Wildfire (Maple Hills, #2)(61)
Nothing good can come from me heading over to see him—and yet the idea sticks. He can’t make the storm stop and I can’t get go into his cabin, so there’s no point me venturing out in the dark.
Knowing my luck, I’ll step outside and get struck by lightning.
I’m arguing with myself for the fourth time, when there’s a knock on the door. What are the chances that Russ has been having the same argument with himself? When he finally closes those final few inches and kisses me?
Pulling back the door, I realize the answer to that question is zero.
Zero chance.
“Wow, you two are messy,” Jenna complains, poking her head through the doorway. She looks at the clothes on the floor and frowns. “How do you guys move around in here?”
“Can I help you, Ms. Murphy?” I grumble, not even attempting to hide my disappointment that she isn’t a six-foot five hockey player with pretty blue eyes and a tendency to blush.
“Wow, she’s grumpy today. Still not over the storm thing, I see.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a flashlight. “In case the power goes out.”
The power might go out. Fantastic. “Remind me, why did I choose working for you over hanging out on a yacht or something equally douchey, but cool?”
“Because you love me,” she says proudly. “And sure, yachts are cool, but you ever had to deal with so much rainwater everywhere floods? You can’t get experiences like that in Dubai.”
“Living the dream, Jen.”
“You know it,” she grins. “Okay, you’re my last delivery. I’m going to bed because I don’t have to work tonight and this weather fucking sucks. Don’t stress, okay? It’ll be over by morning.”
When has telling someone not to stress ever helped them not stress? Climbing back into bed, I try again with the book before giving up after five minutes. For the first time in my life, I’m not feeling romance books.
As someone who’s perpetually single, I think it’s probably more shocking that I like them to begin with. It’s a bit of a conundrum now I think about it, how I have such faith in fictional happy endings, but have never considered what my own might look like.
Another knock comes. Pulling back the door again, I find Orla on my doorstep. Now I definitely know the universe is fucking with me. I mentally recap everything I’ve done since I got here that could have landed me on Orla’s radar, but nothing stands out. I’ve only been slutty in my head, not in real life, and she can’t read my thoughts, so she has no idea I’m desperately pining after first base like an absolute loser.
“Hi, sweetie. I think I’m in the wrong place.” She pulls out her cellphone to check her messages. “There’s apparently a leaking roof and I need to take a picture for the repair records. I swear there are no perks to being an old lady these days. Getting sent out in the rain and all kinds of nonsense.”
She hands me the phone while she takes off her glasses, cleaning the fog and water with the collar of the jacket beneath her raincoat. “This says twenty-seven not twenty-two. Twenty-seven is next to the main lawn. I think it’s opposite the Hedgehog cabin.”
Orla tightens her hood around her face, accepting her cellphone back and putting it into her pocket. “Thank you, sweetie. Sorry to have bothered you, sleep tight.”
I’m staring at the ceiling listening to the rain slowing down, trying to fall asleep when the thunder booms, sounding like it’s happening right above my freaking cabin.
“Okay, we’re doing this. It’s happening,” I mutter to myself, rolling out of bed and reaching for my sneakers. Flicking on the lights, I search around my and Emilia’s things—Jenna was right, we are messy. Where the fuck is my raincoat?
Admitting defeat, I pull on my Brown Bear sweatshirt, which paired with my shorts, looks like I’m cosplaying as Russ from earlier.
This is probably a bad idea.
“Bad ideas are character building,” I say to myself out loud, just as the lights in my cabin go out. “Fuck my life. This is not a sign.”
I keep repeating that it’s not a sign in my head as I fumble around for the flashlight Jenna gave me earlier and slowly navigate my way to the door in the dark. As soon as I’m outside, I can see there are lights on in other buildings. It’s just my row of cabins that are out.
Of course it is.
The fact I’ve never googled the chances of someone being struck by lightning feels like a mistake as I run down the path toward in the direction of the lake.
There’s a real risk he’s going to turn me away.
There’s a real risk he’s going to turn me away.
What am I doing? Old Aurora would be booing and collapsing through sheer horror if she could see me now.
I’m thankful for my flashlight as I approach the row of cabins and count the numbers until I read the sign that says “33.” My heart is in my throat as I climb the porch steps to Russ’s door.
The worst he can say to me is to go back to my own bed. At least I think that’s the worst thing. I know I shouldn’t be here, so there’s no reason to be surprised if he doesn’t want my needy ass right now.
The lightning cracks in the sky, stunning but terrifying, and I knock on the wooden door. Light peaks through a gap between the curtains, but he doesn’t answer the door. I knock again and wait, rationalizing he might be in the bathroom or something, but he doesn’t answer.