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CHAPTER9
Good Girl, Bad Girl~Cora
Stayingat the motel wasn’t an option. It looked like it was infested with rats and run by some low-life convict and his scary friends. I sucked in a breath and slumped back into the seat. Brett’s irritating yet intoxicating smile shined through the darkness, and I rolled my eyes. We didn’t speak for the rest of the ride, but he made it a point to get under my skin the entire way.
The small glances in my direction, where the flicker of light from the lightning in the sky bounced off his chocolate irises. The strong spider web of veins that ran under the toasted tanned skin of his hands. I tried to look away, but something about him had my eyes glued to his muscular frame. Even in the darkness of the truck, his body took up the entire seat. Forgetting about our little kiss was going to be a problem because the memory engraved itself on my brain. Everything about it was wrong, but for some odd reason, it felt so right. Our gazes locked, and my pulse staggered.
“Something on your mind, baby girl?” His voice reminded me of silk dipped in trouble. Smooth, deep, and dangerous.
I pressed my palms into my arms and shook my head. He refused to break his stare, looking at me like I was some sort of dessert. He slowed the truck and started down the dirt road toward the cabin. Memories resurfaced and a wave of nostalgia rolled off my shoulders. The cabin had always been my second home, and I'd spent my days sitting at the lake while dad made sandwiches and waited for me to come in to scarf them down like I hadn’t eaten in years.
Layers of dead pine needles crunched under the truck's weight, and the worn oak logs of the cabin came into view. Forgetting for a split second that Brett would be joining me on my little vacation, I opened the door and made sure to slam it hard before walking to the front door.
“Doors locked,” he yelled.
I stopped in my tracks and turned around slowly before popping my hip out. “Let me guess. You have a key to?”
An annoying and even more titillating smile crawled across his lips, and he pulled my backpack from the front seat. “Nope. I just use the one under the mat.” His eyes cascaded in the direction of my feet, and I bent down, rolling one corner of the mat to reveal a small key.
“I didn’t know he left one here.”
“He didn’t. I did. You know your dad thinks the world is too full of shit people with bad intentions to leave a key under the welcome mat.”
“Can you blame him?”
He shrugged and placed my backpack near my feet. “It depends on what you consider bad intentions.”
I let his words flow in one ear and out the other and opened the door. I wrinkled my nose at the musty earth smell that lingered in the air. The cabin was cool, dark, and depressing.Ugh. I guess I should have stayed home.
I stepped further inside and stood in the middle of the small room. I didn’t remember it being this small, or maybe it just seemed that way because I had an uninvited guest. I circled the living room and entered the kitchen. A light covering of dust settled on the countertops, and I swiped my finger across it. Brett’s heavy footsteps smashed the dead leaves with each step, and the sliver of light illuminating from his truck vanished, leaving me in pitch blackness.
“Thanks a lot,” I yelled.
“For what?” He flicked on the living room light, and a warm hue lit the small space. He dropped his bags to the floor, and my shoulders jumped at the thump.
He toed off his dirty boots and placed them on the shoe tray near the door. I stood behind the center island, observing every flex his bulging muscles made as he rearranged his things. The man was made of steel, and no amount of clothing could hide that. The stiff denim of his jeans stretched across his trunk-like thighs as he kneeled. I never paid attention to older guys, even ones only a few years older than me. Emma liked them seasoned, or whatever she called the ones old enough to be her dad. I always avoided the conversation when she started to veer off into old man territory. I always thought Josh was the one for me until I found out he wasn’t.
I swirled around and pried open the fridge door. Three empty shelves and a pile of expired ketchup packets greeted me. “Ugh.”
“Hungry?” He walked over to the fridge, his steps slow and steady.
I took a step back and leaned against the center island. “We have no food. All the food was in my car, the one that you left behind.” I twirled a lock of hair around my finger and crossed one ankle over the other.
He raised his hands. “I have food.”
“What? Why?”
His back met my gaze as he walked over to the door where his pile of bags sat. Grabbing two large grey totes, he carried them over and set them on the center island. “Why? Because I had no plans of starving while here.”
He unzipped the first bag, retrieving fruits, vegetables, cheese, and other yummy contraband that I wanted to shove past my lips in an act of desperation.
I grabbed the loaf of brioche bread and leaned in. “What is this? The Mary Poppins bag of food?”
He pulled out a few more items and then placed the bag on the floor. “No, it’s just a big bag, baby.”
My stomach tightened at his words.Baby.I couldn’t remember the last time someone else called me baby, but apparently, I liked it. He brought the other large grey bag and set it down on the center island.
“Do the honors,” he said as he slid it over toward me.
