“I wouldn’t put it that way. And no, I didn’t get a bad vibe.”
Mom and Dad’s hushed murmurs fade into the background of my mind while I study the picture. There’s a slightly younger version of Ledger, judging by his more trimmed beard and shorter hair. He’s leaning against a fence post and wearing a dust-covered tan canvas jacket. His work gloves are bunched into one hand, the other in his pocket. There’s a boy next to him that is eerily similar in his features. Maybe late teens?Prominent jaw, tall but more slender, and dark eyes. One of his arms is reaching around Ledger’s shoulder in a side hug. The other holds a rope.
Looking closer, I notice the girl running toward them in the background. I smile at her brunette braids and freckled cheeks. She’s young, but tall herself. About twelve or thirteen years old, I assume.
I can barely make out the scattered black spots in the distance of the photo, but I think they’re cows. A low ridge of white-capped mountains line the horizon behind them.
“Izzy? I said how long do you think you’re going to be stuck there?” Dad’s voice rings through my ear.
“It might be a few—” I’m cut off by the sound of a knock on Ledger’s bedroom door. My spine straightens instantly, and I shuffle quickly toward the bathroom, gathering my clean clothes and toiletry bag off the bed on my way. “Guys, I have to go. I’ll keep you updated,” I whisper.
My thumb presses the red button to end the call just as Ledger opens the door and steps inside, his bulky frame filling the doorway. There’s a static charge through the entire room—a new energy that’s impossible to escape. I suck in a breath and clutch my things to my chest.
“I, uh, borrowed the phone to let my parents know what happened so they don’t file a missing person’s report or something.” A pathetic giggle escapes my throat, and I clear it away just as soon as the sound comes out.
He nods and extends his hand toward me. “I brought you a clean towel.”
“Right, thank you,” I say as I take it from him. “I was just going to use yours.” There’s no stopping my second embarrassing giggle.
He cocks a brow and takes a slow step back. “If you need help or, I mean, if you need something, I’ll be in here.” He juts histhumb over his shoulder toward the door, and then leaves before I can reply.
The mirror is still a little foggy as I place my clothes on the counter in the bathroom. I wipe it with my bare hand and then unzip my small cosmetic bag, going straight for my toothbrush and toothpaste. In the time it takes to brush my teeth, I can’t help but look around and be nosey again.
Nothing in here seems to be anything but practical—a worn-out toothbrush in a black stone holder, a few small washcloths that have seen better days, and a nearly empty bottle of hand soap are all that’s on the counter.
I pause brushing my teeth to let out a laugh, noticing the lack of grooming products. I wonder when the last time he shaved or got a haircut was. After rinsing my mouth out, I grab the facewash out of my bag and pad toward the shower.
I turn it on to let it warm up, holding my hand through the curtain until it’s hot enough. After shucking my clothes, I step inside and close my eyes with a sigh as soon as the calming stream of water lands on my skin.
With my eyelids still closed, I furrow my brow and take a deep inhale. What the hell is thatsmell? It’s strong . . . fresh and earthy.
When my eyes finally open, they land on the bar of soap resting on the tiled ledge to my right. The scent reminds me of a crisp mountain stream. I reach out to touch it, realizing Ledger probably just used this.
A few inches away from the soap, I hesitate with my hand frozen mid-air.
I shouldn’t. It’s intimate to use other people’s things. I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.
But it smellssogood . . .
Despite my inner voice of reason, I grip the green bar and glide it across the top of my thighs, my stomach, and then up the side of my neck.
Audacious? Yeah, probably. Okay, most definitely.
I laugh through my nose, reflecting on the number of ridiculous things that have transpired since this day began. Here I am adding to the list voluntarily, and I don’t know if that makes me plain stupid or opportunistic.
I step back under the water, relishing the surrounding scent as the suds roll off my skin.
It’s just soap. He’ll never know.
Chapter Six
Ledger
My hair is still slightly dampfrom my shower, and I run a hand through it while staring at my temporary roommate’s open suitcases strewn around the living room. Most of the contents seem to be clothing, although one bag in particular is nothing but cameras, each neatly protected in their own section of the suitcase by a plush divider. Another one looks to be filled with an array of different lenses.
So . . . photographer? That, or just an obsession with camera collecting.
On the corner of one open suitcase, a white bikini top hangs over. The strings are tiny, and the triangle of fabric attached isn’t much bigger. As if on cue to smack me back to reality before my next thought, I hear the shower turn off in the bathroom.
