Chapter Fifteen

Rayne

I wake up to the scent of eggs cooking.

When I open my eyes, the flickering fire of Lorn’s woodstove hovers over me, and memories of the night come flashing back.

The nightmare. Lorn, hero of the night, crashing in to rescue me. Then the sex.

I stretch out and realize that I’m sore. Everywhere. I’ve never done sex from behind before. Now I’m mad about that. I had no idea what I was missing. The angle, the penetration, the ability to reach my own clit in the process… just the thought of doing it again has me turned on.

Lorn isn’t beside me, and sexy thoughts dissolve as I try and puzzle out where he went. I do smell eggs cooking, but that can’t have anything to do with Lorn. Lorn can barely boil water.

I sit up and my boobs fall right out of the blanket. I glance up and see Lorn at the stove, his broad, naked back to me. He’s put on his pants, but that’s all, and it’s a nice view. I locate my own nightie, wrinkled in a pile on the couch, and slide it over my head. Before I head to the kitchen, I duck into Lorn’s room, so I can use the bathroom and tidy up a bit.

When I step back out, Lorn has filled two plates with what appear to be some decent-looking omelets.

“What is this wizardry?” I ask with fake wonderment. Lorn glances back at me and smirks. A small dimple appears on his cheek, and I want to kiss it. I want to kiss all of his face and wrap him in my arms and…

And what the hell, Rayne? That sounds dangerously like romance, and I’m not dealing with that now. The sex is amazing. Maybe Lorn can be my burly mountain-man fantasy, lived out over a month. Then I can go back to my former life and be myself again.

Maybe find a clean-cut boyfriend who loves to take me from behind.

Lorn shovels some beans onto each plate as the side dish—apparently, we’re blending American and European cuisine this morning—and holds out a plate to me.

“What can I say? You’re clearly having some kind of impact on me. I have to believe you’re hungry after last night, and I don’t remember seeing you eat since breakfast yesterday.”

This brings back the painful memory of our fight and general falling out. I want to erase that memory. I like Lorn so much better when he smiles at me.

“I ate, but after our adventures in the wee hours of the morning, I could go for some protein, for sure.”

“Like I said. Thought you might.” He leans down and plants a kiss on my neck. My skin tingles as he pulls away, and I am aware that I’m not wearing anything beneath my flimsy gown.

We can’t have sex all the damn time, I remind myself with a stern inner voice. Yeah, you tell me, stern voice. I’m going to focus on food and not Lorn’s perfectly framed chest with that funny little clock and the weird phrase “Die Standing” on it. I never liked tattoos on men either, but my god do they suit Lorn. It’s funny to think of the pristine, shaved, suited up billionaire from New York and equate him to the man who stands before me now.

They are not the same person, surely.

I slide into a kitchen chair, and a strange feeling fills me as I cut into my cheese omelet. I don’t know what I expected from this trip, but the whole thing has felt surreal. First off, I did not expect to jump into bed with a former Wall-Street-kid-turned-mountain-hermit. It’s like my two worlds found a way to collide, but in the weirdest way.

“Are you ever going to leave here?” I ask after I swallow my first bite.

Not bad, for a terrible cook. At any rate, it’s edible.

Lorn takes a bite then looks up at me and considers my question as he chews. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, Lorn. You can’t hide up here forever. There is a whole world beyond these mountains, a world that you were a part of. Don’t you miss any of it?”

“No,” he says.

When he doesn’t elaborate, I press a little more. I want to know. How can a man be so burned by one crazy press story as to give up the entire civilized world forever? It makes no sense.

“I bet if you came back, no one would even bring up that story. You could shower in a nice hotel, dine on gourmet food, and travel to exotic locales.”

“I have all I need out here. I know what it’s like to have nothing, and here I have plenty.”

I laugh. When he looks at me, there is a hardness in his eyes that tells me he’s not joking.

“You can’t be serious. You have wanted for nothing since the day of your birth. How can you know what it’s like to have nothing?”

He hesitates, and I can tell there’s another big secret pending. I glance down at his strange tattoo and connect a dot. At least, maybe it’s a dot. “You said that you fell in with the wrong crowd, then had to get your act together after your dad died. Was this from that wrong-crowd period of your life? Did you try out life on the streets or something?”

“Or something,” he says and takes a swig of water. I stare pointedly at him and cross my arms. When he looks back at me, I see that he knows I’m not letting up until he stops being so damn cryptic.

