Page 21

TWENTY

Tate

When we finally reach the cabin, I’m thankful for my phone’s flashlight or I might have hiked right past the place.

The cabin is nestled among a thick cluster of pine trees, right off a small winding trail about a quarter of a mile from the main lodge.

The wooden structure, with its slightly crooked porch and weathered cedar shingles, looks charmingly quaint in the dark.

“Home sweet home,” I say, flicking on the light switch and glancing around at the simple interior.

I’d dropped my stuff off before heading over to the lodge earlier, but I never got a good look at it.

A worn plaid sofa sits at the center facing a rustic stone fireplace with a stack of wood next to it.

Above the fireplace is a faded framed sign proudly proclaiming: Welcome to Paradise.

Either the owners had a wicked sense of humor or a shockingly low bar for paradise.

A sink and small stove sit in the corner next to a few cabinets and a table for two.

The world’s tiniest bathroom is on the other side of the room.

I already took over the table with my laptop, so I toss Lauren’s suitcase next to the worn couch before putting Annie in her crate for the night.

Then I tuck my laptop away. I can always make editing notes on my iPad, and Lauren will never know what I’m working on .

“You can take the couch,” I say. “It turns into a bed. If you need help, let me know. I’ll just grab my sleeping bag.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor?” Lauren asks.

“You see any other place to sleep?”

“But it’s a wood floor,” she says.

I shrug. “It’s no big deal. I’m tougher than I look.”

Lauren looks at me skeptically. “That’s what they all say before waking up like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” I say, kicking a stray log that’s rolled away from the fireplace. “I’ve survived Leo’s snoring. I can handle hardwood floors.”

I take out my sleeping bag and toss it onto the floor behind the couch, trying to sort out the dividing lines in the space. The couch is only a few feet from the wall, basically giving me no space.

She tosses the couch cushions to the floor in silence and tries to pull out the metal mattress frame, but it won’t budge.

“Here, let me,” I offer, circling the couch. I give it a tug. It groans as the metal frame barely inches open.

This bed is making me look bad. I put my back into it, because there’s no way this ancient contraption is going to beat me. Without warning, the rusted hinges finally release and the bed gives way, throwing me back against the fireplace.

We now have even less floor space than before. Lauren grabs a sheet and throws it over the bed. “You know, we could take turns with the bed.”

“Lauren, I’m fine,” I say with a sigh.

“To quote what you said earlier—that’s what you say when you’re not fine.”

“Yeah, well, I’m too stubborn to admit otherwise,” I say.

I glance over her yellow blouse and jeans.

Not only will we have to sleep in this tiny room together, but also figure out how to do simple tasks like change clothes.

When I rented this place, I just wanted to get away to work on my book.

I never dreamed anyone else would be here rooming with me.

When they said the cabin slept two, they meant on this metal torture device posing as a bed.

“You, uh, probably want to change?” I ask.

She opens her suitcase and starts rifling through her luggage. “I’ll change in the bathroom,” she says, “unless you’re really trying to taint this wholesome professional relationship.”

She pulls out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of flimsy white cotton shorts that are as thin as a tissue. Smoke would cover more than those shorts will.

“Right.” I spin around abruptly, nearly knocking a lamp off the tiny side table. “I’ll just face this way and…pretend to be fascinated by the wood paneling.”

Lauren heads to the bathroom. “You do that, Sheriff.”

I hear the door shut. Even though there’s a door between us, it feels like I’m trying to give her some privacy by at least not standing right next to the door.

“Let me know when you’re done,” I say loudly, still studying the wall.

“I don’t think you’ve appreciated that woodwork enough yet,” she teases from inside. “Give it another minute.”

I exhale. “Sure. Take your time. I’m becoming a real expert on log-cabin craftsmanship. By the end of the week, I’ll probably know how to build my own cabin.”

“Maybe you can build a nicer cabin than this sorry excuse for one.”

“Actually, this one is structurally pretty sound. It just hasn’t been updated in a century.”

A gray blur of movement catches my eye in the corner. When I look down, a mouse shoots across the floor at the same moment Lauren cracks the bathroom door.

