Page 7 of The Agent’s Curvy Seduction

“Process faster. We’ve got a long drive.”

I almost smile at the bluntness. Almost. “Has anyone ever told you that your people skills need work?”

“Repeatedly.” The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile of his own. It disappears so fast I might have imagined it. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re stuck with me.”

Stuck with him. The words hang between us. I shift in the seat, very aware of how close his hand is to my thigh every time he rests it on the center console. I could move away. I don’t.

The highway climbs. Trees get thicker. The lights of the last town fade behind us. My phone has no signal. The isolation should freak me out more than it does. Instead, the further we get from the city, the easier it is to breathe.

“You really think this cabin is safe?”

“I know it is.” He glances at me again. This time his eyes linger a second longer. “I’ve used it before. No one finds it unless I bring them there.”

“And you’re bringing me.”

“Yeah.” His voice drops. “I am.”

Something in the way he says it makes my skin warm. I look away before he can see whatever is written on my face. The attraction is ridiculous. He’s a federal agent who just uprooted my entire life. He’s older. He’s intense. He’s currently driving me into the middle of nowhere with zero explanation beyond “trust me.”

There is absolutely no reason I should find any of that attractive.

Apparently, my body didn’t get the memo.

I press my thighs together again and force my attention to the dark trees blurring past the window. The road narrows. Gravel replaces pavement. The SUV handles the change without complaint. After what feels like forever, he turns onto a long dirt driveway that winds up through the trees.

The cabin appears out of the darkness like something from a postcard. Two stories. Wraparound porch. Warm light glowing from the windows even though no one should be here. It’s bigger than I expected. Remote doesn’t even begin to cover it. We’re surrounded by nothing but forest and the distant sound of water.

He parks and kills the engine. The sudden silence is heavy.

“Stay in the truck until I clear the place.”

I open my mouth to argue. He shoots me a look that shuts me up without a word. He gets out, rounds the front of the vehicle, and disappears onto the porch. I watch him move—efficient, silent, completely in control. A minute later the front door opens and he steps back into view. He nods once.

I climb out. The mountain air is cooler than the city. It smells like pine and damp earth. He takes my bag from the back seat before I can reach for it and leads me up the steps.

Inside, the cabin is warm and surprisingly lived-in. Leather couches. A big stone fireplace. A kitchen that opens to the main room. Windows that look out into pure black. It feels solid. Safe. Like a place that could keep the rest of the world out if it needed to.

He sets my bag down near the stairs and turns to face me fully for the first time since the bakery. The full force of his attention is a lot. Those blue-gray eyes move over my face like he’s cataloging every detail.

“You can take the master bedroom upstairs. Bathroom’s attached. Sheets are clean. There’s food in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever you need.”

I nod because my voice doesn’t seem to be working. The adrenaline is starting to crash. My hands are still trembling. I curl them into fists at my sides.

He takes a step closer. Not touching. Just close enough that I have to look up.

“You’re safe here, Willow.” His voice is quieter now, more serious. “No one gets to you while I’m breathing. You understand me?”

I should say yes. Or thank you. Or ask the hundred other questions still spinning through my head. Instead I just stare up at him, caught in the intensity of his gaze, and feel something shift deep in my chest.

This is moving way too fast. I know that. Any sane person would probably be looking for the nearest exit.

So why does part of me already feel safer than I have in seven months?

I swallow hard and finally find my voice.

“Okay.”

He watches me for another long second, like he’s waiting for something more. Then he nods once, short and final, and turns toward the kitchen.