CHAPTER FOUR
Adalyn
Unbelievable.
I couldn’t believe he’d just said that and walked away.
Right back to my cabin.
With a huff, I stomped back to the car and fished out my phone.
The screen flashed with dozens of messages and missed calls. All from Matthew. I—
Shoot. I’d completely forgotten about him.
I scanned the notifications, finding everything from extremely concerned texts to threats about calling the fire brigade or worse, my mother, if I didn’t give any sign of being alive. I fired him a quick text.
ADALYN: I’m okay. Call was dropped and I was out of reception.
The only truth in that statement was about the call being dropped. And Matthew must have been genuinely concerned because in matter of seconds I had an answer from him.
MATTHEW: WTF ADALYN. YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I WAS?
I sighed. He was probably right to be a little upset but…
ADALYN: Stop worrying about me like I’m some helpless child and trust me. I’m fine.
I stared at the screen, feeling like a jerk for snapping at my best friend, but I was still rattled from the encounter with that… man. The three dots started jumping, but I didn’t wait around to see what he was typing.
ADALYN: I’ll call you later—and please, do not call Maricela.
I locked my screen and released a long breath, allowing myself a full minute to regroup. My head was pounding but it wasn’t anything a few painkillers couldn’t fix. I didn’t need a hospital. Or ice. And I surely did not need a complete stranger telling me what I did or did not need.
With a newfound surge of energy, I gave myself a shake and made my way to the cabin—my cabin, which he was currently, and possibly illegally, occupying—as I pulled out the booking confirmation from my email. After scrolling down a few times I found the message. I clicked on it, scanning the contents.
There. There it was. Booking confirmation number. Adalyn Elisa Reyes. Address. Lazy Elk Lodge, Green Oak, North Carolina.
Lazy Elk Lodge. God, that name painted a pretty obvious picture—if one would actually check such things before arriving at their destination, that was.
I climbed the steps of the porch and made the effort to push that thought aside. Beating myself up over it wouldn’t fix anything now. My gaze roamed around and now that I was actually looking at it, I understood why someone might come here. The cabin was beautiful—if you were into that kind of thing. It was tall enough to accommodate two stories and floor-to-ceiling glass windows on each side of the entrance door, providing an elegant yet rustic look that perfectly complemented the landscape.
I reached the front door, allowing myself one single inhale of air before I rose my hand to knock.
The door swung open, as if he’d been on the other side waiting for me.
That face that was all hard and sharp lines beneath a short but unkempt beard was revealed. Green eyes I hadn’t noticed being that green met mine. They were still angry.
I opened my mouth, but now that I could take a good look at him from an upright, standing position, a strange feeling struck me. There was something about this man, about his face or perhaps that head full of dark hair or maybe even the breadth of his shoulders, that was… familiar? But how? My eyes roamed some more, stopping at his mouth. His lips were pressed in a tight pout that almost rang a bell somewhere in my head. Maybe if they weren’t obscured by all that facial hair…
“This was a mistake.” I saw—rather than heard—his mouth move around the words.
I met his gaze. “What do you mean?”
But instead of answering, he started closing the door.
I thrust my hand and foot forward, placing them between door and frame. “Wait.”
To his credit, he waited. He could have easily overpowered me and shut it. I wasn’t what one would consider a small woman, and I was wearing heels, but he still managed to tower over me. He also looked lean. Strong. My eyes bounced to the shoulder and arm that were visible through the slit of the door. A single word came to mind: athlete. I recognized a high-performance athlete when I saw one. It wasn’t the right moment, but I continued my inspection, returning to his face. My hazy brain was about to make the connection. I knew.
Yes. I’d seen those eyes before. That stubborn set of dark eyebrows that dipped low. That long and straight nose, too.
He muttered something under his breath, and I sensed his grip on the door changing. That’s when my eyes dipped down, landing on his fingers. Strong, long. His middle one slightly crooked. His pinky wore a signet ring with a C.
A C. But it couldn’t be. It—
He cleared his throat, making me snap out of it.
I lifted my phone. “Here’s my booking. Have a look and see for yourself. I rented this cabin.” I pushed the device into his face. “Lazy Elk Lodge.”
