Page 8 of Rocks You Like a Cabernet

“Yeah, I’m from British Columbia. Wildfires are a big issue.”

“I didn’t know that,” I muse.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Princess.” His words end on a click. The front door of the cottage opens. Glancing over his shoulder at me, Henrik raises his eyebrows.

I don’t have a comeback for him. Because he’s right. There is a lot I don’t know about him. If you had asked me yesterday if I gave a crap about that, I’d have said no. I loathed the man, why would I want to know more about him.

Now however, there was a tingling sensation in my belly that made me more aware of him than ever before. Curiosity was going to get the better of me. I couldn’t let it.

“Jesus,” Henrik whistles, “look at this place.”

Stepping through the threshold my head is down, watching my feet so I don’t trip over the small ledge leading into the cottage. At Henrik’s words, my gaze snaps upward. I’m not sure what I’m expecting but this is not it.

Cameron strikes me as a man who likes all modern comforts. High end appliances, crisp cool white walls and thermostats. This is the exact opposite of that.

What was he thinking when he approved this place? From the inside, this place could be considered more a cabin than a cottage. It was kinda small.

The walls are a light rustic green, pulling in the light from the huge window that takes up most of the back wall and making the space look bigger than it is. Sunbeams radiate around the room, hitting every corner and crevice.

The furniture is plush, designed for cozy nights reading or watching the fire dance in the stone fireplace. Blankets and pillows are everywhere–the sofa, the chairs, even on the floor. This is the definition of rustic living.

A laugh escapes me.

Henrik’s head swivels to me, a small smile on his face already. “What’s so funny?”

“I never pictured Cameron as someone who likes the color plaid. There’s…a lot of it in this room.”

Agreeing with me, he walks to the sofa and gives one of the plaid green pillows a plumping punch.

“Yeah, it’s definitely everywhere.” There’s a pause. Turning a full watt grin at me, I stagger back a step, taken aback by the mischievous glee on his face. “Do you think the bedrooms are floor-to-ceiling plaid too?”

For a moment, we stare at each other, letting the words settle around us. Then, like a flash, we both dash towards the small alcove on the left, assuming that’s where the bedrooms are. Like little kids, we laugh and howl at each other as we slip and slide on the hardwood floor.

Henrik slips sideways into the wall, a light thud sounding at his impact. His small grunt has my smile widening as I gain the advantage and slide into the first doorway. Thinking I’ve won, I throw my arms up in the air.

“I–oh crap,” my victorious cry ends on a shocked exhale. I haven’t won at all. This isn’t a bedroom, it’s the stairway to the loft upstairs.

“It’s blue plaid!” I hear Henrik call out. Elation in his voice as I’m sure he’s realized he’s won.

Leaving the tiny stairway, I head towards his voice. It’s easy to find him since there’s only one other doorway down this hallway.

“What color was your room?” Henrik asks. He’s already made himself comfortable on the bed, hands behind his head and feet crossed at the ankles. He looks good, really good lying like that. Comfortable and come hither-y.

His muscles are out and on full display again in this position, even if he is relaxed.

Nope. No, I was not going to think about him like that. I needed to remember that I didn’t really like this man. There was no way I was warming up to him. No way.

“Umm, it was,” I cleared my throat when my words came out horse. “It wasn’t a room. It was a stairwell to the loft, I think.”

That has him sitting up quickly. “A stairwell? Where the hell is the other room then?”

“Probably on the other side of the cabin,” I waved my hand, dismissing his question. Because there has to be another bedroom.

I don’t quickly spin around and march back to the main area as fast as I can because I’m nervous the cabin only has one bedroom. No way. I’m as cool as a cucumber.

My feet take me around every square inch of the space but I don’t find any more rooms but the kitchen. And there is definitely no bed in there. Henrik is right behind me but I pay him no mind as I run to the stairwell and dash up the steps to the loft.

“That son of a bitch,” I hear Henrik laugh.

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