Page 3 of Runaway
He straightened up. “Look, I'd love to help. I really would. Being the nice guy used to be my favorite thing, but I'm kind of over it now. My brother just got married and moved out and I initiated this plan to go full mountain man this winter. The last thing I need here is a renter.”
I blinked.Full mountain man?What did that mean? The words rushed out of me before I could stop them.
“But why?”
He shrugged. “I don't know! Seems like a good idea. We'll see how it pans out. I'm full of ideas, and sometimes the ones that seem the most stupid are actually the greatest in the end. Regardless, I'm not harboring a sketchy fugitive from the law that's lying about someone in town telling her I'd rent a cabin for $500 a month on my property. Sorry. No one in town would have sent you here to rent.”
My heart raced as he reached for his door and began to close it.
“I go by Marie sometimes!”
Two inches before it shut, the door stopped. His fingers tightened around the edges, but I couldn't see his face now. A lump filled my throat and I swallowed it. My voice rang out clear despite my worry. I shivered but wasn't entirely sure it was from the cold.
“If you listen hard, you might recognize my voice. My full name is Stella Marie Lee, but I do business under Marie Lee. Mark, I know you're always annoyed with me because I stifle your ideas and I honestly have no idea why you still pay me to do your books, but I . . . I need some help.”
Slowly, the door opened back up.
2
Mark
Ashiver passed through me before I pulled the door open again.
Marie Lee, the most frustrating, safest-playing accountant on this planet. The woman who probably rolled her eyes every time she saw me call, but spoke such calm sense I couldn't help but listen. Even if she never said what I wanted to hear.
Now she stood on my doorstep.
She clutched her arms under a wet, red parka. Hints of light blonde hair peeked out from behind her ears. Her eyes were wide, uncertain, and a gentle brown. She was younger than I expected. I'd always pictured her in her late fifties. No, if I had been given a lineup, the last person I would have chosen as Marie was this girl.
Plus, it changed everything about her sketchy request. I mentally berated myself for letting her stand on the rainy porch. JJ may have left me, but I didn't have to be a jerk.
“Come inside.” I opened the door wider. “It's freezing out there.”
With a grateful half-smile, she stepped onto a towel I'd thrown on the floor as a rug. Lizbeth and JJ married six weeks ago in an outdoor wedding near his favorite local climbing rock. It had taken all of seven days for this place to devolve back to the chaos it had been before her arrival.
I missed it.
Marie—no, Stella—skirted out of my way as I closed the door behind her. She didn't bring anything inside with her. Then again, she probably didn't know what to expect from me, so why bring her bags? I gestured toward the fire with a tilt of my head.
“Have a seat. I'll warm up some crappy hot chocolate, unless you want coffee this late?”
“Hot chocolate sounds great.”
While her parka rustled as she peeled it off, I grabbed a half-gallon of milk from a tiny refrigerator and reached for the crappy hot chocolate packets that were, frankly, insulting to my taste buds after JJ's real-deal homemade stuff.
I shoved that cranky thought away. Lizbeth and JJ were perfect together. I was happy for them. Jealous, but happy.
The cabin remained quiet while Stella peeled out of a pair of fuzzy white boots and padded over to the fire, shivering. Without her parka, she looked as normal as anyone. Blonde hair with darker streaks in a bob around her jawline. Soft eyes. Wiry body. A runner, maybe. It occurred to me that, as my accountant, she knew almost everything about my business. Enough to find it on a cold fall night. But I knew nothing about her.
Talk about unfair advantages.
The microwave dinged, so I pulled the mug out, grimaced when I realized I'd forgotten to wash the old coffee stains out of it, and grabbed a clean one. I'd take the dirty one.
“So.” I leaned back against the sink while the microwave hummed away, then realized I still didn't have a shirt on. No wonder she wouldn't look away from the fire. As casually as possible, I grabbed a shirt from the back of a chair and pulled it on. “You must be in pretty bad shape if you're coming here.”
Did I imagine that grimace? Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her profile silhouetted against the bright flames. Outside, the rain began to ease.
“Yeah.”
