Chapter Two
The pillow between us had migrated toward my side.
I hadn’t touched it. Talia hadn’t moved in several minutes, either, so I left it there and stared at the ceiling while the fan pushed warm air across the room.
The mattress shifted.
“Did I move the pillow?” she asked softly.
“A little.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s a pillow.”
“It was also the boundary.”
I moved it back to the middle.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
That should’ve ended the conversation.
It didn’t end anything else.
My shirt hung loose on her, one bare thigh showing where the sheet had twisted around her legs. Her curls covered half the pillow beneath her head. Without the diamonds, gold, and stilettos, she should’ve seemed less like a woman dropped into the wrong life.
Instead, she looked like she belonged in my bed, which was a much worse problem.
I turned onto my back again.
“Are you always this quiet?” she asked.
“Usually.”
“That sounds peaceful.”
“It was.”
Her laugh came out small and tired, and I smiled before I could stop it.
“I walked into that one,” she said.
“You did.”
She settled deeper into the mattress. “What time are we leaving?”
“After breakfast, once there’s enough light for the road.”
“And my phone will work in town?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Her shoulders eased. She closed her eyes again, and this time I didn’t assume she was asleep.
I’d spent years making sure nobody could hand me responsibility for a life I hadn’t chosen.
Now a woman in my shirt was lying inches away because someone had done exactly that to both of us.
The pillow stayed between us.
My cock stayed hard.
I stayed awake until the window turned gray.
When I finally slipped out of bed, Talia’s breathing remained slow and even. I took clean clothes from the dresser, crossed the main room, and closed the bathroom door before changing.
The mirror over the sink showed a man who’d slept less than two hours and had no idea why a glamorous stranger had been delivered to his house.
I washed my face and pulled on jeans and a faded-blue work shirt. By the time I came out, sunlight had reached the table.
Talia lay on her side with one hand curled beneath her cheek. The pillow had fallen to the floor, and she’d moved closer to the middle of the bed without crossing it. My shirt had ridden higher over her thigh.
I stayed long enough to know I needed to leave the room, then backed out and pulled the door almost closed.
Breakfast required more imagination than the refrigerator deserved.
I toasted bread in a skillet, sliced two apples, and set out the last of the turkey. It wasn’t much, but we’d be in town before lunch.
The bedroom door opened while I was putting plates on the table.
Talia came out wearing my shirt over her leopard-print top and black skirt. Her curls had been smoothed into some kind of order, her face was freshly washed, and every diamond she’d removed the night before was back where it belonged. She carried her stilettos by the straps.
My shirt covered most of the leopard print. It did nothing to hide the diamonds or her bare legs.
Her gaze moved over my shirt. “You changed.”
“I usually do in the morning.”
“I meant the color.”
“I own more than one.”
“That’s reassuring.”
She sat and placed the shoes beside her chair. “I need to borrow your bathroom again before we leave.”
“You don’t need permission.”
“I know. I’m being considerate.”
“That’s also reassuring.”
She smiled.
I pushed a plate toward her.
She studied the toast, apple slices, and turkey. “Is this breakfast?”
“It’s what I have.”
“You warned me.”
“I did.”
She picked up a slice of apple. “I’m trying not to interpret the food shortage as a personal rejection.”
“The refrigerator didn’t know you were coming.”
“That’s a very practical response to an emotional statement.”
“It was also true.”
She bit into the apple and looked out the window. Morning light touched the gold at her wrist and picked out the dust still clinging to the toes of her shoes.
“I’m aware that I need clothes,” she said.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“You looked at my shoes.”
“They’re beside my table.”
“You looked critically.”
“I looked at the dirt.”
Talia lifted one shoe and examined the narrow heel. “They’ve had a difficult twenty-four hours.”
“So have you.”
Her eyes met mine.
For once, she didn’t answer immediately.
An engine climbed the road outside.
I set down my glass.
The sound was too rough to belong to a delivery truck and too familiar to ignore. Cade’s pickup came through the trees, dust rolling behind it.
I was out the door before he stopped.
Cade parked beside my truck and climbed down. His work shirt was wrinkled, and grease streaked two of his fingers. He had a manila folder tucked beneath one arm.
He glanced at me, then toward the open cabin door.
“She’s here, isn’t she?”
Every muscle across my shoulders tightened.
“Cade, what did you do?”
