Page 5 of My Greatest Joy

I hear a thump, followed by the pads of his feet trotting as he makes his way to the bottom floor. “I’d love to keep having this ridiculous conversation with you, but I need to rinse my eyes.” They feel like they’re melting out of my skull.

I manage to gain my footing while keeping one hand over my junk.

“Maybe I should’ve tased you instead.”

“I’ll deal with you when I get out of the shower,” I growl.

“Fine!” she snaps. “But you touch me, I’ll call 911 immediately.”

Carefully, I take blind steps toward my bathroom. Once I’m at the sink, I spend fifteen minutes splashing cold water on my face to dilute the capsaicin she attacked me with.

Then I immediately get in the shower and wash every part of my body with soap to try to break down the oils from the spray. I stand under the stream, letting it run over my sore muscles, annoyed that I’m dealing with this bullshit.

I’ve lived here all my life and know almost everyone in the area, and she’s definitely not a local.

After I rinse off, I get dressed and notice her shampoo, conditioner, and sea breeze-scented bodywash are on the edge of my tub. She fully helped herself to my house while I was gone. Guess I’m going to have to start locking my door.

Once I’ve composed myself, I walk into my room, where she’s still sitting cross-legged on my bed with her laptop. She quickly grabs her pepper spray when she hears me.

“Donotdo that again.”

“Or what?”

I don’t have time for these games. “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing in my house?” I finally ask. Though more specifically,my bed.

She narrows her beautiful green eyes at me as ifI’mthe intruder. Then stands a good five feet from me.

“I’m Fallon Joy, a journalist for a magazine based in Seattle. I’m writing a center page article about Maplewood Falls and rented this place for two weeks while I’m here.” She grabs her phone, then shows me the itinerary along with photos of the outside of my house. That smirk, paired with her confidence, tells me she believes she’s proved her point.

I meet her gaze. “Well,Fallon Joy…” I repeat her name and chuckle at the irony.

“What’s funny?”

“The fact that your last name isJoy, and you seem anything but joyful.”

Her lips purse into a line so tight, it looks painful.

“Anyway, I’m Levi White, and my family has owned this property well before either of us has been alive. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but?—”

“Why did you put this cabin on a vacation rental site if you weren’t going to vacate?”

“I didn’t. I’ve never rented it out.”

“So this isn’t your cabin you listed?”

“It is, butIdidn’t list it.”

“Is this some kind of scam? You take all my money, then kick me out as soon as I get here?”

Her accusatory tone annoys me even more.

“Look upWhite’s Christmas Tree Farm, and you’ll see I’m not lying. Go ahead. I’ll wait,” I taunt, crossing my arms over my broad chest.

“Well,Levi,” she mimics my tone, spitting out my name like it’s poison. “My assistant booked this reservation, and I’vealready seen the charge on my company card. There must’ve been some sort of miscommunication with the website,” she continues to run her mouth.

“Please tell me you’re not that naïve. You werescammed. Someone put up my cabin on that website, stole your money, and left us to figure it out.”

“That’s not possible.”

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