Page 38 of Wrecked By the Vice President
I take a deep breath of the pine-scented air.
"Well, Bumble," I whisper to the empty yard. "Looks like we’re staying."
I walk back to the car to get my suitcase, my hands trembling. As I pop the trunk, I glance toward the garage. The darkness inside seems to stare back.
I grab my bag, the wheels crunching on the gravel. I haul it up the steps and cross the threshold.
The inside of the cabin is warm. A massive stone fireplace dominates the living room, and a fire crackles in the grate. Large furniture of worn dark leather decorate the space. My senses are assaulted by the smell of woodsmoke and him.
Shane is in the kitchen—an open-plan space separated by a prominent island. He’s washing his hands at the sink, the water running over his forearms. He’s still shirtless.
Maddie sits at the island, swinging her legs. She looks at me.
"Are you gonna make grilled cheese?" she asks, eyes wide with hope. "Dad burns it."
Shane shuts off the water and turns around, drying his hands on a rag. He leans his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over that massive chest. He watches me. He doesn't help me with my bag. He just watches, marking me. Claiming the space, and by extension, me.
"I can make grilled cheese," I say, my voice sounding steadier than I feel. I leave my bag by the door and walk further into the room.
"Good," Shane says. "Kitchen's yours. Guest room is up the stairs, second door on the left. Stay out of the master."
"Right," I say. "Stay out of your room."
He gives me a dark look. "For your own good, sweetheart. Keep the door locked at night."
"Why?" I ask before I can stop myself. "Are there bears?"
His lips twitch. It’s almost a smile, but it’s too predatory to be friendly. "Something like that."
He pushes off the counter and walks past me toward the stairs. As he passes, the air shifts, pulling in his wake. He pauses right next to me, his shoulder brushing mine. The heat is suffocating.
Welcome to Hell, Bianca. You’re under my roof now, which means you belong to me. Don't forget it when you're locking that door tonight."
Then he’s gone, his heavy boots thudding up the wooden stairs.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and grip the edge of the granite island for support. My legs feel like jelly.
"He's grumpy," Maddie says matter-of-factly, pulling me out of my stupor. She points to the fridge. "Cheese is in there."
I look at the little girl, then up at the ceiling where I can hear Shane moving around heavily.
"Yeah," I murmur, opening the fridge to hide my flushed face. "He definitely is."
But as I reach for the cheddar, my hands are still tingling from where he brushed against me. And deep down, in the part ofmy brain that controls survival and desire, I know one thing for certain.
I’m not leaving this mountain. Not until I figure out what lies beneath those scars. And not until I find out what it feels like to be broken by him.
