Before he stepped inside the house, he glanced toward the cabin that was hidden from view by tall pecan and oak trees. Yeah, it wasn’t so bad to come back home.
Chapter 5
Nikki didn’t like washing down a PB &J with water, but that’s all she had. What she wouldn’t give to have an ice-cold glass of milk.
At least her stomach wasn’t growling anymore. Not exactly five-star cuisine. This was definitely roughing it.
After brushing the crumbs off her hands, she went to her car and retrieved her suitcases from the trunk. She wanted to have most of her things inside before it got too dark.
A shiver of dread ran down her spine. Staying in the middle of nowhere by herself at night didn’t hold a bit of appeal. At least in the city, she knew what to expect. This country quiet was more than a little unnerving.
She carried her cases inside and set them down in front of the bedroom door. Hadn’t she left it open? Apparently not, or it would still be open. Her short laugh was supposed to reassure her, but it came off sounding a little cracked. There were no such things as ghosts. Cal had probably shut the door when he left and she hadn’t noticed.
But after she opened it, she stood there for a moment looking around before she picked up her cases and went inside. Of course the room was empty. Really, what had she expected? A ghost to jump out and scream, “Boo!”?
But it still didn’t stop the cold inside the room from washing over her-a damp, muggy feeling.
“I’m really losing it,” she muttered.
She carried the cases over to the bed and set them down, then sniffed.
What was that smell? She sniffed again. It smelled like apple pie. She closed her eyes and inhaled a little deeper. Nice. Just as quickly she opened them, realizing just how ridiculous she was being.
This was what happened when she didn’t take off time from work. The next time she spoke to Marge, Nikki was going to tell her she wanted a real vacation and she didn’t care what her parents thought. She was a big girl.
The bedroom didn’t look too bad. She’d removed the two sheets that had protected the mattress from dust. There was bedding in one of the boxes. It took her only a few minutes to make the antique iron bed. It looked comfortable, almost cozy.
Whatever she had to tell herself.
She glanced at her watch. Almost seven. The evening stretched before her. Boredom had never been a problem. She always had an invitation to go to a party or something. Friends, good wine, good food-her nights would stretch into the wee hours of the morning.
She glanced at her watch again. Three and a half minutes had passed.
So now what did she do? Unpack?
There was an armoire, and when she cautiously looked inside, she found hangers. No critters. But when she opened her suitcases, she realized she’d brought all the wrong clothes. She had two pair of slacks that would work, but she was afraid the dresses and her loungewear wouldn’t do at all. She certainly didn’t want to ruin the expensive clothes she’d worked hard to buy. Maybe the last town she’d driven through would have something more suitable.
She sat on the side of the bed, the energy suddenly draining from her. What was she doing out here? Really. Was she chasing after a story or a man-or something more? Sometimes she felt as though her life wasn’t complete. Which was crazy. She’d traveled all over the world; she had an exciting job; she dated, went to lots of parties.
It was because she was almost thirty. That had to be it. She was getting old.
Enough! She wasn’t getting old; her biological clock could tick all it wanted because she wasn’t keen on having kids or getting married anytime soon, if ever. She stood and quickly went back to unpacking.
Why the hell was she even thinking like this? Hormones? No, that was over last week. Allergies? Maybe she was allergic to all this country air. That had to be it. Once she was back in the city, she wouldn’t have time to be morose.
She closed the suitcases after unpacking what she thought she could use, then stuck them under the bed before wandering to the front porch. The rocker looked safe enough. She dusted it off, then gingerly sat in it and gave a gentle push with her foot. At least it didn’t collapse beneath her.
Silence.
No, there was another sound. The rumble of a pickup. She stayed where she was as the sound grew closer. Then the pickup came around the corner, headlights glaring at her.
Excitement made her heart beat faster, but she kept her seat. Outwardly, she knew she looked calm. She watched as the pickup came to a stop.
Cal.
He killed the engine and got out, then reached in the back. Her gaze moved south. She liked the way his jeans stretched taut over his backside.
Nice. Very nice.
He turned, grasping an ice chest by the end handles. “Your block of ice. I brought some perishables, too. They’re in the back.”
She had a feeling that meant she was supposed to carry them inside. His gallantry took her breath away.
Not that it made that much difference. Her parents had always taught her to carry her own weight. Even though they had plenty of money, she had her own chores when she was growing up. It didn’t bother her a bit to carry in the other box. She was not a frail female-well, unless there were wild critters around.
She grabbed the open box, glancing at the contents as she carried it inside the cabin. Butcher paper. Meat? Probably. Catsup, mustard, and mayo. No butter. No eggs. She frowned. Eggs would’ve been nice. Butter, too. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to cook an egg.
Cal was just putting the block of ice in the box when she walked inside the kitchen.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you in the morning.” He started back through the cabin.
“You’re leaving?” She set her box on the table. “Right now?”
He stopped on the porch and studied her. She could feel her nipples tightening as his gaze slowly caressed her.
“Was there something else you wanted?” he drawled.
Maybe it was the way he’d said the words, all soft and lazy. It made her think he would stay if he had the right incentive. But what else did she want?
Cal in her bed, that was what else she wanted, but she didn’t tell him that. He looked a little too smug. She wasn’t sure what his game was, but she wasn’t playing, at least not this time.
“Is it always this quiet?” she asked instead.
“Quiet?”
She thought for a moment he’d leave, but instead, he half sat on the wooden rail that ran the length of the porch. “It’s not quiet at all. Listen.”
She did but still didn’t hear anything. She shook her head. “What am I listening for?”
“A sparrow is angry. Another bird is probably trying to steal her nest. Can you hear her?”
She cocked her head to the side. The bird was raising a big fuss. “Yes, I can.” Strange that she hadn’t heard any birds earlier. “She does sound put out, doesn’t she?”
“And look over there in that pile of leaves and sticks. There’s a squirrel foraging for nuts.”
She followed where he pointed and stared for a few minutes. It was getting dark enough that she could barely see. But sure enough, a squirrel popped its head up.
“The chickens have already bedded down for the night,” he told her. “But you’ll see and hear them in the morning when you gather the eggs.”
“Gather the eggs?”
“They have nesting boxes. It’s not that hard. You just reach beneath them and take the eggs.”
Eggs didn’t sound nearly as good as she had thought they would. “Don’t they bite…or something?”
He grinned as though she’d said something funny. How the hell was she supposed to know what chickens did?
“They might peck, but most of them don’t mind if you get their eggs.”