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“If you think a little fight is going to stop me from—”
“I’ll be moving into the attic like we originally agreed.” She backed away from me and headed down the hall to the front desk.
The foot traffic to the main desk of the lodge was lighter, so I could keep her in view and let her have some space. The conversation that had gone down earlier today wasn’t even a fight. She was just too independent for her own damn good and she was flexing against our arrangement.
Ishouldlet her move into the attic.
Hell, I should rig the whole house with cameras and lock her in. Of course we had more wedding crap to deal with, so that plan was out the window.
And now we had a freaking break-in to investigate. Aidan had done a sweep for suspicious activity at the orchard, but I’d assumed this shithead would go for more watching.
The idea that this guy had come out of his cave made me very uneasy. Was he just showing off? Or was he getting more dangerous?
While Chaos was chitchatting with the front desk person, I checked in with Aidan.
Ransom: The Ronsons had a break-in at the cider distillery. It’s out of the way and damn suspicious. Thoughts?
It didn’t take him long to reply.
Aidan: Is there usually crime in Nowheresville?
Ransom: Funny. There’s some, but usually of the petty variety. Twelve cases of cider earmarked for the wedding went missing.
Aidan: Anyone else likely to be problematic re: the wedding?
Ransom: Nah. Clay’s family is thrilled with the turn of events. The Ronsons would serve apple pie to their enemies ffs.
Aidan: Okay. I’m assuming no video.
Ransom: Going to check with the manager here, but it seems like there’s a blank spot in the video feed for the distillery.
Aidan: Great. I’m going to send you some extra small cameras to put around the orchard. They’re bluetooth so you should be able to hide them easily.
Ransom: Thanks. I’m going to use the ones you already sent to set up around the venue. If this asshat is trying to mess with the wedding, Willow will be pissed.
Aidan: Let’s hope that’s all he’s doing.
I cracked my knuckles because I’d been thinking the same.
I stuffed my phone in my pocket then headed for the desk. Chaos was straightening a stack of printed sheets. She was probably doing a quality check.
It was the off-season and no events were happening at the moment. But people were always staying at the Happy Acres Lodge. Laverne and Fred ran a nice place with good food and room for families to gather.
Things would be insane for the wedding and my head already hurt thinking about the logistics of it all. How the hell was I going to keep her under wraps with this guy actually coming out of his hole?
If he even was.
Was I overreacting? Was she?
The itch between my shoulder blades said no. And it had saved my life on more than one occasion.
She turned around as I approached. The emotions flitting across her face cut me off at the knees—awareness, disappointment, and then that goddamn backbone snapped tight and she straightened, her face full of resolve.
I nodded briefly at the woman behind the desk and ushered Chaos to the front doors. She still wasn’t fully talking to me, and the silence between us was slowly driving me mad.
Fine, not that slowly. I was in a fast burn.
The ride out to the cider mill on the outskirts of the orchard was more of the same. The road was rutted from the spring rain, and the air was sweet and heavy in the late afternoon warmth. Chaos had her window down and her face tilted to the wind.