Because you’re never cryptic, says a little voice.

Shut your mouth, Voice. I’m about to get some answers here.

Lorn sighs and sets down his fork.

“I used to arrange robberies. Get a nice payout for some friends of mine.”

I choke on my water, my eyes wide as I stare at him. “You what?”

Lorn shrugs, like theft is no big deal. “I only hacked into places my father owned. Because I hated him so much, I could justify it to myself. I could until the day I got caught, anyway. My dad was so pissed that when I called to get bailed out of jail, he refused to pay my way out. My family left me in jail for a year.”

I swallow.

“You… were in jail?”

“Yeah. I got the tattoos after. A lot of the other scars, both physical and mental happened inside. When I got out, I knew I had to change something in my life. It was a valuable lesson.”

All I can think about is Larry Corker, sitting in jail, perhaps striking up a nice friendship with Lorn the conman. My stomach lurches.

“Was the valuable lesson that being an ex-con has its advantages when dealing with stranded women?” I can’t keep the accusation and bitterness out of my voice, and Lorn’s expression clouds over as he narrows his eyes at me.

“I told you a personal part of my history. Are you seriously going to pass judgment over me for that, even when you know I’ve changed?”

“How do I know that? How do I know anything about you? You spend all this time worrying about my life—it didn’t once occur to you to tell me that you’re a criminal?” I ask.

“Not everyone who goes to jail is a criminal. The point of the prison system is to correct behavior.”

“Please. You think I believe that? I know what prison does to men. My father was a lawyer. I saw what they’re like firsthand. People don’t change. Prison simply keeps others safe from them until they’re set free.”

“Wow. So, that’s your opinion of me now, huh? After everything I’ve done for you? After everything I’ve trusted you with? I tell you one small facet of my life and off you go, making judgments. I should never have trusted you in the first place. I can’t believe I keep letting you dupe me into helping you.”

“Dupe you? Going to prison is not a small facet of one’s life, Lorn. How can I feel safe with someone like you?”

With someone exactly like Larry. How many times did Lorn think about getting out, so he could harm the lawyer who locked him up? What if he acted on it in some way?

I’m not safe here. I have to escape.

“Get out,” Lorn breathes.

His eyes are downcast. A part of my brain is yelling at me that I’m being stupid, but fear wins out, as it always does.

Fear is what has kept me alive this long, with my father having so many enemies. It’s the only way I can protect myself.

“Gladly,” I huff.

I slide my chair back, but when I stand, I’m wearing nothing but a slim nightgown, and the world outside is frigid. Lorn makes no move to help my situation, so I grab a pair of his enormous boots and slide my tiny feet into them. I’ll look like a clown making the walk of shame back home, but there’s nothing for it.

“You’ll find your boots on my front porch. Don’t worry, I won’t steal them.”

He makes no response, and I storm out of his cabin. When I step outside, a gust of wind shoots straight up my dress, and I shiver as I flop back to my cabin in Lorn’s freakishly large boots.

How could I ever have liked a man that big, anyway?

I slip out of them as I reach my busted front door and run inside. The fire it basically dead – I’ll have to start it up again. The first thing I want to do is change out of this nightgown and throw it in the fire. It has remnants of Lorn on it, and that’s the last thing I want.

I storm into my bedroom and throw open a few drawers. There’s a plaid shirt I want to wear to warm up this morning, but as I sift through the drawers, I can’t find it.

I search some more, and I realize other items of my clothing have gone missing. I’m not crazy. I remember putting them away, and I have a great memory. Just ask my nightmares.

That’s it. I can’t take this place anymore. This was a huge mistake. Tears blur my vision as I tug my suitcase out from beneath the bed and throw everything I brought back inside.

I weep over the fact that I’ll never be free from the fear as I tug on a pair of thick wool socks and my trendy little hiking boots. I sweep the cabin one last time to check if I may have dropped some items somewhere else, but I know I didn’t.

Someone has stolen my things. I have a few guesses as to who it may be, but either way, staying here is no longer an option.

My chest grows tight, and my breath is labored as I drag my suitcase to the front door and step over it. I glance around—the snow is bare of prints, scraped over with something large and flat. The trails are empty, and I set off to get to the main cabin. I can use the phone to call a car, and then I’ll be gone.

I’ll have to hire round-the-clock security and live in a bubble forever. That’s all.

Oh, and forget all about Lorn Hart.