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A Prius.
Why did the new tenants have to own a goddamn Prius?
In his mind, the hybrid vehicle screamed politically correct and that was all he needed to know.
P.J. was hoping for a Ram truck, or a jeep, or something more …manly.
Way to fuck up my mojo, Layla.
P.J. hoped that his new neighbor was not going to be some uptight, pain in the ass, who would give him a tough time. And to P.J.’s mind, anyone driving a hybrid car screamed trouble. He stood in the deep shadows of the front porch with his feet wide apart, his arms flexed and folded over his hard chest. P.J. narrowed his eyes as he watched the vehicle slow its speed to a hesitant crawl, pull over and park a few yards away from hi. When the car door opened P.J almost choked down the cigarette butt that was hanging from his mouth. Because the chick who walked out of that car was definitely not at all the uptight soccer mom that he had feared. Truth be told, P.J. wasn’t exactly sure what she was.
The moment that Juliet pulled up in front of the rental house a surge of relief came over her. The home was a heavily built structure. The large hewn logs and thick windows gave it a look of impenetrability. The cabin sat on the edge of a heavily wooded lot, and there were two huge pine trees that stood like sentries at the edge of the front yard. Their thickly gnarled roots poked through the brown grass and twisted like routes on a map leading home. Heavy cobblestoned steps led up to a sturdy porch. It ran the length of the house and was covered in pine needles. Best of all, there was a large swing that hung from four solid looking chains screwed into the porch roof. Its seat was covered with three faded, frayed, and lumpy cushions. As she stepped out of the car, Juliet was immediately struck by the cool, sharp, fresh air. Her first feeling was immediate and unmitigated joy.
This place was perfect, just what she needed and just what she had hoped for.
But thensnap.
Of course, it was all too perfect to be true.
When Juliet saw the man step out from the shadows, looking all menacing and pissed off, she knew at once that she probably should have seriously reconsidered driving past thoseNoTrespassingsigns. Juliet’s GPS had been spotty, and she must have arrived at the wrong address. The owner of the property, the person who had promised to meet her, had been a woman.
And this guy, with his inked up arms, long, thick hair, herculean build, and menacing scowl was definitely all man.
“Sorry. I must have taken a wrong turn!” Juliet yelled out as she turned to go back into the car.
A deep masculine voice rang out to her. “You here to rent the cabin?”
P.J. moved across the porch and down the steps quickly. But he stopped several feet from her. He was not unaware of the intimidation factor of his looks, or the isolated location of the cabin. P.J. knew that he was not at all what she had expected. This chick with her crazy hair, skinny legs and long black hoodie looked more than a little freaked out.
“Everything’s cool. No worries, Layla’s a friend of mine, she got held up, but she’s on her way now. She asked me to meet you here. My name is P.J. McCabe.” He held out his hand in greeting.
After a slight hesitation, Juliet stuck out her own hand and felt it at once engulfed by P.J.’s man paw. Juliet was at once struck by a strange sensation. There was something about P.J.’s thoroughly masculine appearance that was solid…safe. She wanted to drink in his scent, put her head on his big shoulder, and rest.
Get a hold of yourselfJuliet was mortified at her own thoughts. Because this absurdly intimate reaction she had to a man simply because he shook her hand? That showed just how tired she had become, how alone she felt. Definitely time to stop, gather her wits, and set herself straight.
P.J. mistook the look on Juliet’s face and withdrew his hand right away. “Did I hurt you? I don’t shake hands a lot with women. And these big mitts of mine? Sometimes they don’t know their own strength.” P.J. felt oddly embarrassed, a totally new feeling for him. “I don’t think Layla told me your name.”
“My name is Juliet. Juliet Jones.”
“Pretty.”
“What?” Juliet looked at P.J. McCabe like he was insane. And he didn’t blame her because honestly,prettywas not a word a guy might use to describe little Miss Jones. On a good day P.J. thought she might be passable. But today was not that day.
“Your name. I meant to say your name is pretty. From Romeo and Juliet, right?” P.J. said in way of explanation.
The green eyes that stared back at him so unflinchingly were tired. World weary in a disappointment-in-life kind of way. They were the color of summer ivy, flecked with gold, and fringed with thick dark lashes, but the brows above them were just one hair away from a uni-brow. Juliet’s ears were small and flat to her head but came to a small point at the top giving her the appearance of a fairy or a woodland sprite. The nails on her small, thin fingers were unpolished and bitten down to waning moons. She was skinny in an undernourished, unhealthy kind of way. Juliet’s skin was so pale that it reminded him of the underbelly of the fish he had caught last Sunday morning. Her clavicle bones were sharp enough to cut paper.
When Juliet had reached out to shake P.J.’s hand, a Hostess cupcake wrapper had fallen from the pocket of her hoodie.
But it was Juliet’s hair that really caught P.J.’s attention.
P.J. had always been partial to brunettes, and Juliet’s hair was a deep chestnut, with natural highlights of gold and copper.
At one point it must have been beautiful.
But now it looked as unhealthy as the rest of her.
It was without shine, and it capped Juliet’s head in a halo.
