Was that want ad some sort of joke? If so, it might prove to be deadly.
“What sort of sick bastard—?”
“Hey, what’s all the shrieking about?” A male voice said from above me.
I craned my neck and locked gazes with a pair of brilliant blue eyes for the second time that day. “Robin Goodfellow?”
“In the flesh.” He smirked as though it was some sort of joke. He stood on a platform that jutted out from the trunk of the tree about thirty feet above my head and was leaning over the railing, peering down at me.
“Joey Whitmore, right? The woman who wants to change October 3rd, 1996. What are you doing here?”
Odd that he remembered the date. Then again, meeting me was probably the strangest part of his day. “My”–behemoth gas guzzler—“car died.”
“I recall.” The lines around his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You look cold. Hold on a sec, I’ll be right down.”
“Okay,” I said because really, what else was I going to say?
The sound of footsteps came from inside the tree. And then a door shaped like an upside-down acorn that I hadn’t even realized was there swung inward. He appeared, silhouetted by an amber glow. “Come on in.”
Something was unsettling about Robin Goodfellow. He seemed amused like there was a private joke and he was the only one in on it. Deep-seated instinct warned that I would be an idiot to trust him.
“Where’s your client from earlier? Is she here?” Maybe I wouldn’t be alone with him.
He shook his head and his golden locks tussled in the breeze. “Nah, she had some stuff to work out at her place.”
So much for that hope. “You said you were doing some work for her. Like, life-coaching work?”
A slow smile spread across his lips in a secretive grin. “In a manner of speaking.”
I swallowed. If I had known that he was the life coach, I wouldn’t have come. Good looking men unnerved me ever since high school….
I slammed the door on that train of thought.
But my situation was dire. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. Grammy knew I had Earl. Darcy would be looking for me for Margarita Monday. My mother might see my laptop was open and check to see what I had been looking at. They might piece my location together. With a dead cell phone, would they get the sheriff to track me before I froze into a human popsicle?
Then again, if Robin Goodfellow was some sort of weirdo serial killer that lived in a tree, they probably couldn’t help me before he started making his woman-skin suit out of my hide.
A gust of icy wind from the north cut through my clothes and made the decision for me.
Feeling like the dumb broad in every horror movie I had ever seen, I crossed the threshold into the handsome stranger’s treehouse.
As soon as the door shut, I felt immediately warmer. The cozy golden light spilled down from some unseen source. Before us sat a spiral staircase that seemed to be carved out of the tree itself. Like the inside of a lighthouse but made completely out of wood.
“Coffee? Tea?” Robin asked and turned toward the stairs.
“Anything hot.” After a moment’s hesitation, I followed him. In for a penny in for a pound.
He smirked at me over his shoulder as he trudged ever upward. “You know some males would make a lewd comment after a beautiful woman asked for anything hot.”
“Some guys would get kicked in the balls for aforementioned lewd comment.” I glared at him even as my heart pounded. Had he really called me beautiful?
No one ever had, except for my grandfather.
Robin laughed out loud. “Oh yes, I believe you’ll do nicely.”
All the hairs on my arms rose at that moment. “Do for what? The life coach assistant position?”
He didn’t answer, just held back a curtain that appeared to be formed from strands of twinkling lights and freshly fallen autumn leaves to reveal the room beyond.
And woah baby, what a room.
Everything was made from wood. A live oak table with matching chairs. The couch and counters. The open shelving in the kitchen held wooden plates and mugs. Even the mantlepiece over the stone fireplace. No sign of a fridge or a stove or dishwasher. Perhaps they were hidden behind the glorious cabinets.
I spun in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. “This is incredible. The detail work. It looks as though someone carved all of this out of the tree. And it was so well camouflaged.”
He shrugged. “It’s home. Go stand by the fire and warm up while I fetch your something hot.” He put a gentle hand on my back and urged me toward the massive fireplace. I jumped at the touch, startled at the heat that seemed to seep from him, through my clothes and into my skin.
Without any hesitation, I went, holding out my hands and soaking in the warmth and wondered about the house. Why had I never heard about the construction of this place? It seemed like something that the town would have been talking about for months, if not years. Every detail was flawless.
Still no sign of the light source. No television or tablet sat on the wood table. Another of those leaf and light curtains covered an opening on the far side of the room. His bedroom perhaps?
And you have no business thinking about his bedroom. I firmly told my lusty hormones.
“Here you go.” Robin handed me a wooden mug and gestured toward the chair that looked as though it had been dug out with a massive sweep gouge by a giant-sized whittler. “Have a seat. And let’s talk terms.”
I hadn’t heard a kettle whistle or the ding of a microwave. Yet the heat from the steaming mug seeped into my palms. I settled on the whittled chair, which was surprisingly comfortable for such a hard surface. It was almost as if it had been carved exactly for my body. “Terms for employment do you mean? I came because of the want-ad for the assistant to the life coach.”
Robin lowered himself onto the couch and raised both eyebrows. “And do you feel like you are in a position to help others because your life is going the way you want it to?”
I set the mug down on a low side table and straightened my shoulders. Stick to the truth. “Is my life perfect? No. But I get up every day and I try harder than I did the day before.”
“Do you though?” Those blue eyes seemed to sparkle like polished sapphires. “Do you embrace every moment?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. No lying. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”
He leaned forward his expression intent. “And what would you trade for the chance to redo it all?”
I frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
His fingers steepled together and he said, “I’m not looking for an assistant. The position is one of great opportunity.”
Was this the part where he asked for money? Figured, the whole beautiful compliment was just his way of buttering me up. “Look, I’m not doing one of those pyramid scheme things—”
He held up a hand, effectively cutting me off. “Nothing like that. What I need from you, Joey, is a favor. You make a commitment for one open-ended favor to me. Anything I require in the future within your ability to give it. And in return, I’ll grant you the chance to change your life.”
“Or my money back?” I raised a brow.
He waved it away. “No money will change hands in this bargain. I have no use for it.”