Dozens of questions popped into Paige’s head, but before she had time to process a single one of them, she heard him ending the call.
Abandoning her inquisitive instincts for the time being, she hurried back to the front door and, after waiting a beat, opened and closed it before making her way into the kitchen.
“The ferry was closed,” she said. Water still dripped from her hair. No doubt she’d left a puddle in the hallway. With any luck, he wouldn’t think much of it.
Amusement lit his eyes as he looked her up and down, lingering a little longer than necessary where her soggy sweater hugged her curves. If she was honest with herself, she would have admitted she wasn’t entirely displeased about that.
“So, you thought you’d come back here?” he asked.
She straightened in an attempt to muster what little pride she had left, but again, if she was really honest with herself, she would have admitted that wasn’t the only reason. “Well, it is paid in full.”
He stared at her, nonplussed. The bastard was actually going to make her ask. And just like that, his darkening stare lost its appeal. Okay, okay, not all of it, but still.
“I’m assuming you haven’t rented the room?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and for the first time, Paige noticed his lips. They were full and strong, and for a moment, she let herself imagine what they would feel like pressed against hers. Or maybe trailing down her neck, stopping to suck lightly on that spot just before her shoulder that never failed to make her knees go weak.
He cleared his throat, breaking the spell that had taken her out of his kitchen and into his bed. “As luck would have it, no.”
“Great.” Her cheeks felt hot again, but for an entirely different reason. Time to get the hell out of that kitchen. “I’ll be out of your way in no time. Man at the dock said day after tomorrow.”
Lucas laughed. “Guess you didn’t check the weather while you were out?”
“Oddly enough, no.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. “Was too busy actually experiencing the weather to bother checking an app.”
He moved a stack of bills to reveal a remote control. Paige tried not to gag as he wiped a bit of jelly off the edge before clicking on the television. A man was reporting from a beach in Wilmington. He was struggling to stand his ground against the raging winds, but his words came through loud and clear, and the news wasn’t good. According to him, the National Weather Service had upgraded the storm, with bridges and ferries expected to be closed for most of the week.
Lucas turned his attention back to Paige, and a shiver racked her body. Problem was, she wasn’t entirely sure if it had more to do with the temperature of her soaked skin or the intensity of his stare.
“Why don’t you put some dry clothes on,” he finally said. “And I’ll whip us up some dinner.” He yanked the freezer door open. “Pepperoni or sausage?”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“Sausage it is, then. Easier to pick off than pepperoni.”
Paige said nothing. Instead she made her way up the stairs to the first room on the right, which thankfully looked like the room she’d booked. More or less. The carved wooden four-poster bed faced a turret of windows, just as it had in the photographs, and the overstuffed chair in the corner sat waiting with a cozy throw draped over one arm. The carefully arranged toss pillows were conspicuously absent, as was the vase of fresh flowers, but there was no sign of food remnants on any of the furniture, so all in all she considered it a win.
With a thud, Paige collapsed on the bed. As she did, a clap of thunder shook the house, which was the perfect punctuation to the realization that slammed into her head as it hit the pillow. She’d come to the island to celebrate the joys of being single, and yet for the foreseeable future she was stuck in a house that looked like the set of Animal House with a grumpy man who looked like he’d just walked off the cover of Men’s Fitness.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, there was always frozen pizza.
Chapter 4
Lucas Croft liked his life exactly the way it was: simple and quiet. And if there was one surefire way to put an end to both of those, it was by having a woman in his home. He had his daughter and his sister, and that was all the estrogen he could handle. Because who needed a woman anyway? They nagged you to clean up your stuff, wanted the toilet seat put down, and expected the dishes to be done the same day the meal was cooked. No thanks.
And yet there he was, cleaning the dishes from the previous night’s dinner. Granted, it wasn’t technically the same day the meal was cooked, but it was within a twelve-hour window, which was bad enough. Reason number two hundred and twelve why playing host to the city lady was a terrible idea. Problem was, there were a few thousand reasons why it was a necessity, and they were all preceded by dollar signs.
He put the pizza pan in the rack to drain, and as he did, a satisfied grin crept over his face. At least he’d won the battle of the toilet seat. He’d just climbed into bed the night before when he’d heard her go into the hall bathroom. Moments later came the unmistakable cursing of a woman who’d just splashed into the bowl. Even now, the thought had him chuckling. It was her own damn fault, really. Why did women always assume the seat would be down? Maybe the default was up and they were being inconsiderate for always lowering it. Had they ever thought of that? Maybe it was his civic duty to men everywhere to start a new norm, leaving seats up all over town until the idea caught on. Then again, if he succeeded, a pain in the ass like his sister would probably organize some sort of protest march. He could only imagine the posters she’d have stapled to yardsticks. Hell, she’d probably knit some obnoxious toilet-seat hats for everyone to wear.
His phone vibrated against the kitchen counter, and he glanced at the screen. Speak of the devil. Lucas wiped his hands on a dish towel, then slung it over his shoulder. “Hey, Smalls.”
“You know I hate that name,” Sophie said after filling his ear with an exaggerated groan.
“And you know I hate it when you go behind my back.” He paused to concede one small but significant point. “Even if it was because you were trying to save my ass.”
“What’s the penance?”
“Penance?” He couldn’t help but smile. “Where did that come from?”
“What can I say? Some habits are hard to break.”
“Twelve years of Catholic school, and the notion of penance is the only thing that stuck, huh?”
She made a sound that was more snort than laugh. “Well, that and the whole ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”
“Sister Hildegarde would be so proud.” He would have said his parents would have been proud, but bringing them up with Sophie was a bit of emotional roulette. It had been seven years since the accident, but sometimes she still had a hard time talking about them without tearing up. He had enough on his plate at the moment without wading into those uncertain waters. Luckily, his sister didn’t miss a beat.