Page 35 of Lucky Shot
It finally hits me that he’s attempting to swoop in and rescue me. No, no. He doesn’t get to be the good guy now. Not when he’s the reason I’m here in the first place.
“No, thank you. I’d rather stay here.”
“Really?” He huffs, the sound a gruff low timbre that sends goosebumps up my arms.
“Yes, really. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because…” I throw my hands up in the air. There are so many reasons.
He waits, like he’s expecting a detailed and thought-out list to accompany my outburst.
“You don’t want me around. You made that very clear. And in a few hours, I’ll head out and find somewhere else.”
“A few hours?”
“Yeah, it has to be what two or three in the morning?”
“It’s ten thirty.”
Well, crap.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m good here.”
No sooner than the words leave my mouth, a high-pitched scream pierces through the night. All pretenses of bravery leave my body as I leap into Nick’s arms. He catches me with one arm as I hide my face in his hard chest. He smells like fabric softener and that same woodsy scent I noticed earlier at the rink. Some sort of cologne maybe. My brain processes all this at the same time I realize I’ve just thrown myself at him.
“Sorry.” I slide down him until my feet hit the ground and very ungracefully compose myself. I clear my throat.
“Ready to go now?” he asks, a smug, satisfied smile curls his lips.
He pulls his truck into the driveway out front of his house and then walks over to the cabin as I’m getting my suitcase out.
“It’s unlocked and I left the key on the kitchen counter,” he says like my coming back here was a foregone conclusion.
Damn him. And damn the tourists who planned ahead and left no vacancy in town.
“Thank you,” I say, but it doesn’t come out sounding very grateful, so I try again. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll be out first thing in the morning.”
His jaw works back and forth. “You can stay at the cabin this summer as planned.”
Well, that’s surprising.
“I’m coaching at the camp all week, so I don’t have a lot of time, but if you have any more questions, I’ll try to answer them.”
“Who are you and what have you done with the grumpy man I met yesterday who couldn’t wait to get rid of me?”
“Look, it wasn’t personal.”
“It felt personal.”
“I’m sorry for that. I was frustrated with my dad and I took it out on you.”
This has officially been the strangest day of my life.
