Page 7 of Lucky in Love
“The only thing I have open is one that’s waiting on some repair work. But if you’re okay with a weak roof and a bad paint job, I can put you in cabin twelve.”
“Sounds fine.”
“You.” Alex pointed at Hugh. “The rec cabin is up that path. It’s the bathroom on the right with issues. Get started, and I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hugh saluted, grabbed his toolbox, and headed toward the trail.
“And you,” Alex said, voice softening. “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. Come with me, and we’ll get you signed in.”
He paused as if rethinking his decision. But after a second, he held out a hand, indicating she lead the way.
In the tiny office, she jiggled the mouse, and the computer came to life. “Is it just you? And how long do you want to stay?”
“Just me, and a week or so.” Pale green eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, she got lost in them.
She blinked hard and refocused. “Uh, name?”
“Kevin McHale.”
“Hah, like the Boston Celtics Hall of Famer?”
He did a double take, obviously surprised—maybe a little impressed?—that she knew that. She shrugged. “I’m a big Celtics fan.”
“Hmm.”
“Okay. Cabin twelve.” She pulled up the input form. “I’ll even give you a discount since the place has some issues. How’s twenty bucks a night off sound?”
“Sounds great. Do you take cash?”
Her eyebrows perked up, and he addressed the unspoken question.
“My wallet was stolen at the airport. All my cards were in it. I don’t have any ID either.”
“How’d you get cash with no debit or credit card?” she asked.
“Hid it in my suitcase.”
“They let you rent a car with no ID?” His story was fishy, and red flags were climbing the mast.
“I’d pre-booked and prepaid. Picked it up without even talking to an agent.”
“How you gonna get home?” she challenged.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to make some calls.” He met her gaze and didn’t blink.
She stared at him a second longer. He had all the right answers, but something still felt off. In the end, renting the cabin won out over her doubts. She had to make up for the cancellations somehow.
“Fine. Here’s the key. Cabin twelve. Follow the signs from the parking lot.”
“Thanks.” He took the key and jutted his chin at the poster tacked to the wall behind her. “What’s all that about?”
It was a list of the campground rules, starting with the no-devices commitment. If he could read, it was obvious what it was. She bit back a sarcastic remark.
“We have a no-internet policy,” she said. “This is a Wi-Fi-free camp, and cell coverage comes and goes with the wind.” She withheld the fact that his cabin had some of the best reception on the campground. “Is that gonna be a problem?”
“Are you always so snooty?”
Ah. He was right. This was no way to treat a guest. She looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and counted to three.
