Chapter 18
Eighteen
A wet, snuffling nose pressed against my cheek.
I jolted awake—so hard I nearly rolled right off the bed. My heart was hammering when my brain finally caught up with my surroundings.
I blinked. Then George came into focus.
The giant dog stood beside the mattress, his tail wagging with a slow, lazy thump, tongue lolling like he’d just accomplished a great personal victory.
I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to my chest. “Jesus, George, you scared me half to death.”
He dropped a stuffed hotdog onto my pillow, then backed up a step, clearly expecting me to engage.
I glanced toward the living room, wondering why I was the morning’s target and not Dean, but the couch was empty. The blankets were neatly folded and stacked on one of the chairs.
Had I really been that out of it? So much that he’d gotten ready and left without my hearing a thing?
Then I looked down, finding my nightshirt twisted to my waist, the sheets kicked to the edge of the bed, and my panties fully exposed for the whole cabin to see.
My head snapped up, eyes darting toward the doorway as if I half-expected Dean to be standing there.
He wasn’t—thank God.
I shifted to the edge of the bed, my bare feet sinking onto the cool floorboards, but the chill came as a sharp contrast to the sudden flush rising up my cheeks.
Had I been like that all night?
This morning when he’d left?
Face down, ass to the world—the way I’d gotten accustomed to sleeping after a decade of living alone.
The thought of him seeing me in such a vulnerable state made my stomach swoop uncomfortably.
I wouldn’t have been the first woman he’d seen in that position—though that thought wasn’t comforting at all. Because it wasn’t the idea of him seeing a woman that bothered me. It was the fact that that woman had been me that lit every cell in my body on fire.
What was worse… I didn’t know if the heat growing inside me came entirely from embarrassment.
“Get over yourself, Em,” I muttered. “Even if he did see you, he probably didn’t give you a second glance.”
But then my mind traveled back to the way he’d looked at me last night. To the heat in his expression, the tension so thick between us you could have cut it with a knife.
I shoved the thought aside and reached for my cell from the bedside table—7:55 a.m.
What in the world was he doing up this early?
I shook the thought from my mind because it was none of my business. The less time I spent worrying about Dean Weston, the better.
I swiped open my email, but the wheel only spun and spun, until the “No Service” notification blinked across my Home Screen.
“Shit,” I muttered, pushing myself off the bed. There was a lodge directory on the table, and I hurried toward it, flipping through the few pages, searching for the Wi-Fi password. I got all the way through it and found nothing.
“Strange,” I whispered, even as a sinking feeling settled in my gut.
I picked up the phone from the cradle, placed it to my ear and pressed the button for the front desk.
The phone rang several times before a woman answered. “This is Brittney. How can I help you?”
Relief loosened my shoulders. “Hi Brittney, I’m a guest in one of the cabins, and I can’t seem to locate the Wi-Fi password. Can you help me?”
There was a long pause before she answered. “I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t have Wi-Fi available in our cabins.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course they didn’t. “Okay… Well, can you give me directions to the business center? I just need to send an email, it's very important—”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but there’s actually no internet anywhere on the resort,” she cut me off. “I thought everyone knew that. The family comes here to unplug. To recharge—”
But I stopped listening because my head was spinning. No Wi-Fi? No cell service? What kind of place was this? Then I remembered Dean and Thomas’ conversation at the party. About the gas station down the road being the only place with cell service.
“It’s okay. Thank you for your time.” I hung up the phone without waiting for her answer.
Five minutes later, my face was washed, I was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and I’d found Dean’s keys beside his suitcase.
I hesitated at the front door, where George trotted over with his leash hanging from his mouth. Guilt pricked over my stomach. “I’m just taking it for a minute. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
George tilted his head to the side, as though trying to understand me. Then he huffed out a breath and sat at my feet. I crouched down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears—part bribe, part apology—before straightening and grabbing my briefcase.
The Jeep felt enormous compared to my BMW—like driving a piece of farm equipment instead of a car.
I scanned the unfamiliar dashboard, trying to locate the parking brake.
My fingers fumbled over the release, and when it finally shifted into reverse the Jeep lurched backward, and I instantly slammed on the breaks.
My pulse was thudding, and I hadn’t even made it out of the parking spot yet.
