Page 4 of The Grump I Got Stuck With

“Too much posh stuffed in those ears, Lord Shut-In?”

I scowled at her. “You should be grateful I didn’t nail that dog door closed.”

“You should be grateful I didn’t just smash a window, because that was my next plan.”

“Breaking and entering and destruction of property? Were you raised by wolves?”

“No, but I didn’t really fancy dying in snowmageddon,” she said. “If it weren’t for the storm, the last place I’d want to be is your horror movie slasher castle.”

“Well, then we’re in agreement. Because the last thing I want is strangers in my house.” My temple throbbed. I needed to get this irritating woman out of my face. And her little dog too.

“So, to be clear, since you didn’t actually say the words. Are you going to let me stay, or do I have to beg?” Madison said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, Lord Shut-In, keeper of creepy castles in the middle of nowhere, please take mercy on me. I swear I’m not a journalist. I don’t even like to read the papers.”

“Be quiet so I can think.” I pinched the bridge of my nose again, massaging my eyes. As tempting as it was, there was no way I would turn her out into the storm. She and that wee menace of a dog wouldn’t make it. And the last thing I needed was more media descending because some woman was discovered frozen in her car outside Dunhope Castle.

“What is there to think about?” Madison said, inching toward me. I became sharply aware of how close we were standing—and I noticed her shivering.

Fuck.

“Come away from the door,” I said, waving her further into the kitchen. She stropped over to the island, looking around with curiosity. But…she didn’t seem to be scoping things out the way a reporter would. She made eye contact with me when we spoke, but she didn’t scan me the way journalists did, as if they were already mentally framing how they’d describe me to their readers. My tablet was on the table nearby, along with some paperwork I’d been reviewing earlier, but she showed zero interest in them. As I watched her, I realized that most of her glances were toward the cupboards, the fridge, the oven. She was scoping them out like someone whose primary interest was less in getting an interview and more in getting a snack and maybe a hot cup of tea.

Was it possible she really had no idea who I was? Could she actually be just a tourist who’d gotten lost? I could feel myself coming around to the idea, in spite of myself. Besides, what kind of journalist traveled with a tiny, yappy dog while on assignment? I still wasn’t completely ruling out that this was some sort of scheme—I’d still have to keep my guard up—but for tonight, at least, I was going to have to put my reservations aside and let her stay.

“Fine,” I bit out. “You can wait out the storm tonight. I’ll show you to one of the guest rooms.”

“Oh, thank you, my liege.” Madison grabbed her duffle and made a poor attempt at a curtsy. “We are ever so grateful for your hospitality.”

“Gratitude suits you. You should try it more often.” I turned and led her upstairs to one of the guest rooms in the east wing. The bedroom was sparsely decorated but clean. Florence, my housekeeper, kept a few guest rooms dusted and maintained with fresh sheets in case Weston or Locke ever needed a place to crash. I didn’t want people around, but for my two best friends, I’d always make an exception. “You can stay here. But you’re forbidden to wander.”

“Forbidden?” Madison scoffed. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” I said. “In the morning, we’ll figure out how to get you to town. But until then, stay out of my hair. And stay out of the west wing.”

2

MADISON

Okay, wow.

So much for Scottish hospitality. Alistair might look like a dream with that lushly tousled hair and those blue eyes and that chin dimple, but his attitude left much to be desired. I mean, he didn’t even bother to introduce himself. I only knew his name from overhearing it when he called that Lyle guy to see if he’d come get my van.

The man was rudeness personified.

Though just in case this guy really was an axe murderer—which I mostly doubted—I needed to send signs of life back home. I’d already done the smart thing and changed my voicemail when I’d gotten stranded. Anyone calling would at least know my last location. Now if I could just get some service bars, I could text my BFF.

I wandered around with my phone held aloft, wondering which lord or lady had once occupied this room. The thing was massive, with velvet-draped windows, thick stone walls that almost blocked out the sound of the howling wind, a fireplace with a mantle taller than me, and a giant four-poster bed.

I couldn’t believe this was a guest room. What did the master have—an indoor swimming pool? I stopped gaping and looked down at Princess. “Pretty sweet, right? Guess we can check ‘sleep in a castle’ off our bucket list.”

Princess jumped at my leg, staring up at me, her tiny tongue hanging out of her mouth.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” I told her. “I didn’t like the guy any more than you did. But at least here we have a blanket and a pillow that’s not frosted over.”

Princess cocked her head, whining. She sat down, tail tapping against the plush carpet. I imagined a squeaky little voice saying, but at what cost?

“I know, I know! He’s a capital J jerk. Like obviously I would have preferred if he’d just answered the door in the first place. Or if he hadn’t been home and we could’ve had the place to ourselves. Maybe then we could have done some exploring.” Though honestly, if it had been just Princess and me here, I’d probably have found the nearest bed and called it quits. The urge to explore was only because he’d told me not to. It was like telling someone not to think about pink elephants.

Princess skipped across the room, pawing at the bottom of the bed frame. She looked even smaller than usual set against the giant furniture.