Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,20

next door.

I try to analyze my feelings as I step outside and lock the door behind me. I feel annoyed by his presence here. Annoyed and…sad. Living out here in the woods the way I do is isolated. Lonely. I tell myself the benefit is that it’s also peaceful. This property is mine. I can be myself and do my own thing. When I’m at home or with the bears, I’m in my comfort zone.

I walk around the corner of the enclosure and veer into the woods. The tall fence rises to my left, climbing up the wooded hill alongside me.

When I’m here, I forget the way I look.

There it is.

As always, I feel superficial. Silly. No one cares how I look. No one but me. And why do I care? The answer whispers to me from the dark hole where I keep it buried.

Because you’ll never find someone now that you look like this.

I tell myself that isn’t true. I think about what the woman said to me in the meeting Tuesday. I’m still pretty. And I’m smart, and kind, and sometimes funny. I’m fun.

Ooh, fun, my inner bitch mocks.

It’s normal that I sometimes have sad days, a kinder me insists.

I sigh loudly enough to drown out all my inner monologue and hike at a punishing pace until I reach the clearing midway up the giant hill. The peak of the foothill is maybe another 300 yards past my workout clearing, but my property doesn’t go that far up. Instead it expands southwest for 300 acres, bumping into the Smoky Mountain National Park on the south and west sides, up against my own backyard on the north side, and running about 100 yards from Blue Moon Road on the east side.

Shit. I didn’t check the tracking app before I left the house. I look down at my phone, even though I know I don’t have service here. Without the cell phone signal booster in my house, I wouldn’t have more than a bar there either.

I tell myself the bears will be okay, remind myself I haven’t seen anything weird on the cameras since last time, and even then, it could have been a random hunter. Theoretically, at least.

I start stretching in the gauzy gray of early dawn.

I’m midway through my workout, sparring an invisible partner, when I see a dark blot on the web of trees in front of me. Man-sized. Moving. My pulse screeches to a halt, then tumbles into wild staccato. For a sickly long second, my head buzzes and I feel like prey. Then my self-defense training kicks in.

I draw a slow, purposeful breath into my lungs and force my fear-numb limbs to keep on moving through the motions of my workout. My eyes size up the shadow and a bolt of fear shoots through me.

God, he’s big. Like Sasquatch big. And shit, still moving toward me. My fear is cold, could freeze me. I refuse to let it. I modify my form, and like a figure skater or a gymnast performing an advanced routine, I work myself into a sparring sequence, each move chosen specifically for its ability to lead into a kick.

I’m whirling so fast I lose track of him for split seconds at a time, but I’ve always been good at tracking moving targets, so even brief glimpses of him tell me he’s still moving my way. Fuck. My body flushes, head to toe.

I’m going to have to nail him and run!

When there are maybe eight feet between us, I pause for half a second, double-checking my left ankle before I jump into a modified roundhouse kick.

He’s tall, and I’m not as limber as I once was due to the surgerized ankle, but I can still jump pretty high. High enough so my right foot makes a hook over his head, catching him just over his left ear.

It’s not until he staggers back, his face twisted, his big hand clawing at the air beside his face, that I notice his hair.

Dark, curly hair; a nice jawline. My heart stutters as I note the dark, thick brows, the luscious lips…

He mutters, “Fuck,” and heat pours through me.

My new neighbor.

Holy shit.

SIX

GWENNA

His fingers sink into his hair, and blood spills down his forehead.

His face is screwed into a wince. His eyelids seem to quiver in the bluish light, like someone squinting in the bright sun. As I watch, he pulls them slowly open.

He looks zoned. His hand moves in his hair, and another rivulet spills down