We stare at each other across the room, silent aside from the rain pelting the window, and then her stance softens. ‘This is Otter Lodge.’
I nod. ‘I know that.’
‘And I’ve rented it from today.’
‘Me too,’ I say.
She rubs the heel of her palm up and down on her forehead, hard and fast, as if she’s massaging my words to make them mean something she likes the sound of better.
‘You can’t have.’
‘I absolutely promise you I did.’
She bends down and opens her bag, rifling around until she produces a handful of neatly folded paperwork.
‘Here. It’s right here in black and white.’ She smooths the sheets out on the end of the wooden kitchen counter, running her finger down the page as she picks out salient details. ‘Otter Lodge, reserved from 2 October. Paid. From Brianne, the property manager. And, also, I have the key.’
There’s a triumphant glint in her eye as she dangles a key from her fingertips.
‘I don’t need a piece of paper,’ I say. ‘This is my lodge. And here is my key.’ I dangle mine right back at her.
‘Your lodge,’ she says, deadpan. I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
I swallow. ‘My cousin’s place, to be exact.’ Even that’s a stretch; Barney is my second cousin twice removed, or something like that. We’ve never even met in person. The lodge belonged to his aunt, my mom’s cousin, and is now jointly owned by Barney and his sister who lives in Canada. He did mention something about renting it out sometimes, but I have no idea who Brianne is. ‘I have emails, but the battery on my phone died.’
‘Well, isn’t that convenient.’
I’m not sure how to play this. It’s after five in the afternoon, already dark, and it’s obvious neither of us know the geography of Salvation Island at all. It isn’t safe to head out, especially in this weather. The store is the next nearest building to here, no doubt long closed, and beyond that the only proper habitation on the island is up in the north. Otter Lodge sits some distance away on Salvation’s most southerly edge.
‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘But it’s true.’
We lapse into tense silence. My beer, bath and bed plan is disintegrating in front of my eyes, and I don’t like it one bit. She pulls her phone from her pocket and stabs at it for a few seconds, then raises her eyes to the ceiling. I’d say she’s counting under her breath, the way you might when you don’t want to explode with absolute rage.
‘I’m not going back over that mountain today,’ she says, shoulders squared.
‘I don’t blame you,’ I say. ‘Me neither. Though, technically, it’s a hill.’
She screws her wide mouth into a tight line, the exact same way Nate does when things aren’t going his way.
‘We can’t both be right,’ she says. ‘And I know I am.’
Man, she’s infuriating. She’s still having a hissy fit, while I’m over here working out how we’re going to get through this. ‘We’re both going to have to stay here tonight.’
She makes an un-cute choking noise. ‘Oh, no. I don’t think so.’
‘Okay.’ I fold my arms across my chest. ‘You know where the door is.’ For the record, I don’t actually expect her to leave in this weather, I just need her to understand that it isn’t an option for me either.
She flicks her eyes towards the door. ‘And I’ll lock it, right after you leave.’
I wait a couple of beats. ‘I’m not leaving.’
‘But … you have to!’ It bursts from her like a child.
I sigh and rub my hand over my eyes. I know this must be tougher for her than it is for me. I’m not such an ass that I can’t see that any woman would be wary about spending the night with a guy she doesn’t have any reason to trust.
‘I’m married, if it helps.’ I pull my wallet from my back pocket and flip it open to the photo of Susie and the kids. ‘My wife and my sons.’
‘Why the hell would that help?’ she snaps.
‘Someone thought I was a decent enough human to marry me?’
She looks pointedly around the lodge. ‘Well, she isn’t here to vouch for you now, is she? If she even exists.’
‘She exists,’ I mutter, pissed. She exists … she’s just three thousand miles away with my kids.
‘I can’t do this,’ she says. ‘You’re a stranger and a man and …’ She waves her arm. ‘Big.’