Chapter 3

Zander

Friday 8.38pm

I wake, half-convinced I’m dreaming. I’m sure I can smell pot roast or steak. I ease up, mouth dry and head still spinning.

I push the covers off my body, groaning with the movement as I orient myself with my surroundings.

I swing my legs over, cursing as pain shoots through my ribs. Lured by the smell of food, and the need for water, I place my feet on the floor.

A flashlight has been left on just inside the bedroom door providing enough light for me to see by, but not bright enough to hurt my head any more than it already is.

A robe is just visible, so I carefully drape it over my shoulders and tie the knot in place.

I’m out of breath and need to sit down again when I reach the living room. She’s lit dozens of scented candles, and a wine bottle and empty wrappers are scattered over the coffee table.

I follow the scent of food and find a bowl of something she must have cooked cooling on the countertop.

I’m too hungry for manners, so I don’t bother to look for her before I lean on the counter, grab the spoon and start to shovel it down.

My stomach growls angrily as I demolish the food in front of me. When the bowl is scraped clean and I’ve near inhaled it, I stumble into the kitchen, looking for water to wash it down.

I don’t bother looking for a glass, just run the water, shove my face under the faucet, and guzzle.

I swipe my mouth, feeling less drowsy, and a little better when I hear her behind me.

I spin around and find her staring, wide-eyed, hair piled on her head, wearing a robe to match mine and a glass of wine in her hand.

She swallows and I’m sure I catch a slight sway when she steps closer and purses her lips. “Glad to see you’re feeling better. I was about to wake you up.”

I nod slowly, eyes on the wine in her hand. “Making yourself at home I see.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah, well. Mark says I’m stuck here till Sunday, I figured I may as well make the most of it.”

Panic flares to life. She talked to someone. And she’s here all weekend. “Did you tell him I was here?”

Mia takes a large gulp of her wine, eyes narrowed as though she’s not sure how to answer.

I take a step closer and keep my voice level. “Did you tell him about me?”

My heart rate spikes as she just stares at me. Finally, when I think I’ll need to move on, she shakes her head. “I didn’t have time to. He was too busy insulting me before my battery died.”

Relief shudders through me stealing anything I can say in response. My shoulders slump as the energy the food gave me seems to spill out.

I need more sleep. She’s not going anywhere. That’s all I needed to know.

I move to leave but she shifts her weight like she’s going to stop me. “Um, this is weird. I mean, you don’t look great…maybe I should be keeping a closer eye on you?”

I raise an eyebrow and lean against the counter to take some of the weight off my feet. “That’s not necessary.”

She frowns and her brow knits together. “Are you sure? I mean, can I get you anything?”

My lip twitches into a lazy smile. She’s worried about me. Genuinely worried. When was the last time someone gave a shit about my wellbeing?

“I’ll be fine. I just need to sleep.”

It’s a blatant lie, but she doesn’t press me, just nods as I start to shuffle off.

A yawn escapes as I pad slowly, pain throbbing in my rib cage as I head back to the bedroom.

As an afterthought, I turn back and give her as much of a smile as I can muster. “But thanks.”

A tentative smile grows on her face. “Go to sleep. I’ll be heading to bed myself soon.”

I look over her shoulder at the front door I smashed. “You locked it?”

She nods and releases a sigh. “I did. And I swept up the glass. Maybe tomorrow when you’re feeling better you can tell me what’s going on.”

I can’t answer. So I don’t.

I don’t expect her to follow, so I’m surprised when she puts her wine glass on the counter beside me. “Pretty sure I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom. I’ll go get it.”

My jaw slackens slightly as she sweeps past me into the hallway. I follow in her footsteps, but detour at the bedroom and drag my legs towards the bed.

I collapse into it, smothering yawns that make my ribs ache even more. My eyes are flickering shut when she returns.

Illuminated by the flashlight, she settles in beside me, and rummages around in the small kit until she produces a bottle of pills. “These should help.”

I’m still perplexed by her willingness to assist me when I see she’d even left me her water bottle.

She lays the packet of pills on the cabinet and carefully rises from the bed like she’s worried about disturbing me.

“I’ll let you sleep,” she says.

With a final look at me, she leaves me wondering why she’s being so nice.

I can’t recall the last time I was around a woman this sweet. Not to mention sincere.

Under any other circumstance, I’d be lapping it up and actively encouraging her, maybe even milking it a little to get close to her.

