She took a deep breath, puffed up her cheeks, and blew it out slowly. This is what she got for doing her interview by Skype. A visit here would’ve been a wiser idea, but that hadn’t been in either budget—hers or the hiring committee’s. So here she sat in a big honking U-Haul in front of a dilapidated shack otherwise known as her new home. No wonder the property manager had arranged to leave the house open with the keys inside. Who would go near it?
Except for me.
Lindsey had signed a lease, and paid a deposit and the first month’s rent. Now she was stuck with the little shack for at least six months. She pinched her eyes closed for a moment, too realistic to hope that things would look better when she opened them. Night was falling as she got out of the truck, slammed the door with a clang, and headed up the path where a sidewalk should’ve been. The grass was way too high, but on the bright side, wildflowers bloomed in the yard. She could make out the yellow and pink blossoms, even in the twilight.
Stopping on the rickety front stoop, she reached over to the house numbers and twisted the four right-side-up. But the second she let go, it swung upside down again. Undaunted, she righted the number once more. She pulled the gum out of her mouth, stuck it behind the four, pressed it against the house, and crossed item number one off her to-do list.
Finding the front door unlocked as promised, Lindsey winced as she opened it, afraid of what she’d see inside. Probably the best idea she’d had all day was to show up here at night…or was it?
Evening light seeped through the windows, enough that she could see an empty living area with wide-plank, hardwood floors, a stone fireplace, and a tiny kitchen beyond. The cabin wasn’t nearly as dilapidated on the inside. A couple vases of those wildflowers might bring the place up to quaint. A dark hallway probably led to the lone bedroom and—please, God—a bathroom.
Teeth clenched, she swiped the light switch next to the door, but all she got was a click.
Click, click.
“Ugh,” Lindsey moaned. She’d need to flip a breaker, and for that she’d need a flashlight. But that would only fix things if the power was actually on.
“I’m working on that.” The deep voice with a drawl came from the dark hallway, and the man that matched it stepped out of the shadows.
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House
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Butterfly Dreams Page 30