AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER4
Penelope
I can’t believeI drifted off. The car ride and the sense of safety I feel around Cannon lulled me to sleep. I blink against the onslaught of light. I squint at the time on the dash. It’s seven. We’ve been driving more than a couple of hours.
Our speed has slowed. “Can I sit up?” I mumble.
“Yeah, it’s safe now.”
My muscles protest and a groan sneaks out as I change positions. I push my hair off my face. It’s a thick mess and there’s bits of grass and dirt tangled in the strands. I stay in a mermaid position and keep my legs on the seat. My leggings are ripped, and my ankle is twice its normal size. My foot in my shoe looks like a marshmallow stuffed into a matchbox and throbs with its own heartbeat. The flats were a poor choice to go running over rugged terrain, but they were the only option.
I can see the back of Cannon’s head. He’s ditched the dark cap. No man should look that good with hat head. His black shirt sinfully outlines his arms, and he’s only sitting. I can see his face in the rearview mirror, but he keeps his focus on the road.
His eyes are lined with fatigue. He can’t hide how tired he is this morning.
I swallow my guilt and take a look at the surroundings. My lips part. The area is gorgeous. The road we’re on is bordered on both sides by tall trees, but one side steeply slopes down. Browns and reds of roofs poke through the green in various spots. This is farther into the mountains from where Roman’s men stopped us, but that’s all I know.
“It’s pretty.” I lean against the door and use the pillow as a cushion for my shoulder.
“I don’t get back here a lot.”
“It’s so far away from everything.”
“Yeah.”
But that’s not why he doesn’t get out here much. Is it Kase and Jacobi that keep him in the city? Is he afraid he’ll become a hermit who doesn’t interact with anyone? A regular mountain man?
I shiver. I don’t need more reasons to find him attractive. It’s gotten me into trouble.
I cover my yawn with a hand and let the scenery fill me with as much peace as possible until he drives into a valley and turns onto a dirt road.
Oh, my… The house that comes into view is like an Aspen alpine cabin. Large picture windows are framed with log beams. A porch runs the length of the front of the house. The place isn’t large, but its visual impact is huge.
The garage is a tuck under, situated under half of the upper level. Cannon hits a button, and the doors open. We pull inside, and he closes us in.
The space isn’t full of clutter, but it has more than I expect in a safe house. A simple workbench lines the back wall, and a toolbox on wheels is pushed into the corner. A punching bag hangs in the other corner, and an upside-down mountain bike is hooked onto the ceiling.
Out of habit, I wait for Cannon to open the door for me. I scoot to the edge of the seat and put my good foot on the ground. Every muscle hurts as I straighten. The beat of my pulse in my injured ankle thrums harder as my foot hangs down.
“Don’t walk on it.” He stoops and picks me up like I’m his bride and he’s going to carry me over the threshold.
I almost jump out of his arms. I’m no bride. I’m trying not to be a bride. I don’t need to think about sweet marital gestures I missed out on with a man who isn’t the one who’s supposed to sign my divorce papers. Instead, I settle for trying to block out Cannon’s masculine scent that’s spiked with the vanilla air freshener from the vehicle.
“Can you get the door?” he asks.
I expect a few levers and a code, but it’s a simple brass doorknob. The door creaks as it opens.
“I don’t lock it. If anyone gets into the garage, another door won’t stop them.” He maneuvers us into the house, and the door slams closed behind us. I jump, and Cannon’s hold tightens a fraction as he takes the stairs.
The inside is simple. The exposed beams are all the decorations needed. He sweeps by a kitchen that’s the perfect size for one person to bake cookies or two people to bump into each other and laugh while cooking supper.
Longing pulls at my heart. I had wanted that so badly when I got married. I wanted to learn to make cookies. To cook and bake and enjoy my home. But Mother was busy with finding new flavors and the cooking was left to the staff.
He takes me down a hallway. No pictures are on the walls. No knickknacks. Nothing that would tell me someone lived here other than the bed with a thick duvet and a few pillows in the bedroom he carries me into.
He stops. “Do you want to use the bathroom first?”
“Oh. Yes.” I have nothing with me, but I could rinse off.
