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“I’ll call you.” He smiled again. “Bye, Marigold.”
“Bye, Preston.”
He slipped on his coat and left, disappearing into the storm.
I watched him go, dumbstruck. Had the dashing gentleman of my dreams just walked into my salon and asked me out?
It seemed like maybe he had.
The Cabin
BRIELLE
The cabin was nice. Luxurious, even. Leather couches, a big fireplace, a loft bedroom with the most comfortable bed Brielle had ever slept on.
By the time they’d gotten to the bus stop in Pinecrest, the last bus had already left. She was stuck without a place to stay in the middle of a storm.
But the guy who’d picked her up—he’d told her his name was John—had come back. He’d actually circled the block a few times while she tried to buy a ticket. When he saw her standing, despondent, on the side of the road, he’d offered her a place to crash.
The storm had been getting worse and she’d been desperate. She’d figured it was either go home, die of exposure somewhere, or take her chances with John and possibly become a murder victim.
Home was a hard no. Whether she froze in the storm or was murdered, she was dead either way, so why not try for a warm place to sleep?
He’d told her the cabin was a bit of a drive, but at that point, she’d been committed. And so far, nothing bad had happened. No threats, no tying her up, nothing. He hadn’t even hit on her. Just explained that he owned a cabin no one was using and she was welcome to stay there until she figured things out.
When he’d left her there, alone, she’d wondered if he was either going to come back and kill her in the morning, or if he somehow knew who she was and her parents were going to show up.
Once again, he surprised her. No parents. And he obviously hadn’t murdered her. He just brought her some groceries, showed her how to use the old DVD player, and talked her into staying longer, just to be safe.
After all, there was another storm outside. Vegas could wait.
Brielle wasn’t stupid. She knew people weren’t nice for no reason. John had a motive. She just hadn’t figured out what it was yet.
For now, she was warm and dry. She’d left her phone at the apartment, and felt sort of naked without it, but someone could have used it to track her. And if John really wanted to hurt her, he would have. He’d had plenty of opportunity. It wasn’t that she trusted him—she didn’t really trust anyone—but she’d take advantage of his hospitality for as long as possible, then have him take her back to Pinecrest to catch a bus to Vegas.
She held a bag of chips in one hand and absently ate while she watched the rain come down through the back window. All she could see were pine trees and clouds. In the summer, it was probably pretty.
A little fantasy came to mind—a simple daydream. John keeping her there, not because he was a rapist or a murderer, but because he liked her. She could be his princess in a tower, hiding away in the woods while he kept her safe. He’d let her live there and take care of her, keeping her tucked away like a treasure.
She knew it was a stupid daydream. But it was nice to imagine anyway.
A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts and she turned to find John coming in.
“Hey.” He shut the door behind him and smiled at her. “I figured I’d check on you. See if you need anything.”
She gave him a quick once over as he took his coat off and hung it on a hook by the door. He was wearing a sweater and slacks and although he could have been concealing a weapon, she didn’t notice anything obvious. And he hadn’t brought a duffel bag full of plastic sheeting and a butcher knife or anything.
“I’m fine. I don’t think there’s anything I need.”
He took a step and instinctively, she stepped back. He paused but didn’t give any other indication that he’d noticed. “Good. Just making sure. Are you bored? I know there’s not a lot to do.”
“No, I slept in and then I started watching your collection of The Office.”
“Good show.”
“Yeah, it’s funny.” She put her bag of chips down and sucked the salt off her fingers. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“You’re not used to that, are you?”