“You can do this,” I muttered. “Nice and easy.”
I eased my foot onto the accelerator again, and this time I rolled forward without a problem, my eyes locked on the wooden sign that pointed toward the lodge.
The gravel crunched under the tires, and I was aware of every tiny sound around me.
I felt like a teenager sneaking out of my room, and had to remind myself that I was a grown woman who could do anything I wanted to do.
Still, I was thankful when I didn’t see a single soul the entire drive to the main road.
When I got there, I realized I hadn’t been paying any attention on our way up here, and mentally kicked myself for it. I had no idea where I was going, but then a sign came from above…a lone car drove from somewhere in the distance.
In that split second, I decided to follow it.
I merged onto the tree-lined street, my hands gripping the wheels so tight that my knuckles felt numb. There were no signs. No houses. Nothing but mother nature around me—for miles.
I was just about to turn back when a squat, weathered gas station came into view up ahead.
I pulled into the parking lot, but the car I’d been following carried on without me.
Panic settled into my chest because I realized in that moment that I was very much alone—in the middle of nowhere—without cell service.
But then I glanced at my phone on the passenger seat, and two welcoming bars blinked to life at the top of my phone screen. “Oh, thank God,” I whispered—just as a loud knock sounded at my window.
I jumped in my seat, then turned toward an old man standing outside. He gave me a cranking gesture with one hand, silently asking me to roll down my window.
I cracked it open, and he leaned into the frame, his forearm pressing against the glass. “We’re out of gas,” he said. “Been waiting for the delivery for hours. Didn’t want you to come in and be disappointed.”
I blinked. “That’s fine, actually—I’m just here to send an email. The place I’m staying at doesn’t have internet.”
A grin exposed his pearly oversized dentures. “Pine Ridge?” he asked, his tone hinting at the fact I wasn’t the first person who’d come there in search of a signal. “We’ve got Wi-Fi inside,” he offered. “My wife just made a fresh pot of coffee. Come on in.”
I checked the time. I’d only been gone fifteen minutes, and it would be much easier to send an email from my computer than to peck out a message on my phone.
I nodded, then climbed out of the jeep and followed him inside.
The bell above the door gave a half-hearted jingle when we entered, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the cozy quiet. The place smelled of coffee—strong and fresh—and something sweet, like cinnamon.
It looked exactly as I’d imagined. Old postcards lined up on a wire rack, linoleum floor with years of scuff marks, a single table sat near a window, littered with magazines.
The old man shuffled toward the table, clearing the mess with practiced ease.
“Patty,” he called toward the back, raising his voice. “We have a customer!”
A white-haired woman poked her head up from behind the counter, squinting. “What’s that?”
“A young lady from Pine Ridge—needs our internet,” he repeated, tapping the wall where the Wi-Fi password was posted on a golden placard.
She frowned, as though she wasn’t sure what he’d just said, then disappeared into the back.
I turned toward my briefcase, pulled out my laptop, then began connecting to the internet—but when I looked up, the woman was suddenly by my table, a carafe in one hand, and a mug in the other.
“I’m sorry,” I said, patting my pockets even though I already knew they were empty. “I left my wallet back in my cabin.”
“Oh, nonsense, Sloane” she said, setting down the cup before filling it with steaming coffee.
“We’ll put it on your tab. Bring it next time—I know you’re good for it.
” She winked then and reached into the pocket of her floral apron to retrieve a handful of creamers, which she promptly dropped onto the table. “Sugar?” she asked.
“I’m not—” but the old man was shaking his head at me by the register, as though telling me to be quiet.
I turned to the woman again and grinned. “No. This is perfect,” I stuttered. “Thank you.”
She nodded once, then promptly shuffled back over to a counter, where she set the carafe down with a soft clink and disappeared into the back room again.
I took a deep breath, relieved to be alone again, and within moments I was connected to Wi-Fi.
“Thank you, Jesus!”
At least a dozen new messages popped up in my inbox—lighting up the screen and filling me with anxiety. There was no way I had time to answer them all right now. Not with a borrowed Jeep—and Dean hopefully still unaware I was gone.
I opened a new email and started typing fast.
Subject: Family Emergency—Temporary Delay in Communication
Dear Clients,