Chapter Ten

Lorn

I open my cabin door and hold it for Rayne. “After you,” I say.

Her resulting smile affects me, but I have to admit my intentions aren’t entirely gentlemanly. She saunters past, and I take a nice long look at her round, perfect ass. There’s so much more of her that I want to explore, that I want to know.

That I want to lick.

She turns back and catches me looking. She flashes me a sexy grin and then turns back toward the trail. I can’t help but follow.

Hoo boy, am I in trouble.

It takes three strides for me to catch up to her, and when I do, we walk side by side, our arms brushing every once in a while. I’ve forgotten what this feels like, the blush of first attraction. It’s never a bad start to the day, being buried to the hilt in the body of a beautiful woman. Memories of our night together and this morning after flash through my memory. I cast a glance over in the direction of the hot springs and make a little promise to myself.

I’m going to have her in there, one of these days, before her little month of “being away” is up.

I frown at that thought. She may think she’s fooling me, but I know a lie when I hear one. She’s hiding something. I’m starting to trust her, which is saying something for me after all this time, but I know she gets it. She’s from the same world I’m from. She knows what it’s like to be liked for everything but yourself.

There’s a reason movie stars often only date one another. It’s so hard to find a person who understands, who sees the person underneath, who doesn’t care about or need the money or attention.

It’s the ultimate first-world problem, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a desperately lonely way to live.

The snow crunches beneath my boots, hardened from a day without a fresh coat. The sound resonates in the silent woods around us, and I breathe in the scent of snow and pine. I’m so often reminded of why I chose to come here, that this was a good decision.

Now that Rayne has provided some much-needed company, it’s all the better.

I reach down and lace my gloved fingers with hers. Her eyes are bright and watery in the cold, and with the sunlight beaming down upon us, I manage to catch a few flecks of mint green among the moss.

I’ve never seen eyes like those.

The path opens up to the clearing and the hill that leads to the main cabin. I hold fast to Rayne’s hand and take the lead as I turn sideways to carefully descend to the building.

“I’m not going to fall, you know.”

“I don’t know. You’ve already fallen once before.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t mean I’m going to fall every time. If you didn’t notice from yesterday, I made it down this hill on my own when I ran into you last time. Not a bruise or bump on me from the harrowing experience.”

“Are you seriously arguing your way out of holding my hand? After all we’ve been through?”

My tone makes her laugh, and I’m glad to hear it. I used to be funny once. The life of the party. A flame that burned a little too bright, until I got scorched and had to rise from my own ashes.

And look where that got me.

We reach the bottom of the hill, and I release Rayne’s hand as we approach the cabin’s main door. I step over the four front porch steps with one bound.

“Oh, please,” Rayne says.

I turn and look back at her. “What?”

“Now you’re showing off?”

I shrug. “Can’t help the long legs. They get me from here to there.”

“So do mine.”

“Yes. Just twenty minutes later.”

“What are we fixing today anyway?”

“Follow me, and you’ll find out.”

I like bantering with Rayne. She keeps up with me, which I haven’t come across all that often. The women I’ve met in my life who look like Rayne usually don’t know how to do simple math, much less keep up with a witty conversation. They are arm candy, and, much like candy, they enjoy being silent and sweet.

Not my cup of tea, if I’m honest.

I think about Natalie. Why did I explain myself to Rayne this morning? Natalie destroyed my life, all for a payout. I know Rayne doesn’t need the money—after all, she’s rented out the entire place—but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s hiding something.

Could she be a reporter, sent here to get the scoop on me? Even as the thought arrives, I dismiss it. Now that I know who Rayne is, her story solidifies a little more clearly in my mind. She’s the famous daughter of a former lawyer. Former. The man was killed, I think.

She’s as much an orphan as I am. I don’t think we’ll start any renditions of “Hard Knock Life” yet, though.

“Are you thirsty?” I ask.

She nods. “A little.”

“Come on back here. We’ve got bottled water and such.”

I hand her a bottle of water and take one for myself, then guide us toward the back of the cabin to the generator. Rayne takes a sip then twists the cap back onto her bottle before setting it on the snowy ground.

“So, what’s the trouble with it?” she asks.

“Not much. Just needs a tune-up. We don’t want to be left without a generator up here. Not with the kinds of storms we can get.”

“Got it. You got tools?”

I blink at her. Does she expect to do the tune-up herself or something? “Yes. Back here.”

I step into an old shed and bring out a red metal toolbox. She sifts around inside and plucks out a flashlight and a few other tools before she opens a compartment and gets to work.

“I wasn’t aware they taught the trades at finishing school,” I say with my arms crossed.

She glances back at me and scoffs. “I own a lot of bakeries, remember? I didn’t get successful managing them from a tower. A good boss gets in at the ground level and understands every aspect of how things work. You think I want raw dough if the power goes out in one of my places?”

It’s practical, really, but surprising. I find a new level of respect for this woman as she tweaks a few wires and tries the generator.

When it doesn’t turn on, she glances back at me and asks, “No gas?”

“No. It’s getting cold enough to get it set up. You want to try some?”

“I mean, it’s your fix. Do you want to try some?”

I grin and walk back into the shed. I pull out a sloshing gas can and pour some into the nozzle then step back. Rayne doesn’t miss a beat. She turns on the generator, and it hums to life, like new.

“That was easy,” she says, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Now what are we going to fix?”

I can’t help myself. I simply stand and stare at her while she waits for the next project. I remember seeing a picture of her once in a bright red ball gown. That woman and this one do not reconcile… or maybe they do, and that makes her all the more alluring.

She balls her hands into fists and plants them on her hips. “Oh, come now, Lorn. If you’re going to be stunned by a woman who can work a machine, we’re not going to last long out here.”

“What made you go into the food industry? Why didn’t you want to get into the family business?” I’m curious about her. How much is she willing to share? Clearly her reasons for being here are out, but there’s a whole lot of life that came before this. Just who is the real Rayne Carr?

Her expression darkens, and she looks away as she sets the tools back into the box. “I don’t want to be a lawyer. It’s not my thing. I’ve always been more of a creative person anyway.”

I take the tool box and the gas and place them back inside the shed. When I step back out, Rayne’s demeanor has changed.

“I think I’d like to go back to my cabin now, if that’s all right.”

“Of course it’s all right. You paid good money for it.”

That warm glow that enveloped us after sex this morning is dissolving in the cool light of day. I don’t know what I said to turn her off, but she’s not looking at me as we hike back up the hill and trudge down the path to her cottage. When we get there, no smoke pours from the chimney.

I guess that’s what she wants though, isn’t it?

I walk her up to the front porch steps even though I can tell I’ve triggered something unpleasant in her. I glance down and notice a boot print in the snow. It doesn’t match my treads.

“Huh,” I say.

“What?” Her eyes are still anywhere but me.

“Just noticed this footprint. Doesn’t look familiar. Definitely a man’s foot though.”

“What?” Rayne’s voice is panicked as she kneels and stares at the boot print like her life depends on demystifying its origins. “What the hell is this? Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?” Her tone has risen several octaves, and I step back.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, and I didn’t tell you sooner because I just noticed it. Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not freaking out! Just leave me alone. I need to figure this out, and I need to lock myself inside, now.”

This is ridiculous. Whatever she’s hiding, it’s not good. What did she bring to this place?

Or whom?