Page 38 of The Candlemaker

Whatever upper handI’d gained by taunting him disappeared the moment I stepped into the vacant living room. At least, it had been vacant the last time I’d been inside the inn.

While I’d spent the hours between accepting this deal and now by worrying about my family and worrying about being alone with Chandler, he’d clearly spent the afternoon here.

I stared at the massive air mattress inflated in the center of the room, crowned by the stately brick fireplace behind it. It was stacked with blankets and pillows that made me shiver just thinking about how warm it would be underneath them all right now.

Against the wall was a huge case of water bottles, two more battery-operated lanterns, and two flashlights.

My nostrils flared. I’d met him outside thinking I was the one prepared…that this billionaire boor had no idea what he’d signed himself up for when he’d suggested—almost recklessly, itseemed in the moment—to camp out here for a week.It was what he’d wanted me to think.

“Everything okay?” he asked, not bothering to hide the smile on his face.

“Yep.” I popped the word from my mouth, volleying a smile back at him.

“I’m going to the dining room to change. I’ll be right back,” he warned, grabbing a small duffel I only just noticed tucked against the wall.

“Thanks for the warning,” I said low, catching the sounds of a soft chuckle trailing behind him from the room.

It took a second to realize he’d left the lantern for me.How was he going to see?Not my problem. I grabbed the handle and marched toward the other side of the room, firmly staking my gaze to the spot where I was going to put my sleeping bag so it couldn’t wander toward the shuffling shadows in the dining room where Chandler was changing.

I took another sweep of all the comforts and supplies he’d brought. I guess it was too much to hope a man as wealthy as him wouldn’t be able to rough it for a few nights.

My heavy sigh echoed in the empty room. He must’ve opened some windows earlier, too, because the musk wasn’t as thick in here as it was in the hall.

Sliding my bag from my shoulders, I set it down along with the lantern and went to the windows. The glass was so grimy I could barely make out the street lamps through it, but to imagine them clean and sparkling, a candle lit in each one, welcoming weary travelers inside…my chest tightened.This had to work.

I returned to my bag, deciding that putting my sleeping bag on the side of the air mattress closest to the door was my best bet. I would’ve loved to lay it out right inside the entryway, butthat would’ve been far too obvious that I was setting myself up to make a break for it once the midnight hours hit.

Even still, I was going to have to enlist Nox again for whatever I came up with. It was the only way to be able to deny any culpability on my part.

I bent to unzip my backpack, tucking my pillow under my arm because I refused to set it on the ground—or worse, the air mattress. Opening the zipper wasn’t an issue, but pulling out the sleeping bag was a problem; it was packed so tight inside, I couldn’t…

“Come on?—”

“Let me.” The low rumble of his voice surprised me—right before my pillow was unceremoniously tugged out from my arm and freeing both my hands.

God, his chivalry was annoying. Why couldn’t he make it easy to hate him? Or at least easier to not want to kiss him?

“It’s going to get colder overnight. You should put your sleeping bag in front of the fireplace.”

My head jerked up from my bag, putting my eyes directly in line with his waist and the muscle I diagnosed as atrophied.Breaking news: It was not atrophied.Not according to Dr. Gray Sweatpants.

Crap.

I quickly straightened all the way, my eyes snapping to his. Hopefully, he saw the red in my cheeks as a sign of frustration and not anything more.

“There’s no fire in the fireplace,” I said on instinct.Always my first mistake.

“There will be when I’m done helping you.”

Of course, there would.Somehow, I managed to antagonize the only billionaire Boy Scout in existence.

Taking my bag from the floor, I marched to the other side of the air mattress and yanked my sleeping bag from its pack,something small flying out and landing on the floor at Chandler’s feet with a thud. Our hands collided as we reached for it at the same time. Maybe I was the only one who felt the heat because I pulled back while he picked up the bottle.

“Fireball?” He arched an eyebrow.

I laughed and shook my head. “That probably belongs to Nox—my cousin.” I carefully swiped the nip from his fingers. “Fireball is his favorite fireside drink.” And he’d probably shoved it in this bag the last time he’d gone camping with my brothers.

“And here I thought you were going to tell me it was a necessary ingredient to summon the ghosts.”

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