Finding Him (Covet 2)

“I don’t suppose”—I licked my dry lips—“that the owner just forgot to pay the electricity bill?”

“The storm.” His voice sounded deeper in the dark, grittier, and then another whiff of his cologne caught me as he pulled out something, his cell, and dialed another number. “Bridge, yeah, I’m here. Funny, though, someone else is too? At our cabin.”

Oh no, no, no, no.

His cabin?

He was the owner?

Asshat of the year?

“She won’t give me her name but she pointed a knife at my throat, so if I’m in the news again, remember, this is all your fault.”

I scowled as my cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I didn’t try to kill you.”

“Yeah, that’s her.” He completely ignored me. “I’m not answering that. Look, the power just went out, and she booked it for one full month so I need to find a place, but the weather is shit. Have Kelsey find me a place to stay for the next few weeks that isn’t occupied, will you? Either that or find a way to get this interloper the hell out.”

“Still here,” I muttered.

“Still not answering that.”

What was he being asked?

“You’re such a pain in the ass, Bridge. No, damn it. Now go be annoying elsewhere . . . I’m staying the night so you don’t find my frozen body later. Bye.”

He hung up. And turned to face me. The snow and all the floor-to-ceiling windows helped the lighting a bit.

He was too pretty to be so angry. The slant of his eyes was assessing as he looked down at the Italian marble floor then back to me, his full lips pressed into what looked like a judgmental smile. I gulped, waiting for him to say something. I was close enough to feel his body heat; it pulsed in cadence with his anger, and it was all directed at me.

“I’m assuming a girl who knows how to wield a knife knows how to build a fire?”

I gave him a light shrug. “I mean I don’t think I could survive Naked and Afraid, but I could manage a fire.”

“Perfect.” He grinned coldly. “Build a fire.”

And then he was shoving past me.

“Wait! What are you going to do?” He moved toward the breakfast bar like . . . well, like he owned the place, which apparently he did. I was ready to remind him that I was a paying tenant and that the food and everything else was mine, but I was distracted by his confident swagger. Had he just been born with it? Or was it a learned habit?

“Me?” He gave me an incredulous look as he pulled out my whiskey and unscrewed the top. “I’m gonna drink. Better hurry, the firewood should be out front, but it’s getting cold. I’d hate to see you freeze a finger off. How would you hold a knife then?”

“You’re going to get drunk while I take care of our basic human needs?”

“Think of it this way . . .” He smirked. “If you don’t build a fire, we’re going to have to get naked and share body heat, and I highly doubt that would be your first choice, since you’re already so fucking frigid.”

I almost picked up the knife.

I almost threw it at his perfect face.

Instead, I took the high road, flipped him off, and went in search of my coat.

Well, at least he wasn’t Ted Bundy.

Just a grumpy millionaire who forgot he’d rented out his cabin to someone who needed it more than he did.

Perfect.

Chapter Four

JULIAN

There was something vaguely familiar about her heart-shaped face . . . maybe it was the full lips? They were more pink than red, and seemed to turn up in a snarl every time I opened my mouth.

Who the hell was she? And why didn’t my secretary make sure that the cabin wasn’t rented? Then again, I’d been in such a hurry to get the hell out of the city it probably wouldn’t have mattered. I wanted my cabin, I didn’t care if someone else was in it. It was mine, and she didn’t belong.

I tipped the whiskey back, reveling in the smooth burn as it hit the back of my throat. At least she knew her alcohol. I was in a foul mood, and finding some random stranger in the same cabin that my mom used to take us to when we were kids, before the divorce, just made it that much more invasive.

She was in my space.

Our space.

She was strutting around in our memories, sitting in places I remembered my mom sitting in.

I hated it.

And I hated her because of it.

She had no right.

The minute I was back in the city I was going to take this place off whatever rental site it was on, permanently. Strangers had no business in our lives.

I poured two shots of whiskey into my coffee cup and watched while the strange woman slammed the door behind her, only to come back minutes later without any firewood.