Page 34 of Roughing It

And okay, this is how those breaking news stories always go.“…and while she thought she was safe and the man was charming, a dark secret was lurking behind his soft eyes.”

I mentally smack myself. I should say no. I need to say no. Instead, I pull my phone out of my pocket and see one pathetic little bar wavering in and out. Flor can probably use it to find me and avenge my death if he really is a psychopath.

“If it helps, I have a kitten,” he adds.

I make a ridiculous squeaking noise, but I can’t help it. I never get to see baby animals where I live. “Really?”

He laughs, but he doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of me. His eyes are bright, and I can see his eye teeth are a little crooked when he smiles. “I found her in the barn, and she’s so needy right now. She’d love an extra set of hands to give her cuddles.”

I’m sold. If I get murdered, at least there’s a good reason for it: kittens. Maddox leads the way back out of the stables after making sure the horses have food and water. There’s another crack of thunder, and as I look up, I can see another massive black cloud heading our way.

Maddox steps up close to me and leans in. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better. The report this morning said this is just the start.”

I open my mouth to reply, but there’s a bright flash with an almost instant boom, and my hair is kind of standing on end in spite of it being wet. I leap toward him, and he takes my hand without a second of hesitation.

There’s a stillness in the air, and then without warning, the sky opens up. I shriek, and he laughs, then pulls me along to the little cottages I’d seen earlier. There’s a set of stairs that lead up to a balcony, and by the time I’m standing on his doorstep, I’m drenched.

Not even the raincoat could save me from that deluge.

He opens the door quickly, and it’s so warm it almost makes me dizzy as I step inside. I don’t even really look around at first, more concerned that I’m dripping a small lake onto his floors.

“Let me get you a towel and some sweats,” he says. Before I can protest—not that I really want to—he’s darting down a little hallway.

I start to shiver uncontrollably as I stand there, and I wrap my arms around my body, though it doesn’t help. I attempt to distract myself by having a look around, and the place is very… him. It’s spartan in the décor—a few paintings on the walls, a couple of bookshelves that are mostly empty save for a few photo frames and a handful of succulents. Along the far wall, he has a comfy-looking sofa that’s nestled under the tall window but no other places to sit. There’s also a TV, but the fine layer of dust on the screen tells me he doesn’t use it very much.

It’s a bachelor’s apartment. I doubt he spends a lot of time in it, considering what it takes to run a lodge, and my heart aches for him a bit—just like it aches for myself. Our lives are entirely different, but clearly, they intersect in spaces like this—the tender, lonely spots that hurt when people poke at them.

Maddox appears a few minutes later with a dry shirt and jeans on. His boots are missing, but he’s got thick socks on, and he’s holding a huge, fluffy towel and a bundle of clothes. “You need to get out of all that wet stuff,” he orders. He takes my arm and propels me across the floor, ignoring my protests of spreading the water on his area rug. “The bathroom’s right down the hall. There’s no light, but there’s a window, so you won’t have to fumble around in the dark to change.”

I immediately admit defeat because I really want out of all this crap. The hallway is really too dark for me to see, but the bathroom is directly in front of me, and he was right. It’s dim but not impossible. The window’s one of those frosted glass ones, so no one can peek in, but it allows just enough light for me to be able to strip down, dry off, and slip into the sweats without braining myself on something.

As I pull the shit over my head, I get a whiff of something so distinctly Maddox, it makes me go hot all over. I fight the urge to bury my face in the fabric and smell it like some lovesick middle schooler. Instead, I busy myself with pretending I’m a functional adult, and I wring out my clothes before hanging them over the side of the tub. I throw the boots in for good measure, then use the towel to mop up the floor before putting on the socks he gave me.

Everything is ridiculously huge on me, but it’s soft and warm, and I feel like I can breathe again now that I’m no longer shivering. I wring my hair out over the sink, then twist it into a braid so I won’t have the urge to shave my head when it comes time to comb out my curls, and finally, I’m done.

Now, I just have to go out there and face that man—while I’m wearing hispajamas—and try to act like this is totally normal.

Ugh.

I take an extra couple of seconds to compose myself, then make my way into the living room. Maddox is nowhere to be found, but I can see some drying streaks of water on the floor where he mopped up what we left behind. I stand there a little unsure for a second, and then I hear quiet swearing from a little alcove.

I realize it’s the kitchen, and I peer around the corner to find him fighting with a can opener. I watch just long enough to feel sorry for him, and then I step closer. “Can I help?”

He gives me a sheepish look and shrugs. “Sometimes…” The rest of his sentence dies out, and I swear he almost looks afraid. He licks his lips, then rubs the back of his neck. “Sometimes, I… don’t know how to work this thing.”

I frown, but I don’t ask. Instead, I take the can and glance at the label and almost laugh when I see it’s cat food. “Don’t these things usually have pop tabs?”

He rolls his eyes. “This was all they had at the general store—and normally I just use my electric one—but I’m not going to start the generator just for Nudge.”

“Nudge?” I repeat.

As if summoned, there’s a bump against my calf, and as I’m halfway to getting the can open, a furry, light-patterned calico with wild tufts of hair takes a flying leap. Maddox manages to catch the thing before she slams into the oven door, and he pulls her up to his chin to give her a cuddle.

They’re cute. Too cute, in fact. I don’t need this.

I quickly busy myself with getting the food open, then set it on the counter. “Crisis averted.”

Maddox lets out a small laugh, but he looks more uncomfortable than anything. He’s got Nudge tucked under his chin, and instead of meeting my gaze, he rubs his nose against the kitten’s soft fur.

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