Show Me (Play Me #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

Audrey

“Oh, rats.”

“What’s wrong?” Astrid asks, her voice barely audible through the speakers. Sleet pounds the windshield so fast and hard that my wipers can’t keep up. “Do you see the driveway?”

I lean forward, squinting through the blowing snowflakes assaulting my Jeep and into the thin strip of visibility created by my headlights.

This situation has all the hallmarks of a horror movie—specifically the scene that’s so ridiculous the viewer shakes their head and thinks, “Who really puts themselves in that predicament?”

Answer? Me, apparently.

My knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel. “I think I missed it. Everything is just so … dark.”

“Keep going,” Astrid says. “Unless you drive into the creek, you can’t go too far.”

My foot lifts off the accelerator. “Now is a fabulous time for you to mention that I could drive headfirst into a body of water.”

“There’s a ramp. You’ll notice and have time to stop.”

Great.

A knot tightens in my belly, reminding me that it’s not too late.

I can still turn around and go home, where it’s dry, bright, and familiar.

I’ve considered this more than a hundred times since I decided this afternoon, for the first time in my life, to say to heck with it all and be spontaneous.

I left a whole day early and made the hour-and-a-half-long trek to Sugar Creek tonight.

In the dark.

During a winter storm.

The reevaluation of my decision is to be expected, and not just because of the weather.

Impulsive, fun adventures aren’t Audrey Van coded at all.

Overthinking and staying in my comfort zone?

That’s where I’ve lived the past twenty-seven years, and it’s also why I push the accelerator again … carefully, of course.

“Hey,” I say, somehow managing to sit even taller in my seat. “I think that’s it! There’s a fence with a bird sculpture thingy on it.”

“Yes. Take a left there, and you’ve made it.”

Thank God. My shoulders drop in relief as I pilot the car from the gravel road onto the driveway.

“Service can be spotty out there,” Astrid warns for the third time today. “If our call drops, that’s why. Once you get inside the cabin, it should work just fine. If not, text Hartley. Texts usually work even if calls drop, and he’ll come over and get you all fixed up.”

I smile. “Sounds good.”

Hartley Adler, Astrid’s boyfriend’s brother and the owner of Blackbird Ranch, is an absolute sweetheart. We’ve met a few times over the past year, and every time, I walk away thinking he’s amazing. He’s kind and smart—a real salt-of-the-earth kind of guy.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I say. “Did you remember to tell him that I’m coming tonight and not tomorrow like we originally planned?”

“Gray left him a message. A fence line went down in the storm this afternoon, so Hartley and some of the guys were out there trying to get it fixed.”

I balk. “He’s out there in this?”

She laughs. “That’s life on the ranch, Auddie. It doesn’t stop for anything, least of all the weather.”

The sleet turns into tiny balls of ice, flinging themselves against the windshield. I whisper a prayer of gratitude as I roll to a stop in front of Astrid and Gray’s cabin. Just in time.

“I’m officially here and parked,” I say, surveying as much of my surroundings as possible.

I’ve been to the cabin once since Astrid moved to the ranch for the rugby offseason with Gray.

But it was a quick afternoon trip with our friend Gianna, and unfortunately for me, everything looks different at eight o’clock at night in January.

“Finally.” She sighs heavily. “I can relax now.”

“You and me both.” I lean forward, noticing a glow from inside the house. “Hey, there’s a light on. Is that normal?”

“Yeah. I always leave a small lamp on in the kitchen, and Gray hasn’t turned a light off in his life. It gets so dark that you’ll break your neck trying to get a drink in the middle of the night. Ask me how I know.”

I smile. “Okay. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t walking into a robbery or something.”

“Out there?” She laughs. “I hate to say never, but that’s never going to happen. The only way to the cabin requires you to pass Hartley’s house, and he doesn’t miss much.”

Except for when he’s not there … like tonight.

My instincts grow louder, warning me to reassess the potential for danger.

Run. Flee. Save yourself, Audrey! But instead of listening to my gut, I take a breath and shove the logic out of my brain.

It’s counterintuitive, and it feels irresponsible, but you have to crack some eggs to make an omelet.

And I’m here to whip up something delicious.

“Well, I should probably let you go,” I say, my voice betraying me with a wobble. “I need to figure out how to get my stuff out of the car and into the cabin while it’s sleeting.”

“Just go in. Grab something of mine out of the closet to wear tonight, and I left a bunch of skincare products in our bathroom. The closet in the hallway has extra toothbrushes and toothpaste. Use that and get your stuff in the morning when it’s hopefully warmer and drier.”

That makes this feel slightly more manageable and a lot more like going inside is a done deal.

I sigh, and Astrid doesn’t miss it.

“Enjoy yourself, Auddie,” she says softly. “If it’s peace and quiet you’re after, you won’t find another place better than Blackbird Ranch.” She pauses. “Well, at least you’ll find it at our cabin. If you stop at Hartley’s or at any of the barns, I can’t promise that it’ll be peaceful or quiet.”

I grin softly. “Thanks again for letting me borrow your home. And thank Gray for me, too. I appreciate this very much.”

“Of course. What’s mine is yours.”

“You’re the best. I’ll text you when I’m inside and all settled.”

