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For a moment, the Kenwood deposit for my mom isn’t looking so far away. And the deadline for new residents is only two months from now. In some ways, it feels callous to profit from a woman who’s temporarily homeless, but in others… Perhaps Lizzie is a gift of Fate. Maybe we could make it a transaction of services, a mutually beneficial arrangement. I need the money and, until the weather changes and helps to dry out the East River hotel, she has nowhere to stay.
I snap back to the conversation at hand.
“I’m not letting you not stay another night,” I clarify. Regardless of the money, it’s not like I can let her sleep on the street. “There’s a difference.”
“Whatever you say, Big Foot.”
Big Foot? I decide not to touch that one.
“Come on. I’ve time to drop you off at the house before I have to go out to the Kenny farm. Jackson’s windows are gone again and, if I don’t get over there quick, his wife’s gonna be at them with the super glue.”
Lizzie’s lower lip juts out, apparently impressed.
“Creative woman,” she praises, jogging down the steps. She hollers a goodbye over her shoulder and I hear a faded reply from inside the house. Must be the agent.
“Creative?” I raise a brow in disbelief. “She uses it for everything.”
“Then she’s efficient too. Hey, if it works, what’s the problem?” Lizzie jokes, falling into step beside me. “I’d say that’s resourceful.”
“Last year she stuck three of my fingers together.”
I’ve never heard a woman make as inelegant a noise as Lizzie Lucas snorting with laughter. It turns my stomach into knots. Knots that feel worryingly pleasant.
Four hours later and I’m finally home. I keep the engine idling as I pull up so I can stay warm. I lean my head back against the headrest and blow on my fingers. Winter hasn’t yet settled over East River but with the altitude of the little town, it always gets cold damn fast, even at this time of the year.
When the numbness ebbs and painful tingles begin to dart up and down my fingers, I figure I’ve waited long enough to make the jog to the door without the risk of frostbite. Killing the motor, I rub a rough palm down my face and try to wake myself up.
You’re getting old before your time, Walker. It’s only—
I pause in my hunt for the dashboard clock.
What the?
I open the cab door and am immediately bombarded with noise.
“What in all that’s holy?” I can barely hear myself over the noise.
My home, so often kept in serene darkness and quiet, is normally at peace with the surrounding woodland. It’s built from locally sourced wood and there’s no satellite dish or antenna that gives away any modern conveniences. It had always been a haven and so easily overlooked.
Now it’s a monster.
The cabin’s windows are brightly lit, like glowing eyes, and it roars its presence with the heavy bass of eighties rock. The music practically seeps through the walls. The riffs of a bass guitar seem to shake the branches of the surrounding trees, and the thumping of the drums echoes through the earth. It sounds as if someone is having a private rock concert in my damn living room.
“Oh, hell no…”
Sprinting up the porch, I throw open the front door and hurry to the back of the house, where I skid to a spectacular stop, nearly sending myself over my own feet.
The room is in complete chaos.
The couch is pushed up against the back wall, the rug rolled into a cylinder beneath the window. The dining table is far away from its original position, with chairs stacked on top. Everything had been cleared back to make an open space in the middle of the room.
But I find myself completely unable to give a shit about the reorganizing.
Because in the center of the mayhem she’d created, Lizzie has taken to the floor. And it’s damn impossible to notice anything else.
Dressed in a Lycra sports bra and leggings that might as well have been a second skin, she’s dancing, spinning, undulating, and generally rocking out to the music. She moves with the confidence possessed by someone who thinks they’re completely alone. The rasping call of Joe Elliott and Def Leppard pours from a speaker somewhere. The music is so loud I can practically see the notes in the air, wrapping around Lizzie, licking at her skin.
Pour some sugar on me… Ooh, in the name of love!