But I can’t afford to get close to her. Even if I want to.

All I need to do is find some clothes and get my strength back.

Despite aching all over, despite the threat of discovery, I relax into the soft mattress, pull the covers up and enjoy a brief respite.

Whatever happens, finding this lake house, even with her inside along with me, is the opportunity I needed.

A few days. I have a few days to figure out whether I can really go back.

***

Mia

Saturday 6.54am

Sunlight creeps through the gap in the drapes as I slowly open my eyes and groan aloud.

I barely slept despite the comfy bed. I was worried about Zander, and after checking on him three times because I thought he was calling my name, I realized he was only talking in his sleep.

I try to go back to sleep, but I’m starving and my mouth feels like I’ve been snacking on cotton wool, so I gingerly pull myself out from under the covers.

I slept in my t-shirt and panties, so I wrap myself in the robe before closing the door.

Yawning and stretching, I stagger into the bathroom, lustfully looking at the tub as I pull the door closed and lock the door.

Since there are toothbrushes and toothpaste for guests, I clean my teeth and contemplate taking a cold shower.

I frown at my reflection in the mirror as I wash my face. My hair is hanging limp and is still carrying the remnants of the gunk put in my hair.

I need a shower. A long hot one.

I rinse out my mouth and scowl at myself. I’m certain there are power lines on the roof. So, there must be a way to switch the electricity back on? Maybe I just missed the box last night?

Zander must still be asleep and I don’t see the point of disturbing him, so I head into the kitchen.

I’m mid-yawn and opening the drapes when I hear him behind me. I spin on my heel and am pleased to see he’s moving freer.

His face has more color and he seems to be breathing easier. He even manages a tight smile as he pulls his robe tighter and steps inside the kitchen.

He checks the fridge and leans against it as he looks at me. “No power?”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t find the breaker box. It might be outside…”

He nods and looks around the kitchen. “I’ll go look.”

His eyes find mine, and he stares at me so intently, my heart starts to thump unevenly in my chest.

I open my mouth to ask him a question but he stalks off without giving me the opportunity.

With a sigh, I open the pantry and find granola, heat-treated milk and canned fruit. No longer caring about my reputation or whether I’ll work for Mark again, I open everything and find two bowls and two spoons.

There’s a French Press and expensive coffee so I get that out too. I dish everything up, feeling ridiculous, and awkward as a subtle hum starts to come from the refrigerator.

When he strolls back into the room, his eyes immediately find mine again as I put a saucepan of water on the stove to boil.

His voice comes out husky. “So, this Mark, he’s your boss?”

I snort a laugh and shake my head. “No. Not really. I’m an actress.”

He takes a seat and reaches for the bowl of food. He starts to scarf it down without a thank you, eyes still on me as he chews. “What were you filming? A slasher film?”

I'm ready to protest it was a zombie movie when I suddenly realize what he’s saying. My voice comes out as a squeak. “You were watching?”

A smile creeps over his face as he finishes the bowl and pushes it away. “Listening more like. Heard screaming from the other side of the lake.”

I’m so gobsmacked by this sudden disclosure that I can’t say anything. Was he watching me? Waiting for everyone to leave? Or did he know I was alone?

I back up a little. Hands trembling as I start to consider what that might mean.

I try to keep my voice light as if I’m not as bothered as I am. “Since we’re stuck here together, maybe you could, I dunno, tell me you aren’t...a homicidal maniac.”

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me with an intensity that makes my skin rise.

My lungs don’t seem to be cooperating and the rattle of a pot lid gives me a reason to break his unrelenting stare.

I take the water off the heat and turn back. He’s squinting at me, an undecipherable expression on his battered face.

He’s strong enough even injured to overpower me. I smile uneasily as I take a seat beside him. “Wow, okay. That was a joke.”

To distract myself from how close I’m sitting to him, I start to eat my own food, ignoring the way heat is rushing over my skin at his failure to reassure me.

I wait until we’ve both finished eating and I’m putting my bowl in the dishwasher before I even think about asking him once again to tell me how he ended up in the lake.

I keep my eyes ahead as I try to figure out the French Press. I’ve only ever used one a couple times. And I can’t for the life of me remember how.

I mutter under my breath wondering how to make a coffee when I feel the air shift beside me and find him standing right next to me.

His frown deepens as he grabs the French Press and shakes his head. “Nowhere near enough coffee.”

