A Lie for a Lie (All In, #1)(10)

A nightstand also doubles as a side table for the seventies-era recliner in a color that resembles infant poop—sort of a yellowish, browny green. A very old tube TV is set against the opposing wall, complete with rabbit ears, which I didn’t even know still existed.

I’m not sure the information about satellite service was accurate, based on what I’m seeing. On the other side of the cabin is the kitchen, if one could even call it that. There’s a hot plate, a microwave, a sink, and a tiny bar fridge. The kind I had when I lived—very briefly—in off-campus student housing.

The biggest piece of furniture, other than the bed, is the two-seater table pushed up against the far wall. It’s conveniently located close to the tube TV, which is situated in the center of the room. Lucky me: I can watch TV from my bed, the recliner, or the table while I’m eating my noodles, which, based on the hot plate, are going to be my primary source of nourishment. And maybe fried eggs and bacon.

“This is great!” My voice is high and reedy. This place is the opposite of great, and I think I’m on the verge of a panic attack, which I’d like to avoid while RJ is here. So I fake enthusiasm, hoping I can trick my brain into believing it’s true until he’s gone. I clear my throat. “I love it! It’s perfect.”

RJ adjusts his ball cap and squeezes the back of his neck. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay here?”

“It’ll be great!” I pull the curtains open to let in some sunshine and release a cloud of musty dust. This time I cough for a full thirty seconds before I can speak. “It just needs a little fresh air and a good dusting!” I’m much more careful when I open the curtains over the sliding door. The glass is covered in a layer of grime, but the view beyond that is incredible. Trees dot the front yard, framing the lake and the islands beyond, the bright-blue sky reflected in the water.

I turn the lock, lift the security bar, and slide the door open. Or I try to. It takes some serious effort, at least until RJ gives me a hand. A gust of cool air comes off the water, and I pull the lapels of my jacket together. I take a couple of steps onto the deck—which creaks—and almost fall through a hole. Thankfully, RJ is there to save me with his lightning-fast reflexes.

He grabs me by the waist, pulling me up against him. “I really don’t know about this place, Lainey.” He sets me back down inside the cabin, away from the danger.

“It’s fine. I’ll just call the rental people tomorrow and let them know the deck needs a couple of new boards.” Half a board is now missing, thanks to me. An animal scurries around under there. I’ve probably disrupted his home. On the plus side, this is going to be a great place to observe the wildlife. I pat RJ on the chest, noticing how solid it is, much like his arm. “I promise I’ll be fine.”

He chews on the inside of his lip and rubs the back of his neck, something he’s done a couple of times now. His expression tells me he doesn’t believe me, which riles me a little. He doesn’t even know me, and he’s making assumptions. Ones my parents would probably agree with and which are possibly accurate, but I’m determined to prove myself while I’m here.

I’m twenty-five years old. I can be independent without the world falling to pieces. I can handle living in a rustic cabin for six weeks on my own. “Honestly, RJ. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” I start unloading my groceries so I have something to do with my hands other than wring them.

“Okay. Well, if you’ve got a handle on things, I guess I’ll head to my place?” It’s more of a question than a statement.

I glance over my shoulder. “Thanks so much for all your help, and sorry about falling in your lap, and . . . the Cessna.” I cringe, wishing I’d left it at thanks.

“No problem, and it happens to the best of us. You mind if I take your number down?” He taps the old-school rotary phone. The number is stuck to the front with one of those adhesive labels.

“Sure. Go ahead.” I stuff my hands in my parka pockets. It’s not particularly warm in here, but I’m still hot for some reason.

He takes the number down and shoves the piece of paper in his hoodie pocket. As an afterthought he picks up the receiver.

“What’re you doing?”

“Making sure there’s a dial tone.” He sets it back in the cradle and rocks on his heels. “Okay. Well, I hope I’ll see you around.”

“Me too. I mean, yes.” I try not to be too enthusiastic about my nodding. “Thanks again for everything.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Lainey.”

I walk him to the door. He hesitates and takes a half step toward me. I decide I want to hug him, because he’s been nice. And also because he’s attractive, he smells good, and he’s warm like a big teddy bear.

“Thanks again.” I wrap my arms around his waist and let my whole body make contact with his.

“You’re welcome.” His arms circle me. For a second I worry that he really is a serial killer and I’ve just embraced my doom. But all he does is give me a squeeze before he releases me. His tongue peeks out and drags across his bottom lip, gaze fixed on my mouth.

I hope I don’t have something stuck in my teeth. And that he’s not thinking about me being sick on the plane. I rub my lips self-consciously, and his gaze lifts to mine again.