Page 26 of Deception

“I’m not married.”

“Hmm. Me neither.”

She’s starting to piss me off, the way she’s rapid-firing her questions at me. Like she’s a fucking reporter.

“Didn’t plan on the blizzard, though?” she asks.

“No. You clearly didn’t either. Or any mountain weather. Almost like you came here on a whim. Or in a hurry.”

She looks away smoothly, making it look natural, not like I hit the nail on the head. I really can’t tell. She’s treating this like she’s a fox and I’m the hound. Poking me, nipping at me, then springing away, leaving me chasing. Wanting more.

I hate how much I like it.

“Who else is here with you?” she asks.

“Staff.”

“And?”

“And none of your business.”

“All alone on a vacation? That seems so lonely.”

“Says the woman traveling alone.”

“The man at the pub, was he your brother?” A flash passes through her eyes, like she bested me.

“Yes. Everyone says we look alike, at least in the eyes.” I won’t give her an inch.

“What’s his name?”

“You won’t meet him, so it hardly matters. He keeps to himself.”

The encounter is wearing thin, trying my patience. I’m getting too tired to play this back and forth, as much as I want to find out more. She’s going to make me slip, say too much.

“Then your shipping company name? I’m sure I would have heard of it?”

“Probably.”

“A hint?”

“Not a chance.” My hackles rise and I see her back off, visibly shrinking at my irritation. “Do you always grill your host when you stay somewhere uninvited?”

“Only when they wear disguises to go out in public and slip away to a mountain hideaway.”

“You sit so close to the fire, you’ll get burned.”

“I’ve always had a tolerance for heat,” she snipes back. I can tell she sees me as a threat. Which means there’s a chance she knows exactly who I am.

Or am I just drunk and imagining things?

She's a woman alone at night in a strange place at some guy's house she had no choice but to stay at or die in the cold. I’d be cautious too.

I could be a psychopath killer for all she knows.

Little does she know…

It makes sense she would want to feel me out. I’d certainly like to feel her writhing underneath me.

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