“Hey, Tate, I dropped my shorts on the floor. Could you throw them…” Her words cut off abruptly, and I turn just in time to hear her gasp. “TATE! Is that a—?” The rest dissolves into a high-pitched yelp that could shatter glass as she spots the tiny gray blur darting across the fl oorboards.

I look at her, only realizing too late that Lauren is standing in the bathroom door in her t-shirt and only a t-shirt, which is barely long enough to cover her underwear. And mentally I’m torn between forcing her to put on shorts or finding the mouse so she’ll stop freaking out.

The mouse decides for me by heading Lauren’s way.

In her panic, she leaps onto the squeaky bed, spinning around, searching for the mouse, which has disappeared underneath it.

“Where is it?” she says, whirling around. “You have to crawl under this bed. Get him out of here. Now. ”

It takes a second for my brain to catch up—Lauren, on the sofa bed, half-dressed, her cheeks flushed with panic, and me in this very awkward, very inappropriate position we’re now in.

“But you don’t even have pants on!” I say, motioning to her legs.

She glares at me. “You’re worried about pants when there’s a rodent in the house?” she asks, hardly caring that she’s wearing a Crushers t-shirt and very little else.

“I feel like you should be more concerned about the fact that I can almost see what color underwear you’re wearing. This is really not a good way to kick off our first night together.”

“Tate, forget your modesty!” she yells. “Just kill the mouse.”

“What am I supposed to kill it with?” I ask, dropping to my knees to search under the bed for the mouse.

She leaps off the mattress in a single bound, darting to the kitchen area. “Hold on, I’ve got this!” I hear cabinet doors banging open and closed as I lower myself further, peering into the darkness beneath the bed. No sign of the mouse.

Just as I start to push myself up, something metallic whizzes past my ear, missing my head by inches, before hitting the wall with a dull thud.

A small skillet clatters to the floor. I turn to find Lauren standing there, her arm still extended from the throw, eyes wide with horror .

“What are you trying to do, kill me?” I demand, my heart hammering from the near miss.

“I was aiming for the mouse!” she says, looking genuinely mortified. “You weren’t supposed to move!”

I pluck the nonstick skillet from the floor and hold it in the air. “So, you want me to smash the mouse with the same pan we could use to make breakfast?”

“I’ll take my chances,” she shoots back.

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Lauren,” I warn. “It probably ran away. It’s more scared of you—and your screaming—than you are of it.”

“That’s debatable,” she snaps nervously. “And I don’t do rodents.”

“You know, I’m the one sleeping on the floor, and I’m not scared,” I say.

“You’re not the one sleeping on the sofa bed where we last saw it run for cover,” she says.

I sigh and turn away from her. I gather up her blanket that got knocked on the floor and hold it out for her. “Here, take this first. Wrap it around yourself.”

She glances down at her bare legs and frowns. “It’s not like you’re thinking about me that way when there’s a mouse in here.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what a man can think about in a crisis.”

She rolls her eyes, then wraps the blanket around herself before I get on my knees and check under the bed with a flashlight one more time. “No mouse here. I think he’s gone.” I rise from the floor and turn off my flashlight.

“You think ?” she shrieks. “Is that supposed to help me sleep tonight? Because I might never sleep again. You know, I wouldn’t have to worry about this if you’d just rented a decent cabin like a normal individual.”

“You really think it’s a good time to tick off the man who gave up his bed and is currently saving you from a mouse?” I huff out a breath. “You know what? I’m going to sleep. I’ve done all I can. Have a good night, Sunny.”

I turn around, headed for my sleeping bag.

“Tate!” Lauren leaps toward me and grabs my arm, trying to stop me from leaving her with the mouse. Because she’s wearing fluffy yellow socks, she’s basically skating across the hardwood as I drag her with me.

“Don’t!” she begs. “Don’t you dare fall asleep and leave me alone with that mouse.”

“I don’t know,” I say lazily. “It almost seems like you want to sleep anywhere else. And I’m not stopping you.”

