Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“I’m Fallon Joy, a journalist for a magazine based in Seattle. I’m writing a center page article about this town and rented this place for two weeks while I’m here.” She grabs her phone, then shows me the itinerary along with photos of the outside of my house. That smirk, paired with her confidence, tells me she believes she’s proved her point.
I meet her gaze. “Well, Fallon Joy…” I repeat her name and chuckle at the irony.
“What’s funny?”
“The fact that your last name is Joy, and you seem anything but joyful.”
Her lips purse into a line so tight, it looks painful.
“Anyway, I’m Levi White, and my family has owned this property well before either of us was alive. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but—”
“Why did you put this cabin on a vacation rental site if you weren’t going to vacate?”
“I didn’t. I’ve never rented it out.”
“So this listing isn’t your cabin?”
“It is, but I didn’t list it.”
“Is this some kind of scam? You take all my money, then kick me out as soon as I get here?”
Her accusatory tone annoys me even more.
“Look up White’s Christmas Tree Farm, and you’ll see I’m not lying. Go ahead. I’ll wait,” I taunt, crossing my arms over my broad chest.
“Well, Levi,” she mimics my tone, spitting out my name like it’s poison. “My assistant booked this reservation, and I’ve already seen the charge on my card. There must’ve been some sort of miscommunication with the website,” she continues to run her mouth.
“Please tell me you’re not that naïve. You were scammed. Someone put my cabin up on that website, stole your money, and left us to figure it out.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Go to the listing now and see if it’s still there. A hundred bucks it’s gone now.”
She furiously types on her phone. When the color drains from her face and her nostrils flare, I’m convinced she might self-destruct. I’ve never seen someone get worked up so quickly. But I try to give her the benefit of the doubt because I’m sure this is stressful for her, too.
“Motherfucker,” she mutters, inhaling a deep breath as if she’s contemplating throwing her phone out the window.
“I’m sorry someone took advantage, but you can see I’m telling the truth. This happens in touristy towns sometimes.”
She gives me an unamused death glare. “Great. I’ll just grab my things and leave. I’m sure I can find another place.”
“Actually, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. It’s a full-on blizzard out there, and the road conditions are probably bad in this whiteout. You can sleep in my guest bedroom tonight. There’s a bathroom down the hall you can use, too. We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”
“Fine.”
She slams her laptop shut, picks up her phone and weapons, and snatches the handle to her suitcase. Without saying another word, she storms off. Seconds later, a door slams shut, and I think she locks it.
Shaking my head, I call Dasher up to give him a quick bath. As I scrub soap over his back and belly, I think about the crazy events that just happened and wonder how the hell I’m going to navigate having a stranger in my house.
When I woke up this morning, the last thing I expected to find was a beautiful woman in my bed who thought I was there to kill her.
Who knows, with her salty attitude, I just might want to before she leaves.
CHAPTER THREE
FALLON
DAY 2
I wake from a dreamless sleep without an alarm. I’m not a morning person by any means—I actually hate mornings—but I’m an early riser. I swear my internal clock is synced with the sun no matter where I am in the world.
Once I slide out of bed, I open the curtain to see everything is covered with a blanket of white. If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have none.
After I go through my morning routine and get dressed, I check my phone to see if Peggy responded to the strongly worded email I sent last night.
It sends me into a tailspin of rage when I realize she didn't. I’m tired of her making mistakes like this, especially ones that put me in a dangerous situation. Because of her, I’m now in an uncomfortable position with a strange man.
With my phone tightly in my grip, I go downstairs and call Peggy. I don’t care about the time difference. Not when she’s responsible for the predicament I’m in.
“Peggy,” I bark out when she finally picks up.
“You realize it’s four in the morning, right?”
“I don’t give a shit. Did you read my email?”
“Um…no.” I hear scrambling as if she’s reaching for her computer.
I groan and explain what happened. After she makes a few excuses and tries to get out of this being her fault, I interrupt her.
“I went to the website myself. It was obvious that it was a phishing site. Half the page was filled with ads and porn pop-ups. And now, I’m stuck staying at a strange man’s house in the middle of a snowstorm. Not to mention, my card has to be canceled. When I checked the statement last night, it contained several charges I didn’t make.”