1
SEBASTIAN
I unpack the last box, then pause. A sigh comes from me as I look around the renovated historic house. The backyard has a small, flat area before the forest engulfs it. When I look out my window, I see a trail where the former resident jogged through the woods, which works for me. I’d much rather deal with nature than people.
I push the box aside, needing a drink.
Standing, I walk through the house—way too large for the average single person, but perfect for me. I like space and privacy.
Passing the patio doors, I glance out at the vast deck stretching across the back of the house. The boards shine beneath the late afternoon sun. The former owner clearly put a lot of time and attention into this place before his death.
My attention shifts to the large living room on my right. A fire roars in the fireplace. A large screen TV is centered above the mantle. The room is big enough that the U-shaped furniture fits without crowding the space. From here, I can see the front door and most of the hallway.
I frown, gaze landing on the large front windows.
Too exposed at night. I'll fix that.
I keep moving into the kitchen and open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water.
Old Mill Row in Hollow Creek, Vermont. Who would’ve thought I’d move here?
Certainly not me.
I take a long drink, the memory sharp. When my co-worker, Marcus, first suggested I move here, I thought he was crazy. I was fine living in the city three blocks from the office. Or so I thought.
I didn’t realize I’d outgrown it until he sent me the pictures of this house, and my curiosity was piqued.
The photos of the house—and a quick search of the town on Google Maps—showed a quiet, affluent neighborhood lined with historic homes. The crime rate was low, and the area seemed quaint.
On a whim, I made an offer.
I was shocked when they accepted it.
Now, here I am in a strange town where I don’t know a soul.
And I like it that way.
I sitat a table in the back of the bar, doubting my sanity. The music is too loud, and there are too many people here. I must’ve been out of my mind when I agreed to meet Marcus here.
Irritation flares as I look at my phone—again. Marcus is late. I don’t know why I thought he’d be on time.
I take another pull of my beer and set it on the table.Drumming my fingers, I debate leaving before Marcus gets here. I just want to go the hell home where it’s quiet and peaceful. But if he catches me walking out, I’ll never hear the end of it.
Damn it. Where the hell is he?
If the asshole can’t make it, he should text me.
My eyes roam the bar, locking with a pair of striking green ones framed by long black lashes. Her brunette hair catches the light, creating a halo around her head. She’s strikingly beautiful in a way I shouldn’t care about, since I don’t do relationships.
I suck at one-night stands. I had a few before the last one convinced me I’m better off alone. When I thanked her after sex and got up to get dressed, she freaked out and threatened to curse me with impotence. Then she tried to set my clothes on fire. I ran out of there half-dressed, genuinely concerned she’d put a hex on me.
As I sped away, I vowed to enjoy my solitude. I seemed to attract all the crazies, anyway.
Averting my eyes, I focus on the ring of condensation on the table as I swirl my bottle aimlessly. I check my phone again.
Nothing.
With a sigh, I sit back in my chair, my eyes drifting to the brunette again. There’s something about her that keeps drawing my attention. She’s standing beside the waitress, laughing at something she said. Even over the thumping beat of the rock music, I swear I hear it.