“I don’t,” she pleads. “Just tell me what I can say to convince you.”

I turn around to her. “I want to hear you say you want to be here.”

She presses her lips together, pausing. “Well, I don’t want to be out there.” She nods toward the window.

“No, Lauren, here. With me and a mouse and probably spiders in the bathtub.”

“Oh, my word, Tate, there are spiders in the bathtub?!”

I sigh. “Pick your poison, Sunny. Here or the lodge. And you’d make my life a heck of a lot easier if you chose the lodge.”

She pauses, something warring in her expression before she finally opens her mouth and says quietly, “I want to sleep here, Tate.”

I step closer, angling my mouth near her ear and whispering, “You didn’t ask nicely yet.”

“ Please can I throw another skillet at your head?” she asks sweetly.

I laugh. “You have terrible aim, anyway.”

She gives me a playful shove, and I’m knocked off-balance before I catch myself. “Now, get in bed before you decide to burn the place down.”

She slowly makes her way over to the sofa bed, while I strip off my shirt, leaving only my shorts on. She’s right—the floor is hard as a rock, and I’m going to feel like I slept on a bed of nails in the morning.

“Tate?” Lauren gapes at my bare chest before she blinks, looks at the wall, and shifts uncomfortably.

“Yeah, what?” I say, fully enjoying the fact that she’s embarrassed now.

She hesitates, then says, “You know, this bed is plenty big. And I only need half of it. And a good sleep will be important for the first competition tomorrow.”

I stare at her. “It’s only a balloon toss.”

“I know, but it’s still important!” She fiddles with her ring, spinning it nervously around her finger.

I frown. “Lauren, are you okay?”

“Perfect. Never been better, Tate.” Then she curls her hands into fists and gives me a tight smile.

“Liar.” I stretch out across my sleeping bag.

“Well, I might want you close by. Just in case the mouse shows up again.”

“Is this what it’s going to take to get you to fall asleep?” I ask, slowly rising, before I drag my sleeping bag across the floor with me.

“Don’t make this weird,” she murmurs, shaking her head.

I give a low laugh. “It’s already weird.”

“Then what are we going to do about it?” she asks as I reach the bed. We’re inches apart, her looking up at me as she sits on the edge, like she’s as scared of me as she is of that tiny mouse.

“Stop trying to act like you’re okay when you’re not. I hate it when girls do that. It’s confusing.”

She stands. “But I’m not acting.”

“Lauren, I know you’re upset. You have your tells.”

“I do not.”

I point at her fingers. “Spinning that ring, for one.”

“How did you know?”

“Because I’m observant, Sunny. And what I said before—you’re easy to read. ”

She steps back, and her legs bump the bed, throwing her body off-balance. I grab her arm to steady her and my heart punches against my rib cage at the immediate rush I get.

I’m suddenly aware that her t-shirt is brushing against me. “Lauren, I’m not going to share a bed with you unless you ask…and only if we have boundaries.”

“Okay, fine.” She tucks her hair over one ear. “Could you sleep on the sofa bed?”

“This is about survival,” I say firmly. “Nothing else.”

“I can share a bed without it meaning anything,” she says cooly. “I wouldn’t consider it otherwise. Boundaries, right?”

I point at the bed. “You stay on your half. Keep your legs on your own side. No touching me. And for the love, put on something other than those tissue paper shorts.”

“Are you done, Sheriff?” she says. “Or do I need to sign a waiver too?” She grabs a pair of joggers from her luggage. “Turn around so the sight of my underwear doesn’t scorch your eyeballs.”

I turn around as the mattress frame squeaks. A few seconds later, she’s settled under her blanket before I turn off the lamp.

Even with my body encased inside this sleeping bag, I don’t feel ready to sleep. Knowing she’s this close is enough to make every nerve in my body feel like an exposed wire.

“Oh, and, Tate?” she says, rolling toward me. “Just so you know, I snore too. Have a good sleep!”

“Now you’re telling me, Sunny?” I roll away from her with a groan, shoving the pillow over my head. This is going to be the longest night of my life.