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Chapter Four
Lilith knew she should be grateful that Preppy Von Yachterson had turned out to be way less of an asshole than she’d anticipated. But she could also feel her little scratching at the surface of her skin, wanting to break through to see if that burst of daddy that’d come out of his mouth was for real or if he was just a highhanded jackass.
It was so tempting too, because she bet if he didn’t try to feel her up he would give really good hugs. He was just the right kind of big and brawny for that.
It was nice, sometimes, after a long night at work to come back to the cabin she’d stayed in while she worked at Lake Pines and sit on the floor to color at her coffee table, or to treat herself to a dinner of sweet potato fries with tons of ketchup and dino-shaped nuggets that she dipped in honey while she watched cartoons.
Yeah, it made her feel like a hermit crab between shells, all squishy and vulnerable, but there was no one there to see her suck on her paci or wear her onesie pajamas or do her word searches. It was private and she had control over it.
Being here with this guy Vance, though, she couldn’t let him see that part of her. More than he already had anyway. She had to keep her shit together long enough to get him out of here.
She prided herself on having a good bullshit radar, and despite her misgivings about pretty much anyone who was loaded enough to own a second home—how the fuck was that right when she couldn’t even afford one?—she did believe Vance when he said he’d leave.
Telling him anything about herself wasn’t her idea of a good time but it seemed like a reasonable trade.
“For how long?” she asked, and Vance blinked. He had these dark blue eyes like the lake on an overcast day but she wouldn’t let herself dive into them. Hell no. So she clarified her demand. “How long do I get to stay here if I tell you?”
Vance nodded, rubbed a couple fingers across his scruffy chin. “I dunno. How long do you need?”
Who the hell was this guy? And was he for real? Because that was crazy talk. Some woman breaks into your house and you ask her how long she needs a place to crash? Maybe he was the bonkers one.
Lilith started to do the math in her head. How long would it take to find another job? Especially if Chester the Molester started bad-mouthing her to the other managers and owners in the area—which he would because he was a turd.
And if she got a new job, how long would it take her to earn enough money for a deposit on a place? They were heading toward the high season so housing would be getting scarce and spendy the longer it took her to save up. But she also didn’t have much, what with her basic needs and sending Carey whatever she could.
The numbers were ugly, and it must’ve shown on her face because Vance shrugged his beefy shoulders. “Indefinitely as long as you don’t trash the place, I guess.”
He really was nuts, wasn’t he? Well, he might be a few bulbs short of a chandelier but she wasn’t one to walk away from a good deal when she saw one.
“Um, okay. Do you want money for utilities or anything? I don’t really have enough for rent. If I did—”
If she did, she wouldn’t be here, they wouldn’t be having this conversation.
Vance shook his head. “Nah. Not unless you’re going to set up a cryptocurrency farm or something.”
Yeah she’d heard of Bitcoin but she had no fucking idea how it worked so, “That’s not going to be an issue.”
“Then I guess we’re good. Except for that whole who-the-hell-are-you thing.”
He smiled at her then, more of a grin, really. Not the wolfish kind she was used to from the drunk guys who stumbled into the campground office late at night. More like a guy who was maybe trying to flirt with her, make her laugh because he wanted her to like him. Could be a lot worse.
“Hey, mind if I grab a drink and we have this conversation on the couch? It’s been a long week and I should rest up for my drive.”
* * *
What he really wanted was a beer, or to mix up an old-fashioned or maybe a Moscow mule. But drinking when he’d promised to get back on the road tonight wasn’t a good idea. He’d be passed out on that couch in five minutes flat.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” the woman said, and started to set her bags down next to the couch. “This stuff’s getting pretty heavy too.”
Vance went to the kitchen and snagged a glass, filled it with filtered water from the fridge.
“Want something while I’m in here?” he asked his quirky little home invader.
She made a little laugh, probably thinking what he was—life was real weird sometimes. This certainly wasn’t how he’d pictured tonight going.
Then, still clutching the bat she hadn’t let go of, she divested herself of the rest of the things she’d been holding, and shrugged. “Um, yeah. Water I guess. Thanks.”
He got another glass and brought their drinks back to the couch, set hers on the coffee table before wedging himself into the corner furthest away from her.
