Demanding Ransom - By Megan Squires Page 0,66

you’re denying the sleeping part, but you were still completely beautiful.”

“Right.” I straighten up in the middle seat of the cab. “Because slobbering all over your shoulder is so attractive.”

“I’ve always said girls drool over me. You were just confirming that statement.” Ran slips the truck into the open space next to my mother’s vehicle and pulls the keys from the ignition. “You ready for this?”

“No.” I shake my head, hoping that maybe he’ll say we can head back down the hill and scrap the idea of spending the weekend at the cabin. But I know that’s not going to happen. Only in my dreams. Maybe I should go back to sleep.

“It will be fine. I promise you.” His words don’t provide me any assurance, but I don’t think we have any other option because Mom’s husband, Sterling, is already bounding down the long staircase toward us, hands outstretched to lend some assistance with our luggage.

“Margaret.” He deposits an obligatory kiss upon my cheek. “Ransom, I presume.” He takes Ran’s hand in his grip and gives him a firm, no-nonsense handshake. “We’re so glad you could make it up to the chalet.”

I follow Sterling up the icy steps and crane my neck over my shoulder toward Ran as he mouths “chalet” with an incredulous look on his face. I try not to laugh, but all I want to do is correct Sterling and tell him that my name is Maggie, that Ran’s is Ran, and that we’re visiting their cabin. But then I think I’d run the risk of Ran commenting on my obsession with semantics, so I decide instead to trail behind Sterling and not say a word. I have a feeling this weekend just might result in a bloodied tongue from all of the biting I’ll be doing.

“Thank you for having us, Mr. Manor.”

“It’s Sterling,” he corrects as he props open the front door for us to walk through. “And it’s our pleasure.”

The cabin is immaculate—granite counters, plush, leather couches, and an enormous widescreen are the first things to draw my eye. That and the massive stretch of windows that runs the entire south side of the cabin—floor-to-ceiling—creating a scape of the sloping, snow-coated mountains like it’s a painting rather than the actual outdoors.

“There are two empty rooms upstairs, one for each of you. Please feel free to make yourselves at home.” It’s such an odd statement coming from a man who is married to the one person that completely ruined the definition of ‘home’ for me years ago. “We’ll dine at 5:00.”

The way Sterling talks, it sounds as though he’s a bellboy rather than a stepfather.

“Thank you, Sterling,” Ran says, pulling our luggage from his hands. “I can take it from here.”

“Of course,” Sterling nods, and extends a hand to the staircase at our left. It’s narrow and leads to the upstairs rooms where all of the children will sleep I assume. I follow upon Ran’s heels and once we’re at the top, I can see the upstairs is more of a loft in nature as it has a bonus room that overlooks the family room below. There is a line of six doors, five of which must be bedrooms and one that has to be a bathroom because the door is ajar and I can see the impressive travertine floors from where I stand.

“Those must be ours,” Ran says, pointing toward the only two other rooms with their doors open at the end of the hall. “Why don’t you take the one on the right and I’ll take the one on the left.”

I nod, honestly not caring which room I have at all.

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” I tug my bag from his grip. “What are we doing here?”

“You’re earning your first patch, Maggie.” We walk toward our empty rooms and Ran follows me into mine. There’s a queen-sized bed perfectly wrapped in expensive looking bedding, tucked in on the sides like a present, just like I pictured. I have the overwhelming urge to jump on it and rip the sheets from the mattress, but I restrain myself. Biting my tongue and restraining my emotions. This is going to be a long weekend.

“Did we have to start with such a huge patch?”

“It will be fine, you’ll see,” Ran assures, sliding his fingers down the length of my ponytail, giving me a provoking grin as they continue along my neck.

“Knock-knock.” My mother stands in the doorway, her low-cut, silk blouse bowing

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