“Perfect. Have fun!”

“I will. Love you, Astrid.”

“Love you, Auddie. Bye.”

The call ends, and I shut off the Jeep. Without the headlights, I’m surrounded by a deep, suffocating darkness. It’s as if the world ends on the other side of the glass.

Aside from ice chips pelting the roof and the glow from the kitchen, there’s … nothing. No light, no sound, and no movement. Not a solitary sign of life. There is, however, just enough space for a dose of fear to creep up my spine, threatening to erase my excitement about being here.

I grab my phone and type out a quick text to Gianna. If anyone can distract me and override the incoming wave of anxiety, it’s her.

Me: Made it!

Her response comes immediately.

Gianna: I know you drive like a grandma, but that seriously took forever. I have no fingernails left.

Me: The weather got worse the farther I got from Nashville.

Gianna: You owe me a manicure. But you’re inside, and the doors are locked now?

Me: I’m sitting in my locked car, about to go inside the cabin and lock that door swiftly behind me.

Gianna: Okay. Text me later. You have my taser, right?

I giggle.

Me: Yes. It’s in my purse.

Gianna: Get it in your hand. Have I not taught you anything? How are you going to use it if you’re not wielding it?

Me: Excellent point.

Gianna: Love you.

Me: xoxoxo

I pause, staring at the screen and appreciating how lucky I am to have friends like Gianna and Astrid.

The three of us met in our first year of high school after my father took a job in Nashville.

It was culture shock being from Boston, and my brother absolutely hated it.

I, however, fell madly in love with everything about Tennessee, and having Astrid and Gianna welcome me into their fold was the cherry on top.

Shivering, I slide my phone into my purse and contemplate getting out the taser. But what are the odds that I need it? Besides, after a second look at the steps leading into the cabin, I’ll probably need both hands free in case I fall on the ice.

“The first step is always the hardest,” I say, bracing for the cold.

I grab my laptop bag from the passenger’s seat and tuck it into my jacket. Then I open my door, testing the slipperiness of the ground. It’s slick, but not too terribly treacherous, so I gingerly step out and swing the door shut behind me.

“Oh, this is nasty,” I whimper, making a beeline to the porch while getting pummeled with precipitation.

The steps are coated with a glaze of sleet, and it takes careful use of the railing and all the balance I learned as a ballerina in my younger years to ascend them without my feet sliding right out from under me.

By the time I make it inside, my teeth are chattering like a woodpecker.

“Maybe I should’ve waited until spring to have my personal awakening,” I groan, finding the light switch. As soon as the chandelier comes on, a wave of apple and cinnamon-scented air envelops me. It’s as if I’ve stepped into a cozy cocoon in the middle of the tundra.

For the first time since I left my house in Nashville, I can let my guard down.

I scan the room, taking in the patchwork of rustic features and modern touches.

A stone fireplace, with a thick beam serving as the mantel, anchors the living area on my left.

A chessboard sits mid-game on an antique map table in front of a worn brown leather sofa.

That makes me smile. Chess is the only thing Astrid and Gray had in common when they first met.

As soon as they started playing on the same board, so to speak, everything changed, and they fell in love.

“This place is too cute,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence. I can see myself stretched out under the quilt thrown over the sofa—planning and plotting and putting things in motion.

I slip off my shoes and deposit my things on the console in the foyer. My wet clothes cling to my body, holding the chill against my bones.

I turn on every light I pass on my way to Astrid’s bedroom.

Dad used to point out that turning the lights on only made my location clearer to the monsters I was afraid were chasing me from the kitchen to my room.

Logically, that makes sense, but it’s a piece of logic I’ve never been able to use.

I’ll trade immediate gratification that my surroundings are monster-free, even if it tips the predator-prey balance against me later.

“Where is the switch?” I whisper, sliding my hand around the wall of Astrid’s room. I nudge what I believe to be a picture frame before my fingers hit the lever. “There you are.”

I flick it upward, and a soft halogen glow paints the room.

I spend no time appreciating the thick green bedding or the adorable picture of Gray and Astrid on the nightstand.

It’s cold, I’m freezing, and the noise from the storm outside is crazy loud.

Instead, I race to the closet and rifle through Astrid’s drawers until I find a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

I tug off my socks and shove my jeans down my hips until they pool on the floor around my feet. Stepping out of them, I pull my sweatshirt over my head and drop it next to me. As I turn to grab the sweatpants, I catch a glimpse of myself in a full-length mirror and pause. “Oh.”

My cheeks are rosy and my lips bright red from biting them while I drove.

Neither surprises me after that wild trip.

But what does shock me is the baby-blue lingerie Gianna forced me to buy because it matches my eyes.

It’s been in my dresser for over a year, untouched.

The bra is practically see-through, and the panties are so small that they’re pointless.

But they are pretty, feminine, sexy—everything I’ve never been.

Until now. Even if I have to fake it first.

I gather my damp, cold clothes from the floor and then round the corner in search of a hot shower. But I only make it two steps into the bedroom when my entire body freezes.

My scream pierces the air.

A tall, muscular, and very, very naked man stands on the other side of the bed. His eyes glued to me.

“Ah!”