He almost shoulders me out of the way, and I shift, irritated until he adds a few more scoops of coffee then pours the water in.

A lazy smile grows as he pushes the plunger down, eyes finding mine again. “The trick is to be firm and to take it nice and slow.”

I don’t know why, but my stomach drops to my toes. Heat burns at my cheeks as he pours coffee into the two cups I got out.

My lips twitch into a half-smile. “Are you going to tell me what happened to you or do I have to guess?”

His expression switches to icy. “Let’s just get through this weekend. I’ll stay out of your way until Sunday.”

He turns as though ready to leave. Strangely I don’t want him to, so I shrug. “Sure. But it might make it easier on us both if you relax a little. I’m already in trouble for staying here, I’m not about to tell Mark I found a strange man and invited him to stay too.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowed as if he doesn’t quite believe me. “I guess not.”

I exhale slowly, making sure I look him the eye. I’m not even sure why I’m trying to set him at ease but whatever he’s been through, it’s not been pleasant.

“It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we enjoy it?”

He shifts his weight to one foot and keeps sipping his coffee. His eyes never leave my face, but I’m highly aware his gaze has traveled to my lips. “What did you have in mind?”

Tension is growing between us. Thick, raw and I’m not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Now acutely aware I’m practically naked and standing talking to a stranger like we’re old friends, I put my coffee down.

I say the first thing that comes to mind, even though I haven’t a clue how. “Fishing?”

The tiniest of smiles tugs his lip upwards. “Not sure if homicidal maniacs fish.”

It’s such an unexpected reply, one that gives me a tiny amount of reassurance he’s not a complete psycho, that a choked laugh escapes. “No?”

He downs the rest of his coffee and gives me a wry smile. “Especially not naked.”

I smile at him. “I didn’t know there was a dress code for fishing?”

He tilts his head, eyes running the length of me, making his interest crystal clear. “You sure there weren’t any clothes around?”

I nod, breath stilling as he licks his bottom lip. “Um, no. I mean, it was dark, but I couldn’t find anything.”

His eyebrow lifts. “You check the shed? There might be gear for tramping, wetsuits that sort of thing.”

I hastily shake my head, wishing I’d thought of that sooner.

Zander doesn’t seem annoyed as he places his empty cup on the counter and starts walking in the direction of the front door.

I watch his back until he’s disappeared outside again. I release the breath I was holding, feeling flustered and half-way hoping he doesn’t find any clothes to wear.

There are plenty of things I can think of to do around here. And I’m slightly shocked that I’m thinking about the ones that don’t require us to be dressed.

***

Zander

Fishing. She wants to go fishing. Like this is some camping trip, and we’re a couple.

The shed isn’t locked which surprises me. Then again, if it’s a private luxury lake house for hire like I think it is, people would drop by and need to find the key.

The shed is stocked with two kayaks, firewood, fishing rods, and what looks like day packs for tramping.

Any hope I had to find something to wear disappears as I find nothing useful inside the packs but a wet weather poncho and wetsuits hanging from the rafters.

I curse into the shed and run a hand over my face. A wetsuit isn’t exactly what I’d hoped was in here.

But idiotic robes are even less useful to me. I still don’t have boots, or anything that can get me from the lake house into the nearest town.

It was a risk coming all this way. And now I have nothing to show for it, and no better option for clothing.

I sit on a chunk of firewood and scowl at the kayaks. There’s nothing here. I risked my neck for shit.

Mia can’t help. Her clothes are distinctly feminine and five times too small.

Since I’ll draw even more attention wandering through the woods dressed in a damn wetsuit I have limited choices.

I huff out a breath and curse myself for not thinking this through. I’d pinned everything on finding shelter and something to wear.

I didn’t anticipate Mia would have missed her ride and be stuck here with me. If I wasn’t so completely fucked right now, maybe I’d be enjoying the idea of spending the weekend with her more.

She’s sweet, kind, incredibly pretty and aside from working in an industry I loathe everything about, seems genuine.

I nearly slap myself. Of course she seems genuine. She’s a professional liar. I don’t know if she’s any good. She could be lousy for all I know.

If she isn’t, she could be lying about when Mark is returning. Which, if I play it right, might work to my advantage.

But right now, I’m vulnerable. And wearing next to nothing is only going to compound things.

I’m out of logical reasonable options. Time to do the illogical and completely unreasonable.

Something I have way too much experience with.