Page 10 of Lucky in Love
From the water, he’d seen the petite brunette cabin manager—Alex—run through the parking area, and wondered if the exercise had improved her mood. He’d already counted her initial greeting as strike one toward his review.
On the positive side, it was a beautiful setting, definitely more serene than Peaceful Dove. His cabin had a few issues, but that was his fault for booking late.
He opened the door and startled at the unexpected sight of Alex, standing smack in the middle of the living room.
“Ahh!” she screamed.
“Why are you yelling? And why are you in my cabin?” he asked calmly when she stopped. “Is there a problem?”
“I run. A lot. I can totally outrun you.” Her eyes darted to the exit.
“Not if I was dead-set on catching you,” he said dryly, closing the door but staying near it.
“I also take karate. I could incapacitate you.”
“Well, that’s just objectively false, but it’s cute you think otherwise.” He folded his arms. “What’s this all about? You’re the one invading my privacy. Why are you threatening me?”
“Fine. Please don’t kill me,” she begged, backing away from him and into the kitchen.
“What? I have no intention of hurting you,” he said, holding up both hands. “Why would you think that?”
She glanced around frantically, finally grabbing a spatula from a canister of cooking utensils, and circling the kitchen island. Was she genuinely scared? Or genuinely crazy?
“Stay back. I’ve called the police.”
“To report your own breaking and entering?” He huffed out a sigh of frustration, his patience wearing thin.
Someone pounded on the door, and she screamed again. Still standing next to the door, he rolled his eyes and opened it. Sure enough, a deputy. Not what Brody expected for podunk law enforcement. This guy was tall, broad, and looked like he could handle himself in any situation.
“Thank goodness,” Brody and Alex said in unison.
“Sheriff Walker,” the man said, introducing himself. “What’s goin’ on here?”
“That tiny crazy person broke into my cabin and is threatening me with a spatula.” Brody pointed to Alex. Which wasn’t necessary. There was only one pint-sized lunatic in the room.
“Alex,” the sheriff said. Of course they knew each other. Small towns were notoriously incestuous. “Why don’t you head on out and let me take care of this?”
Alex skirted around the lawman, glaring at Brody the whole time. “I’ll be right outside if you need me. Be careful, Nick.”
Once she was out of the room, it finally clicked. “She thinks I’m that fugitive, huh?”
The sheriff had one hand on his gun, but Brody got the impression that’s just where he habitually rested it. The rest of his body was relaxed and nonthreatening.
“She did have some pretty good evidence that you might be. No reservation. Paying cash. No ID.”
“Ah, yes,” Brody said. “That would raise suspicion. Especially under the circumstances.”
“She also said you lied about your wallet being stolen.” He raised an eyebrow.
“You mean after she broke in and snooped around?”
“Technically, it’s her place, but yes. If you’re not the felon, who are you?”
“How do you know I’mnotthe felon?”
Sheriff Walker shrugged. “Just do.”
“Fine.” Brody walked to the island, retrieved his wallet, and handed it to the sheriff. “My name is Brody Collins. I’m a travel writer. I check in under a false name so people don’t know I’m critiquing their property.”