He grunted something unintelligible and finally threw the door open again.
“Listen,” I told him, using the voice I always employed in press conferences. Polite but firm. Straight to the point. “Worst-case scenario, this is an unfortunate case of double-booking, which would be none of our fault. But if that’s what happened, we need to clarify this.” I checked on his expression as he reluctantly scanned the screen of my phone. “Best-case scenario, you’re simply wrong. In which case I’ll leave you a few hours to vacate and be back later. I have things to do in town. No harm, no foul.”
A snort toppled out of his lips. “That’s an awfully bad apology.”
“I’m not apologizing, I’m trying to be civil.”
“You’re also not the tenant of Lazy Elk,” he countered, making my eyes narrow. “It says there that you booked the Sweet Heaven Cottage in the Lazy Elk Lodge.” He arched that pair of angry brows, daring to look bored. “Wherever that is. Now, if you don’t mind, I have stuff to do back in my cabin.”
I retrieved my phone, zooming in on the details of the email. “That can’t be right.” I scrolled down. Two large fingers popped into my field of vision, bringing my attention to a line: Sweet Heaven Cottage, 423 Lazy Elk Street, Lazy Elk Lodge. “But that can’t be right,” I repeated. “I circled the property with the car when I got here and there was nothing.” My eyes scanned every single foot of property around, searching almost desperately at this point. “There’s no street. And there’s no other cabin.”
And there wasn’t. Not really. But I did notice something else.
To the right of the porch we were standing on was a shed.
Not a cabin. Definitely not the cabin I was staying in, right?
Only, the more I looked the more impossible it was to miss the number hanging off a… timber pole that bent sideways under the September sun.
The number read: 423 LAZY ELK STREET.
My stomach dropped with dread and… something else.
I hadn’t seen the interior, but I didn’t need to. I wasn’t equipped to stay there. That strange sensation intensified and for the first time in my life, I wanted to throw in the towel and run back home with my tail between my legs. I’d be a disappointment on top of being an embarrassment, but this? A shed in some rural area I was clearly unequipped for? It was too much. I—
A chuckle came from behind me, low and deep and dripping with such condescension that it snagged me right away from the edge of the hole I’d been ready to jump in.
This wasn’t me. I promised myself this morning I wouldn’t be wobbly Adalyn any longer.
“It’ll be perfect,” I announced, turning around and meeting his gaze. His green eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t cower. It was right then when it finally clicked. I knew without a doubt who this man was. It was in the way he’d been so… conceited. So self-assured. This was a man used to winning. And he’d just won. I’d been in the wrong. I squared my shoulders with the last ounce of dignity I had left. “And rest assured, neighbor, now that I’ve found it, I’ll get out of your hair and let you get to that very important stuff you have to do.”
“I’m not your neighbor.”
“Looks to me like we are sharing the property, though.” I spread my arms. “The beautiful and cozy Lazy Elk Lodge, in lovely Green Oak.”
“You’re not staying,” he said in a strange tone. “You can’t possibly live”—a nod in the direction of the shed—“there.”
The corners of my lips inched higher at the way he was telling me and not asking. “Of course I can. I’ve booked it and have very important business to do in town.”
He let out a bitter, humorless chuckle. “Darling—”
“Please.” My expression turned to stone. “Don’t call me that.”
He frowned, probably because I’d accidentally said please. “Adalyn,” he said in that English accent I’d been wrong to assume was fake, making my name sound a way I wasn’t used to. “Adalyn Elisa Reyes.”
I didn’t understand why he’d done that—said my full name like that. I narrowed my eyes. “So you know how to read, congrats.”
Rather than annoyed, he seemed amused by my jab. “That’s not a cabin,” he continued. “It’s hardly a cottage. It’s a goddamn shack.”
“Your point?”
His eyes gave me an incredulous once-over. “You can’t possibly think that you’ll make it in there. Not short- and certainly not long-term.” He tilted his head. “In fact, I don’t think you’ll make it a single night there.”
He wasn’t wrong, I probably couldn’t. But I’d spent half a lifetime surrounded by men just like him. Competitive, judgmental; I didn’t like to be underestimated. And I’d already lost one battle to him.