Talia stepped onto the porch behind me. She’d put on her stilettos. My shirt still covered most of her leopard-print top, but the black skirt, diamonds, and expression made it clear she wasn’t hiding from anything.
Cade’s face lost what little color it had.
“Oh, hell.”
“That isn’t an answer,” I said.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I made the Mountain Mates profile.”
For a second, the words made no sense.
Then they did.
“You used my name?”
“Yes.”
“My pictures?”
“Yes.”
“My address?”
Cade swallowed. “Yes.”
Talia came down the step carefully and stopped beside me. “Did you accept my placement?”
Cade looked at her. “I accepted a request for Talia R.”
Her chin lifted. “You accepted me while pretending to be him.”
“Yes.”
I took one step toward Cade. “Why?”
“It was supposed to be a prank.”
“You sent a woman to my cabin as a prank?”
“No. I didn’t think anyone would come here.” His words rushed together. “I used my email and my number. I thought you’d get matched, there’d be some awkward messages, and then I’d tell you before it went anywhere.”
“You accepted the request.”
“I know.”
“You gave them my address.”
“It was already on your business listing.”
“That doesn’t make it yours to use.”
“I had no right.”
Talia folded her arms. “At what point did the woman become part of your joke?”
Cade met her eyes. “She didn’t. You didn’t. I saw the request from the concierge account, and it only said Talia R. I clicked accept because I thought it was still online nonsense. Then emails started coming in.”
“What emails?” I asked.
“Itinerary notices. Dates. A delivery window. I skimmed them. I thought they were automated reminders trying to make the match look official.”
“You thought travel details were decoration?”
“I thought nobody would put a person on a plane without talking to the man she was supposed to meet.”
Talia gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “My family believed the acceptance came from him.”
Cade closed his eyes for a second. “I understand that now. I got a delivery confirmation last night. I tried calling you, but your phone went to voicemail. I drove up as soon as there was enough light.”
I nodded toward the folder beneath his arm. “What’s in that?”
“Every message I could print, the profile information, and the login.” He held it out. “I deleted nothing.”
I took the folder and opened it on the hood of my truck.
The first page showed my photograph, my name, my business description, and an address Cade had no right to enter into anything. The contact email was his. So was the phone number.
The placement request identified her as Talia R.
There was no surname and no explanation for why a woman from New York had agreed to spend a week at a remote cabin with a stranger. The concierge messages confirmed dates and transportation without naming whoever had arranged her side.
Talia stood close enough to read over my arm. The diamonds at her wrist brushed the folder.
“You really didn’t know,” she said.
“I told you I didn’t.”
“I’m acknowledging new evidence.”
“That sounds painful.”
“It is.”
Despite everything, she almost smiled.
I turned another page. “You ignored all of this?”
Cade leaned against his truck but didn’t relax. “I saw the first itinerary notice and thought it was pressure to keep the match going. I didn’t read the rest until last night.”
“You didn’t read a delivery confirmation until after she’d been delivered?”
“I read that one. That’s why I’m here.”
“That isn’t better.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Talia turned to him. “You sent me to a man who had no idea I existed. I could’ve arrived alone. He could’ve been dangerous. He could’ve left days ago.”
Cade’s jaw tightened. “You’re right.”
“My driver left because your acceptance told my family this arrangement was legitimate.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
“I am.”
She waited until he shifted his weight.
I closed the folder. “You’ll forward every message once you reach service. You’ll also give me access to the account.”
“I will.”
“You aren’t coming back up here until I tell you to.”
His eyes met mine. “I understand.”
Cade climbed into his truck and backed down the road without another word.
Dust hung in the sunlight after he disappeared.
Talia stood beside me in my shirt, stilettos, and enough jewelry to pay for my truck twice over.
“I owe you an apology,” she said.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I accused you of lying.”
“You had evidence with my name on it.”
“I still accused you.”
“You were wrong.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You could make this easier.”
“I could.”
“You’re choosing not to.”
“I’m accepting your apology.”
“That didn’t sound like acceptance.”
“I believe you.”
She let out a breath that almost became a laugh. “Fine. I’m sorry I thought you’d arranged this and then pretended you hadn’t.”
“I accept.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She watched the road Cade had taken. “My father’s people verified your business and property. They must’ve assumed the digital acceptance was enough.”
“Did anyone speak to me?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t involved in the review.”
Her family had arranged the placement, and her father controlled the driver who’d left her at my cabin. Whatever else sat behind those facts belonged to her until she chose to tell me.