Page 17 of A Love Like Candle Light

“It’s fine,” I assure her with a quick nod. “Let me go check if I’m still needed here. I’ll be right back.” And try not to freak out at offering my guest room to a stunning woman I’ve known for all of three hours while I’m at it.

Chapter 6

Kylie

After years of watching true crime documentaries, I never thought I’d end up in a situation with the potential to end up on one of their episodes myself.

Arrogantly, I thought I’d be more careful and skeptical of strangers. And now I’m going home with one who apparently lives in the middle of a fucking forest? Oh, this might have been a bad idea. Not the worst I ever had so far, but it has potential to take the top spot, depending on if I make it to tomorrow alive.

I’m in my own car, following behind Erik, who’s turning into what seems to be a long-winded driveway lined by sky-high pines casting the scariest shadows I’ve ever seen in the rays of a very bright full moon.

Abby whines on my back seat. I glance at my rearview mirror to watch her.

“I know, girly.” I sigh and run my hand over my face. “This was a bad idea.”

Was it, though? I mean, he’s the officer who’s apparently responsible for this town, and I didn’t exactly get any creepy or unsettling vibes from him.

Wasn’t Ted Bundy known to be charismatic?

Then again, I’m not sure ‘charismatic’ is a word I’d use to describe Erik. Apart from the fact he’s hot, he’s a little gruff around the edges but seems as genuine as they come. And the others seem to think so too.

Hell, Erik even made sure I exchanged numbers with Nic, Lauren, and Kieran, to make me feel better.

What kind of serial killer would insist on making their job harder?

But still, unease settles in my stomach.

Or is it? Maybe my ‘I’m about to die’ anxiety is misplaced and I’m actually nervous because I’m staying over at a hot guy’s house. Which hasn’t happened, in like, ever. After all, Zach and I got together when we were super young, way before I would have ever called him ‘hot.’ If I recall correctly, the word I used to describe him to friends back then was ‘cute’ or ‘handsome.’ I never even got into the grown-up dating game.

Oh God, am I in the grown-up dating game now? I don’t even know how it works! Is this what people these days are doing and I’m only clueless? Going to a stranger’s house in the middle of a forest after knowing them for an afternoon?

Finally, Erik pulls aside and my headlights reveal a house. It’s cute. At least from the outside, it doesn’t give me bachelor pad vibes. A blinding porch light turns on as soon as our cars pull in next to it, revealing a manicured lawn and cute little porch.

“Here goes nothing,” I mutter under my breath and square my shoulders. Then I get out, but I don’t close my car door yet. Just in case I need to book it out of here.

“Here we are. This is my humble abode,” Erik declares and rounds his car. Huh? Where did the broody, closed off guy from before go? Suddenly, he seems softer around the edges and there’s even a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Is there anything I can help you carry inside?”

I stare at him, a heartbeat too long into awkward-territory. Get it together, Kylie!

“No, I’m good.” I shake my head and open the door to my back seat to let Abby out. Lastly, I grab the backpack I packed in a hurry once it was clear I wouldn’t be able to stay in my house tonight from the trunk. “Thank you again for letting me stay in your guest room tonight.”

“You’re very welcome. Come on, I’ll show you your room.” He walks ahead and while I’d love to admire his broad shoulders, my eyes dart around to check for easy escape routes should worse come to worst.

Obviously, I could run back the same way we came from, but as recently deducted, I’m not a good runner. My best bet would be to find a good hiding place. Abby is a way better runner, she’d be alright by herself, I reckon.

Mentally, I’m already smearing mud onto my face to blend in better with my surroundings, when I notice him holding the door open for me.

And the amused glint in his eyes is first off, very cute, and secondly tells me he knows exactly what I was thinking about.

Not embarrassing at all. Totally not.

“You’re staying right here,” he declares, thankfully ignoring my escape plan daydreaming and opens a door. Still, I’m only listening with half an ear, my eyes darting around his hallway. I’m nosy, sue me.

It’s cluttered in a lived-in way, though not messy. The walls of his hallway are lined with pictures of nature, and a dresser is almost hidden under a huge stack of newspapers.

“Kylie?”