The Billionaire's Christmas Bride (Big Bad Billionaires #3) - L. Steele Page 0,1

listen. There… I can hear it… The silence. I can’t stop the smile that lifts my cheeks. Most people don’t like to be alone… Me? I thrive on it. As long as I can bake during the day, then curl up with my book-boyfriend in the evenings, with a glass of my favorite bubbly—champagne only, I’m strict like that—and surrounded by bubbles in a bathtub… Oh yeah, that would be a bonus. I push the door open, then walk around to retrieve my two suitcases. Don’t judge. I like to have the comforts of home with me when I travel. So, what if I am only a few hours away from home? I need my favorite set of PJs, my bath bombs, my wine...and this. I walk around to the front of the car, open the door to the passenger side, and retrieve my most prized possession, the tools of my trade—my pastry chef bag, without which, I never go anywhere.

Sliding the strap of my baking toolkit across my chest, my handbag over one shoulder, I begin to drag one of the suitcases…which promptly gets stuck in the muddy ground. I haul at it, there’s a cracking sound, then the valise dips to one side. Shit, did I break it already? To be fair, it had been a surprisingly cheap buy from the charity shop. I should have known better than to buy it, even though it had been marked down by about 70%. I wipe the sweat from my forehead. I straighten, take a step back, and instantly lose my footing. I hit the ground on my butt.

Bloody hell, this is all going tits over arse. A whistling sound emerges from the trees.

Goosebumps flare on my skin. Shit, is there someone…or something out there? It’s all well and good to want to be alone… But in the countryside? I hadn’t considered how…spooky it could all be. A low humming sounds in the distance. Is that a bird? A plane? Crap, there is no Superman around here to rescue me. I am on my own. Better get your arse in gear, woman. I jump up to my feet. Best get indoors, turn on some lights, then I can come back for my luggage.

A breeze blows and I hunch my shoulders. Damn it, how can I be warm and cold at the same time?

I take another step, trip over some rocks. Hell, I need lights, and fast. Okay, hold on, I’ve got this.

I grab my phone from my handbag, switch on the flashlight. A beam of light illuminates the way. I walk toward the patio, take the steps up to the front door, shove my hand into my handbag and scrounge around for the key. Where is it? Where the hell is it? There! I pull out the key and insert it into the lock. The door unlocks. Woo!

I push against the door, walk into a spacious living room. Switching off the light, I drop the phone into my handbag. Then I take stock.

There’s an unlit fireplace in the center, a settee beyond that, facing the door, complete with a rug in front of it. To my right are big French windows, to my left is a bookcase, with floor to ceiling shelves, filled with books. Yay, that’s another point for this place. Next to it is a small table with liquor bottles.

I walk to it, place my handbag on the bar counter, next to a wall clock that’s turned face down. I turn it face up; realize it’s stopped. Huh? Guess it ran out of batteries. I replace it on the counter, turn around. That’s when I hear the low sound of whistling again. I gulp. Guess I hadn’t imagined it then?

It’s a whistling, and of the human variety. This is not from an animal or a bird. The hell? I glance around the comfortable space. Everything looks undisturbed, though how would I know? I hear the sound of something sloshing from the direction of the back door… What the—? Did the intruder decide to take a bath?

Is there a hot tub of some kind on the patio at the back?

I take a step forward, then stop. I need a weapon. I am not going out there alone. Shit, why had I thought it was a good idea to come here on my own, remind me again? I hadn’t been running away, I hadn’t… Yeah, right. I’d needed to take myself away from all of those shiny, happy, faces celebrating