“I guess we’ll have to see about that.” I turned around and climbed down the steps. When I was at the bottom, I looked at him over my shoulder and added, “Neighbor.”
“What do you mean it’s all booked?”
“There are no hotels, motels, or Airbnbs in Green Oak. There’s no other available property to rent short- or long-term. Just the Lazy Elk Lodge. I could look in the towns close by, but that means you’ll have to drive back and forth. It’s also the end of the high season. There’re lots of trekking routes, waterfalls, lakes, beautiful—”
“Kelly,” I said, unconsciously using my boss’s voice. “I’m not interested in what the area offers. I’m interested in finding some other accommodation. Any other. I can’t stay here.”
She hesitated, then said, “Define ‘can’t.’ ”
I appreciated Kelly, I really did. She always worked hard, had initiative, and never allowed anyone to walk over her, which was why I had snagged her from the ticketing division, where her raw potential would have been wasted. But sometimes she tested my patience.
“Picture a hunter’s hut.” I humored her, going for a clear enough picture of where I was. “Rotten and creaky wood that bends under your weight, one single window, the biggest set of antlers you’ve ever seen hanging off one wall.” I zeroed in on the thing, goosebumps running down my spine. “And before you ask, no. They’re not even the cool kind of antlers. They are the kind that make you think of death and flesh and bones.”
She clicked her tongue. “But the pictures looked so cozy. Isn’t there a little fireplace?”
My gaze jumped to the so-called fireplace. It was some sort of iron furnace that made clanking sounds. “In theory, yes. In reality, it’s a black hole that probably hosts something I don’t want to stir awake.”
“You mean, like a spirit? Or—”
“Kelly,” I said, shaking my head. “A living something, possibly with teeth and claws.”
She hummed. “What about the bed?” I glanced at the horrible piece of furniture. She continued, “It was so… rustic and low-key sexy? Like the kind of bed a lumberjack would do nasty—”
“It’s a very dated four-poster bed,” I rushed out, my eyelids fluttering shut to spare me the sight of that monstrosity. “And I am—was—your boss. I don’t want to hear about your sexual fantasies. Particularly not if they involve lumberjacks, and especially not if they involve the four-poster bed I’ll have to sleep in tonight.”
“I guess you’re more of a bodice-ripper girl, boss. And I don’t blame you. I’m just a little darker than that.” I blinked, at a loss for words. “Maybe it’s not so bad?” she offered. “Maybe all you need to do is yassify the cabin. Make it yours.”
I looked around, wondering if I could take advice from this woman who claimed to have a migraine at every minimal inconvenience and once signed off an email with “apologies for existing. :)”
No. I wasn’t Kelly. We weren’t that far apart in age but we were universes away, and in my universe, yassifying wasn’t something I could or knew how to do.
“Hey, boss?” Her voice brought me back. She hesitated, then said, “I need to go.”
I thought I could hear someone in the background. “Is David there?” I rushed out. “With you?”
“Er…”
I couldn’t believe what I was going to say, but I needed to escalate this. And unfortunately, that meant talking to my ex. “Pass him the phone. I want to speak to him.”
There was some rustling. Then Kelly said, “Sorry, but we already have an office paper supplier.” What? “We also are against deforestation. In fact, you should be ashamed of yourself. Paperless offices are the future, sir.”
“I know David is there.”
“I’ll be right with you, David, yes!” she exclaimed, her voice piercing my ear. Then she added in a hushed voice, “I need to run, boss. Remember to stay strong.”
Stay strong? “What do you—”
“Bye!”
And the call ended.
Stay strong. What did that even mean? And why had Kelly pretended to talk to somebody else? Something was amiss. And usually, that kicked me into action.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I unlocked my phone and started snapping pictures of this horrible, tiny, grisly shed-turned-cabin that had been decorated by a psychopath. I needed proof that this place wasn’t… habitable.
Once done with that, I rolled my suitcase to the narrow and slightly crooked coffee table that sat between the alleged fireplace and a one-person settee I had no intention of ever gracing with any of my body parts.
I started working the zipper, side-eyeing the settee, the four-poster bed, and… everything, when his words smacked right back into me.
