
“Because it seems to upset you.”
He huffed. “Don’t like Christmas.”
“I figured that out,” she said. Then she bit her lip.
Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Alice.
When the hell would George get out of her head?
However, he didn’t look annoyed. If anything, his lips twitched.
That must be her imagination running wild again.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t like it. Don’t like makeup, either. Or shopping. Or romance novels. Doesn’t mean you can’t like those things.”
“How do you know I like those things?” she demanded.
She did. She just wasn’t sure how he knew.
“Educated guess. Get settled. You eaten?”
“Um, no. But you don’t have to cook for me.”
“Wasn’t going to. I’ve eaten already.”
Right. She hadn’t and her stomach chose that moment to grumble. He’d already turned away and she prayed he hadn’t heard it.
“You want to cook, you can. Just clean up after.”
“Oh, thank you.”
As he left the room, she suddenly realized that she didn’t even know his name.