Page 12 of Hideaway Heart

“I’m sorry to hear that. But for the next two weeks, you’re stuck with me.”

She took a breath and tried a different tactic. “Well, you’ll have to sleep in your car, because there’s only one bed.”

“What about the couch?”

“Out of the question. This place is too small to share.”

“Do I get bathroom privileges?”

“No. Find a tree.”

I shrugged, pretty sure she was bluffing.

“And I don’t want to see you creeping at the windows either. No spying on me.”

“I’m not a spy, Kelly.”

“Whatever. For my brother’s sake, I will attempt to tolerate your presence as a sort ofguard dog,” she said, making it clear that was not a compliment, “but you will be an outdoor dog, is that clear?”

“Perfectly.” Never in my life had I wanted to walk out on a job so badly, but I’d given Sully my word. Turning around, I pushed open the front door. “I’ll be outside.”

“Get used to it.”

Jesus. This was country music’s sweetheart?

I went out the door and assessed the outside of the place, noting all the doors and windows. I’d already looked up the address on Google maps and knew there were no close neighbors on any side. Then I looked over the gray minivan parked next to the house. When I’d seen it, I couldn’t believe that was what Pixie Hart was driving. I’d been expecting a cute little convertible or some kind of pricey foreign car. Peering into the back, I wondered if it would be more comfortable to sleep in than my SUV. Had I known there wouldn’t even be a couch to crash on, I’d have at least brought a tent.

For now, I decided to park myself on one of the rocking chairs next to the front door and try not to think about the fact that I’d seen her naked.

Wet and naked.

I shoved the image from my mind and dropped into a chair. As the sun began to sink behind the trees, I stretched out my legs and clasped my hands on my chest, running through my task list for the bar. I’d emailed everything to Veronica earlier, given her all the contact info, let her know when the beer and liquor distributors were coming, when the A/V guys would be there, when the final inspection would happen.

Thankfully, I already had bartenders, servers, and a chef lined up, but I was still going over applications for barbacks and other kitchen staff. It could probably wait until after the soft opening, but maybe I’d ask Veronica to look over the applications just in case there was anyone with awesome experience we didn’t want to lose.

From inside, I heard a hair dryer running for a few minutes. After that, I heard the pop of a cork from a wine bottle, pots and pans clanking in the kitchen, and then music. Pretty soon, the smell of something good began wafting through the screens—something Italian maybe, with tomatoes and garlic and basil. I’d eaten a late lunch but no dinner, and my stomach started to growl. Dammit, why hadn’t I brought a snack?

This whole thing had been so rushed, I hadn’t been able to think straight while I was packing. To distract myself from hunger pangs, I went to my car and grabbed my laptop. Back in my rocking chair, I opened up my computer and realized I needed to ask her if this cabin had Wi-Fi.

Setting my computer aside, I stood up and peered through the screen door. She stood at the stove with her back to me, and the music was so loud, she didn’t hear my knock. Opening the door, I poked my head inside. “Excuse me,” I called.

She turned around and shrieked. “You scared me!”

“Sorry.” Whatever she was making smelled so good, my mouth watered. “I knocked, but you didn’t hear it. I just wondered if this place had Wi-Fi.”

“Oh.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “I think so. Hang on.”

I closed the door and sat down in the rocking chair again, pulling my laptop onto my thighs. A moment later she came out onto the porch. “It’s this,” she said, holding her cell phone so I could see the screen.

I found the network and typed in the password. “Thanks.”

For a moment, she just stood there, watching me. She was barefoot, wearing very short shorts and a black tank top with some writing on the front, which I didn’t read because I did not want to be caughtspyingon her breasts.

(But for the record, they were a good size for someone so small—I’d even say pleasantly plump—and since I’d seen her naked, I knew her nipples were pale pink.)

“Do you need something?” I asked, without looking up from my screen.

“No.” She remained where she stood, fidgeting a little. “Are you emailing my brother to tattle on me?”