I don’t think you’ll make it a single night there.
With a huff, I pulled my suitcase open and located my makeup bag. I couldn’t forget that I was on assignment here. I still needed to drive into town and find the Green Warriors. Who knew, maybe I’d misjudged the whole situation. Maybe this was just how rentals worked in the area. No hotels or motels, just… this. Cabin fever was a thing. In fact—
A noise outside caught my attention.
I stiffened, turned around slowly, walked to the window on my tiptoes, and shoved the flimsy curtain aside with a finger.
A tall figure was crossing the space between the cabins with long, determined strides.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Look at you,” I murmured under my breath. “Strutting out of your fancy lodging like you own the place.”
Which, technically, he kind of did. He rented the place. Or half of it, at least. The good, fancy half.
Now that I’d had a few minutes to myself, I couldn’t ignore how bothered I was. It irked me that he’d been right and I’d been in the wrong. I wasn’t used to being put in that position and when he’d pointed at Sweet Heaven Cottage, I’d felt… stupid. Dumb. And his quick judgment of my character, even if probably deserved, had made me feel even worse. He had hurt my pride, my intelligence, my sense of direction, and my ability to read. Perhaps, if this had happened at another time, I wouldn’t have cared. But it had happened today, and I wasn’t used to repeatedly embarrassing myself.
I could still see past my pride to know I should have apologized, though. At least for accidentally hitting him with the car. I felt horrible about that. And yet… as he walked the gravel path crisscrossing the property, I couldn’t shake the way he’d looked me up and down, skeptical and knowing, as if he could see how everything about me was inappropriate and unsuitable. Out of place.
I was out of place.
But so was he.
What was Cameron Caldani—two-time winner of IFFHS World’s Best Goalkeeper, former Premier League starter and, as of the last five years, MLS star—doing in Green Oak, North Carolina? The news about his retirement from the L.A. Stars had been sudden and relatively recent. I didn’t keep tabs on every player in the country, especially if they played in the Western Conference, but it was my job to stay informed. I couldn’t recall any particulars about his retirement being said. Just that he’d surprised everyone by announcing he’d hung up the gloves.
Cameron stopped at the curve closest to the edge of trees surrounding the property. I moved a little closer to the glass. The man was tall, which wasn’t uncommon for a goalkeeper, but he seemed larger and wider in person. Our paths had never crossed, which wasn’t strange, considering the L.A. Stars usually made it to the playoffs while the Flames never did. But I knew what he looked like. Cameron Caldani was a man hard to miss or overlook. It was the beard that had thrown me off. Probably the hit to the head. The setting, too.
One simply didn’t expect to find Cameron Caldani in the middle of the woods.
Matthew—who was the biggest soccer nerd I’d ever met—was going to lose his mind when he learned that Cameron Caldani was in Green Oak. He’d probably make a shrine to the bumper of my car because it had grazed Cameron’s body.
Which was exactly why Matthew could never know.
The man on the other side of the window knelt and picked something off the ground with those strong and slightly crooked fingers I’d seen up close and inspected. After a moment, I watched him search the vegetation in front of him.
His baritone voice rang out. Something that sounded like Cruiser or Booster. A pet’s name? I waited with him, expecting something to dash out of the woods. A dog? What kind of pet did someone like Cameron Caldani have? I was so immersed, so intrigued, that when he turned around to face the window I was standing in, it caught me unprepared.
Green eyes landed right on me.
And I… I dove.
Straight onto the not exactly smooth or clean floor of Sweet Heaven Cottage. I didn’t even know why I did that. It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong. I was being absurd considering I had faced meeting rooms and press conferences more intimidating than that man’s gaze.
With a shake of my head, I counted to three, lifted my chin, got up with as much class as I could possibly muster, and peeked out the window again.
There wasn’t a trace of Cameron Caldani.
He was gone, and in his wake he’d left behind what had to be… feathers.
“Oh God.” I groaned, a new rush of guilt washing over me.
Cameron’s pet. The one he’d been calling for just now. Cruiser or… Booster.
Could it be the chicken I’d hit with my car?
My eyelids fluttered shut. No wonder he’d been enraged.