But there wasn’t, and it faded quickly into a long groan when he took the dried meat from my grasp.
“Look, Winna,” he began, examining the sticker on the package. “I came to Michigan to get away from the world—from people—and especially from women.”
Get away from women. I bit into my cheek to keep my expression stable. It made sense.
There were only two reasons someone came to Michigan for the winter—to hunt something or to run from something. And Ryan Finan was definitely not a hunter.
“Thank you for the beer and jerky, but I don’t need to be checked on or apologized to.” He tucked the packaged under his arm and crossed them over his chest.
“Of course.” I nodded, catching myself staring at his naked chest again. “I—”
“If it makes you feel better”—and got me to leave him alone—“the scotch will help me forget yesterday—hell, even today—ever happened.”
“Right.” I swallowed over the lump in my throat, catching all the different flecks of green in his eyes.
“So, you can go back to your life, and I’ll go back to my peace.” It was a demand thinly veiled as a suggestion.
He shifted his weight and the towel, giving ever so slightly around his trim waist, caught on the V of his hips. A gust of cold wind blew from behind me, and I guiltily observed the way his stomach tightened from the chill.
“Abs…olutely.” You have issues, Winna.
His eyes flared and he gave me a curt nod, stepping back into the cabin to shut the door. “Thanks.”
I slammed my palm on the door before he could shut it.
“Oh! I’m sorry.” I grimaced. “I mean, I just wanted to let you know, they’re calling for snow in a few days. So, if you need food… or anything… I’d go to Hurd’s either today or tomorrow.”
His jaw clenched. “My SUV can handle the snow.” The reserved patience that bordered on kindness he’d shown me was wearing thin.
“Umm… well, maybe don’t risk it.” His eyes narrowed, so I went on quickly before that patience completely wore out. “I’ll chop more firewood and leave it on the side of the cabin,” I added, noticing there were no spare logs except for what was already in the fireplace. “If you need anything else—”
“Thank you, but I won’t,” he broke in tightly. “Goodbye, Winna.”
For the second time in just as many days, he closed the cabin door in my face, and I didn’t blame him.
She’d gotten more covert in her attempts at kindness, I’d give her that.
After the towel incident—my interactions with my intriguing neighbor always seemed to be categorized as incidents—she hadn’t shown up at my door in days, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t felt her presence.
The following day, I’d been drawn from my scotch-induced deep and dreamless sleep by loud, resounding thwacks. At first, I thought the cabin was under attack. But no. The wild woman was chopping wood. With an ax. It took several long seconds and quite a few blinks before I believed the sight in front of me.
I remembered her saying something about firewood, but I figured she was just going to buy it from the hardware store—the one that sold any and everything under the sun. I didn’t realize she actually meant to chop me some. A dangerous activity for someone who was definitely a little clumsy. So, I passed that day in somewhat fearful anticipation of what parts of me might be in danger if she chose to show up with an ax at the door.
But she hadn’t and, as the sun set, I finally cracked open the front door to see the rack on the small porch filled with fresh logs she’d left there without a word.
Perfect, I’d thought, ignoring the inappropriate twinge of disappointment.
The following day brought more jerky to my door and the first dusting of fresh snow since I’d arrived.
Here, it was easy to fall into a routine when the only goal for the day was to avoid the world. And I accomplished avoidance with almost one-hundred-percent success except for the small invasions my neighbor managed to make without actually confronting me.
I made coffee to the sounds of her calling after her dog, Chewie—a husky she walked every morning. I read the biography of Alexander Hamilton I’d picked up at the airport with the sounds of the cracking fire in the background—a fire courtesy of her logging skills. Meals had no set time, I ate whenever it seemed prudent to put something else in my stomach besides more alcohol. And, once I was finished with the bottle of scotch I’d brought with me, I moved onto the beer paired with the jerky and tried not to think about the woman responsible for them both.
But today, I broke the safety of seclusion and turned on my cell phone, not that there was much service out here, but today was the announcement that my software company had been sold.
After seven years of building the business from scratch, from when I was the only one making websites for our clients, it had grown to a saleable asset that had made me set for life. The purchase agreement had been settled months ago, but I’d wanted all the details ironed out and a solid transition plan in place before we announced.
Forget a cabin in Michigan, I could’ve bought a private island in the Caribbean for what I’d made. But for some unknown reason, I’d chosen this place. For under a hundred dollars a night, I’d chosen a place so remote, I grew more convinced each day that it had no real address.
My cell came to life and I connected it to the hotspot I’d brought along just in case.
I ignored the rising number in the red bubble on my email app and went straight for Google to search for FinWeb, articles populating immediately from several news sources about the sale.
My thumb angled to tap on the top result when a notification from Instagram dropped down over it and I tapped on it by mistake, opening the photo instantly.
Andy Harrison. My business partner and fraternity brother from college.
Charismatic and charming, I’d brought him on as a partner at FinWeb five years ago to help me expand.
He was celebrating the sale of the company in Florida—where I was supposed to be. But that wasn’t what shocked me. It was the other familiar female face that blew a hole right through my chest.
Hailey. I stared at the photo, betrayal burning through my blood.
She was sitting on Andy’s lap, pressing a kiss to his cheek while he smiled like he owned the world—and her—with his arm around her, holding on to her ass. My fingers tensed—he’d always stared at her ass, even when she was my girlfriend.
They’d been a pair, liking similar food, similar trends, and wanting a similar lifestyle. A lifestyle I’d worked damn hard to give her.
While I cared about securing the simple things, working to make sure we’d never have to worry about them, they both cared more about the show. And the more I worked, the more Hailey drowned in her influencer lifestyle, distancing herself from me—from us—as she ‘influenced’ from all over the country.
I’d never been suspicious. Maybe because I’d been too busy. But after we’d broken up—right after the sale of FinWeb was secured—the rumors began to circulate.
I ignored them, but now, seeing this photo, I knew I shouldn’t have.
My girlfriend. My best friend and partner.