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My cell pulses in my hand, and Brock’s name pops up.
I glance at Ashton one last time, then take the call, shutting the door between us.
CHAPTER11
ASHTON
I’m so stupid.How could I have even thought that someone like Jack— successful, powerful, handsome— would think of me as anything more than a quick lay?
Stupid, stupid Ashton. Always falling for the wrong guy.
I swipe at the hot tears rolling down my face, wishing desperately that I could remember the code to my rental. I just want out of this cabin, away from Jack and all his bravado and stupid boys club innuendo.
I’m such an idiot.
And this is why you don’t get involved.
Because now my feelings are all sorts of hurt, burning shame pulsing through me, and I’m fifteen all over again. The boys tormenting me because Ty Hamilton and I made out behind the bleachers after a football game.
He never even called me after that night.
Stop it. This isn’t your fault. You’re a grown-ass woman. It’s fine.
Except I feel like a moron, putting myself out there, taking Jack at his word and believing that he might actually be different. That he might be interested in something more than a fling.
As if.
I snatch up my towel and bathing suit, shove my feet into my flip-flops, and slip out the front door. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to remember the rental code. Or find an unlocked window and crawl in or something. Now that it’s daytime, I might have better luck.
The snow’s freezing on my bare toes and I shiver, the icy wind whipping at my face as I round the house. Climbing the stairs to the deck, I stare at the keypad, willing my muscle memory to kick in. 1-4-7-something-something-something!
That’s definitely not going to do it. I peer into the kitchen, utter despair swirling in my gut.
Dammit.
Setting my things down on the table, I move to the nearest window and attempt to raise it. Locked. I try each of the windows one by one, but none of them budge, and now my fingers are every bit as frozen as my toes. I’m probably gonna die of frostbite. Not that Jack will care.
More tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision.
What was I thinking, putting myself out there like that? And how could he be so callous?I thought he was different, better. Turns out, I was wrong. My picker’s broken, that’s for damn sure.
And every single back window is locked. Now what?
I wipe away my tears with the sleeve of Jack’s sweatshirt and huff out a breath, thinking. Maybe a side or front window will be unlocked. Doubtful, but worth a shot.
I gingerly make my way down the steps, then trudge through the snow toward the front of the house, my bare feet absolutely freezing. Once I’m on the porch, I hop up and down, rubbing my toes to get circulation back. If I can’t get in soon, I’ll have no choice but to go back to Jack’s cabin.
Glancing around, I notice a miniature Christmas tree standing by the front door. Yesterday, I paid no attention to the decorations, filled with excitement about the vacation. I wonder…
I kneel down and tip the tree up, patting underneath the square tree stand. A scrape of metal shrieks out and excitement pings through me as I grasp the cool object.
A spare key.
With shaky hands, I pull the key out and hold it up to the sky. I half expect a choir of angels to sing out, but the only sound is the rumble of the electric company’s truck off in the distance.
Standing, I dust off my hands, then try the lock.
And— it’s a Christmas miracle. The latch clicks and I shove through the door into the rental. The air’s chilly, but a hell of a lot warmer than outside. A shiver runs through me, but I ignore it and hustle to the kitchen to grab my cell. Hopefully I don’t have five hundred missed calls.
