Page 79 of Hideaway Heart

Grinning, I wrapped my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck. “Good luck findingthatwife. I don’t think she exists.”

“I’ll find her,” he said, lowering his mouth to mine. “I’m very resourceful.”

* * *

I fell asleep that night happier than I’d been in a long time.

The next morning, I finally decided to look at my phone—mostly because I wanted to check the weather. Xander had promised me a day out on his boat if it was nice. I hadn’t looked at my texts or peeked at my inbox or listened to voicemails or even glanced at social media in forty-eight hours, and given how good I was feeling, maybe I’d stay off the grid for the rest of my vacation.

When I tried to get out of bed, Xander’s arm encircled my waist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he mumbled.

I laughed, trying to pry his wrist from my hip, but he held me fast. “Let me up. I’m just going to grab my phone.”

“You don’t need that thing.”

“You could be right. I haven’t looked at it in two days, and I feel great.”

“I’m always right.” But he loosened his grip on me and I slid out of bed, went over to my suitcase, and dug my phone out. Powering it on, I slipped back into bed next to Xander, who was lying on his stomach, his head beneath the pillow.

“Ugh, I have forty-two texts,” I said.

A muffled grunt was his response.

Ignoring the messages, I opened the weather app. “It’s going to be a gorgeous day,” I said happily. “Sunny and eighty-four degrees. That means you’re taking me out on the boat.”

He pushed the pillow off his face. “Remember how fun our rainy day was?”

“Yes, I do. But we can—oh no.”

“What?” He picked up his head.

“Oh, God.”

“Kelly, what is it?”

“Photos.”

“Of what?” He sat all the way up and looked at the screen.

“Of us. Here at the cabin.”

EIGHTEEN

xander

“Motherfucker.”I reached over and scrolled through photos of us leaving the cabin last night hand in hand and dancing at The Broken Spoke. They’d been posted on a different tabloid site this time, one called Hot Shots that seemed to specialize in romantic speculation. The caption read,Who’s the local hottie that caught Pixie Hart’s eye? Vacation fling or something more?“Motherfucker.”

From the angle and shitty quality of the photos, it looked like the guy had been shooting from the woods at a considerable distance.

But still. Someone had been here. Someone had been watching us, maybe all day. And I’d fucking missed it.

I jumped out of bed, glad to see we’d at least pulled the window shades down in here, but the living room had no window coverings—and we’d been out there last night. “Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving? Where would we go? Xander, come on. It’s notthatbig of a deal.”

“It is to me.” I hunted around for my jeans and yanked them on.

“You’re not even identified.”