Her stomach wobbled uneasily. The tension between them was uncomfortable, and when she’d begged the favor, she sure hadn’t anticipated spending an entire night stuck in the mountains with him.
Her stomach gave a rumble, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since one, but the sound of it was covered by the deluge of rain.
“The storm’s not letting up,” Luke said.
“At this rate we might be here all night.”
“Maybe we should get settled.” He looked over at her. “I found a little cabin in the woods.”
She perked up. A crackling fire. Food. Bed. People. “And you’re just now mentioning this? Was anyone home?”
“Um, no, it’s empty. But there’s a key on the door ledge. Under the circumstances, I think we should help ourselves.”
If someone was stupid enough to leave a key, she wasn’t going to argue. At least she wouldn’t be trapped in the car all night with Luke Fletcher.
“Maybe there’s even a phone,” she said. “Or Wi-Fi.”
He started to say something, then, as if thinking better of it, he closed his mouth.
Whatever. Allie stood, pocketing her phone, visions of a crackling fire dancing in her head. “What are we waiting for? Let’s grab our stuff and go.”
At the edge of the woods, Allie stopped abruptly, her duffel bag thunking against her leg. The structure, perched on a mound of overgrown grass, was roughly the size of a shoebox. Its raw timber walls were crudely cut, and a piece of wavy tin stretched over the top. The wonder wasn’t that someone had left such easy access to a key, but that they’d bothered to lock the door at all.
She shook her head. “This is the ‘cabin’ you found?”
He lifted a shoulder that was loaded down with his backpack and sleeping bag. His other hand held Walter’s leash. “Better than the car.”
“Debatable,” she muttered, then hurried to catch up. “For the record, this is not a cabin—it’s a shack.”
“It’s a hunting cabin.”
A hunting shack. There would definitely be no call to her parents tonight. No roaring fire—and that was a real shame because it was a little chilly in the mountains, and now she was wet.
At the door Luke reached for the key, then twisted it in the lock.
“What if someone comes and catches us trespassing?”
The door squeaked as it swung open, and he edged inside, brushing at spiderwebs. “No one’s been here in a long time.”
She crept in behind him, scanning the room. He was probably right. Spiderwebs hung from the rafters in abundance. The cement floor was cleanish. A wooden bed—the kind you saw at summer camp—dominated the room. An upturned crate served as a nightstand. A broom made of—straw?—was propped in the corner. A hole in the far wall was, maybe, a fireplace. At least dry kindling was piled in the grate. She would have that fire after all.
Her tomboy years were in her distant past. These days she traveled with her own pillow, and her idea of camping involved at least electricity and plumbing—speaking of which . . . She glanced around. Nope. No bathroom.
Maybe it would stop raining soon.
Luke set his things on the dirty mattress. Well, she assumed it was dirty. It was hard to tell when there was only one small window. Walter sniffed a corner and deemed it appropriate for a nap.
“Well, at least we’ll be dry,” Luke said.
She cautiously made her way to the fireplace and spotted a book of matches on the ledge. A fire would offer light, and she could hang her clothes to dry.
There you go. Look on the bright side. Find the silver lining. She’d get through this long night somehow and before she knew it, she’d be pulling into her grandparents’ drive with a freshly washed Chevy, preening under their beaming gazes. Olivia who?
Her gaze drifted to the bed—the very small bed—then connected with Luke’s.
“You can have the bed. I’ll take the floor. Or I can sleep in the car if you’d rather.”
Tempting, the idea of him squished up in the back seat with Walter. But lock or no, she didn’t relish the idea of being alone out in the middle of nowhere. Besides, the cold cement floor was punishment enough.
“The floor is fine,” she said stiffly.
While he unrolled the sleeping bag, she turned to the kindling. A little fire would cheer this place right up. The match lit on the first strike, and she lowered it to the sticks and dried leaves. The bundle quickly caught fire.
“Nice of someone to leave us dry kindling.”
“Allie, that’s not kindling, it’s a—”
A large creature emerged from the sticks, hissing.
Allie jumped, backpedaling to keep from falling. Someone screamed. Maybe her.
The animal jumped from the kindling—er, nest—snarling at her.
“A raccoon! It’s a raccoon!” Allie jumped onto the bed, eyes glued to the masked creature as it bared its teeth at her. Whoa, those were some pointy fangs. “There’s a raccoon in here!”
“I heard you the first time.” Luke scrambled to the corner and wielded the broom. He swatted at the animal, who turned and hissed at him, striped tail swishing. Luke was only making the thing mad with those swats.
“Get it! What if it has rabies?” She looked to Walter for help, but he hadn’t even made it to his feet yet. She scowled at him.
“Open the door,” Luke said.
The door. It was too far away from the bed. She’d have to get down—and get closer to the snarling creature. Kind of seemed like a bad idea.
“Allie, get the door!”
“I am!” Okay, she wasn’t, but she was working up to it. She eased to the end of the bed, eyeing the doorknob. Two steps away—three at most.
“Sometime today, Speedy.”
Allie jumped down, took the steps, and threw open the door. The movement caught the raccoon’s attention. It hissed at her, then gave chase. It was right on her heels! Allie screeched as she hopped back onto the bed.
Then Luke was there, between her and the animal with the broom, sweeping it away from her.
“Get it, Luke,” she called. “Get it out! Get it out!”
The creature swatted at the broom with its little paws, snarling at Luke, baring its tiny fangs. To think she’d once thought raccoons cute and cuddly.
He finally had the critter cornered. With a quick sweep of the broom he pushed it outside and slammed the door shut.
Allie was glued to the wall as far from the door as she could get. She pressed a hand to her thudding heart. Adrenaline surged through her bloodstream. Had that really just happened?
Luke’s gaze met hers. His eyes were wide, his shoulders heaving. The expression on his face . . . probably looked just like the one on hers.
She recalled the way Luke had wielded that broom, like a knight wielding a sword, his feet dancing, parrying with a—raccoon.
Allie burst out laughing. A smile cracked his face. And then he was laughing too.
“Oh my gosh,” she squeezed out. “The sight of you!”
“Me?” he wheezed between guffaws. “You jumped on that bed like it was home base. You do know raccoons climb trees, right?”
“Did you see the way it came after me?”
“Well, you did light its house on fire, so . . .”