when I see it. She’s trying to hide it behind forced desire, but it’s plain as day on her face. This isn’t about attraction. She’s running from something.
“Not interested.” I remove her hands. “Like I said, I’ve had a long day, so unless you want to tell me what’s really going on, come tomorrow, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to camp.”
“Nothing’s going on.” She backs away, holding her own hands. “I just miss my dad.”
“If you can miss him here, you can miss him at home.” I sigh, struggling to keep my cool. My patience for liars is thin on a good day, and today’s been just about the worst. “It’s obvious you’re running from something, Norah. Now you can either tell me what it is, or plan to get the hell out of my cabin."
"It's not your cabin."
"According to your dad's will, it is.” I don’t realize I’ve walked her back against a wall until I’m close enough to press my hand to the wood. “You don’t owe me all your secrets, sweetheart, but you can’t expect me to let you stay if you don’t tell me what kind of trouble you’re in.”
I can see her thoughts churning behind her eyes. She’s cooking up something, and I’m willing to bet it’s not a pot of truth. I cup her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze.
"Whatever you do, little girl, do not lie to me. Or I'll toss you out on your ass tonight.”
She glowers at me for a long, hard moment, until finally, her composure breaks. I feel her jaw slacken against my palm. "My ex-boyfriend is looking for me."
My whole body goes taut. “Bad break up?”
She almost chuckles, then nods.
I should’ve guessed it. Why else would she be so damn determined to stay off the grid? I let go of her chin and give her space, knowing the awful answer before I’ve even asked the question.
"He hurt you?"
She closes her eyes, takes a breath. “The word hurt doesn’t begin to describe what that asshole did to me.”
The next time she looks at me, I don’t just see the ballsy teenager with the green eyes. I see the little girl she once was, black dress and bare feet on the grass. I’ve never wanted to protect another person so fiercely. I’ve also never wanted to kill someone so intensely. But I swear, I could beat her ex-boyfriend to death.
It makes no goddamn sense. I know nothing about this girl. But sending her off to fend for herself is no longer an option.
“You can stay here until I leave,” I tell her.
“When will that be?”
“I’m not sure.” I can almost feel the tension creeping back into her limbs. “Not for a few days, at least.”
That seems to calm her well enough. She shoulders her backpack and heads for the bedroom, stopping halfway there to say, “Thank you, Silas.”
Hearing my name on her tongue does strange things to my stomach—and other body parts. “Don’t mention it.”
She closes the bedroom door, and I take the stairs up to the loft. There, I find a tall dresser and a plush reading chair, plus the futon she promised. I pull the futon out into a bed and then find a spare set of sheets in the dresser, alongside some men’s jeans and T-shirts that I can only assume were Jack’s. No towels, though. And after driving all day, what I could use more than anything is a long, hot shower.
I check for towels in ten different places and come up empty. Finally, I have no other option but to ask Norah where they are.
I knock softly on the closed bedroom door. “Hey. Where’d you guys keep the towels?”
Muffled footsteps approach before the door swings open. She’s still got her tank top on, but no shorts. Just plain black panties. If I wasn’t holding on to the door frame, I’d be on my knees, my mouth watering for a taste of something juicy.
“They’re above the washer,” she says, drawing my attention back to her face. I didn’t even know this place had a washing machine. She seems to sense my confusion. “I’ll show you.”
I follow her to the kitchen, trying and failing not to watch her ass sway from side to side as she walks. Every inch of this girl’s body is forbidden fruit, begging me to take a bite. She opens a pocket door to reveal a washing machine, and on the shelf above it, stacks of colorful towels.
“Thanks,” I