Page 22 of The Confidentiality Clause
My face heats, but I keep my expression neutral. I know he’s just trying to get under my skin, butit’s working. Somehow, I hadn’t considered the wholesharingpart of the cabin equation. We’ll be sharing a bedroom wall, a kitchen, living space and…a jacuzzi.
I swallow, my throat feeling dry.
“You good over there, Duke?” There’s laughter in Brock’s voice. “You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I squeak out, then cough to clear my throat. “It’s just warm.” I blast the A/C as cold as it will go. I’ll freeze before admitting that Brock got to me.
He chuckles. I turn up the radio to drown out the noise.
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter eleven
Brock Jones
I inhale the mountain air, a smile tugging at my lips.
“This is much better than a sunrise run,” I say as I tilt my head up toward the sun filtering through the pines.
“So you won’t be joining me for my run tomorrow?” Her voice is lined with amusement.
“Do you go every day?” I ask instead of answering. My instinct is to say no, but as much as I love to tease her–and I love it a lot–the run was a good way to start my day.
“Pretty much.” I glance over to see her tugging a duffel bag out of her trunk. She slings it over her shoulder with a huff.
“Want some help?”
“I’m good.”
She walks to the door, leaning to one side to support the heavy weight. I chuckle at her stubbornness. She’s dressed in more casual clothes for the drive. A baggy Duke sweatshirt and a pairof black biker shorts that show off her toned legs. Yeah, she looks like she runs every day.
I force my gaze to scan the cabin instead of her. The last thing I need is to be caught checking her out. Then she might think my comments in the car were something more than jokes to mess with her.
A stone path leads to a black A-frame cabin with gleaming windows. There are flower beds out front with yellow and pink blossoms peppering the shrubs. It’s picturesque and cozy. The kind of place people honeymoon at.Nope. Don’t need to go there. I reroute that train of thought.
Ariel types in a code above the door handle, then turns the knob. She takes two whole steps inside before dropping her duffel bag. Without any kind of welcome or preamble, she heads for the back deck that I can spy through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I grab the bag she left in my path–which must be filled with bricks becausewowis it heavy–and walk deeper inside the cabin.
The inside is just as cozy as the outside suggested. There’s a brown couch with plaid and tan pillows. A coffee table with books and travel guides artfully arranged on top. There’s a large, round chair with an ottoman in front and the softest-looking blanket I’ve ever seen. I run my hand over it as I pass, confirming it’s as buttery as it looks. To my right is a small kitchen with an island that has two stools pushed up against it.
The scent of pine drifts in from the open back door. Ariel leans against the railing, her long brown hair in a messy braid down her back. I set her bag down behind the couch, then walk outside and join her.
“I love this view,” she says.
I brace my forearms on the wood rail. “I could tell by the way you sprinted out here.”
She laughs under her breath. “I do this every time I visit. There’s something about the mountains that calms my soul. I look out and see howbigeverything is. It reminds me of how small I am, and makes my problems feel just as small.”
I wish I could relate to that. Instead, the vast peaks and valleys seem too large. As if they’re towering over me like the skyscrapers back home. I look at Ariel instead, grounding myself in the familiarity of her.
“Is that why you brought me here?” I ask.
Her indigo eyes meet mine. They sparkle in the late afternoon rays like twin pools of glittering water. “I might be hoping the mountains have the same effect on you.”
“And if they don’t?”
She shrugs, turning her attention back to the mountain range. “We’ll figure something out.”
“I still don’t think there’s anything wrong with me.”
