The feminine scream gave him only a second to respond before a crazed wet creature in a towel flew at him.
* * *
Ava’s shrill scream echoed in her ears as she lunged across the room at the intruder. Who was he? And how had he gotten in? She had no idea how she managed to keep her towel on as her hands curled into fists and rained down on the man. The drink in his hand - her Mountain Dew - went flying as he defended himself.
He grabbed her hands and quickly pinned her wrists stopping her punches. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my cottage?” His gruff voice matched the strength in his hands.
“Your cottage?” She struggled to get her hands free, but his grip held firm. “This is my cottage. At least for the next week. Now, will you let go of me?”
“Do you promise to stop hitting me?”
“Stop hitting you? You’re a strange man in my bedroom. I think I have every right to defend myself.” But even as she said the words, her fear lessened. He didn’t seem dangerous. Stiff perhaps if his hair was any indication, but he’d made no move to attack her, and he was clearly stronger than she was. Struggling would only wear her out.
“There’s obviously been a mistake and we can figure it out, but only if you calm down.”
Ava nodded but kept her guard up as he dropped her hands. “Okay, I’m calm, but you’re still in the wrong cottage. I have a rental agreement that says I have this place.”
The man held up his hand in a surrendering posture. “So do I. Look, why don’t you get dressed and then come out to the kitchen. We can figure out what happened then.”
Ava narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine, but don’t touch my stuff.” She eyed the can that was slowly pouring liquid on the floor. “Or any more of my food.”
He followed her gaze and then bent down and picked up the can. “I’ll find a towel to clean the floor.”
“Don’t bother,” she said. “I’ll use this one after I’m dressed.”
His eyes dropped to her towel and Ava’s face grew hot. Way to pull attention to the fact that only a small piece of cloth was keeping her covered. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll just be-” He pointed awkwardly at the door before turning and darting out to the hallway.
With the door shut and locked, Ava quickly finished drying and dressed. Even though the weather was warm, she tugged on her most modest shirt and shorts. She didn’t think he was dangerous, but there was no need to go tempting fate either. She dropped the towel on the red puddle and wiped it up then deposited the towel in the laundry hamper on her way out the door.
As she neared the kitchen, she pulled back her shoulders putting on a brave exterior. She was a strong, independent, assertive woman, and he was clearly in the wrong place. He sat at the small table, his phone in his hand, but he stood when she entered.
“Tea?” she asked before he could say anything. The situation was uncomfortable as it was, but sitting across from the stranger with nothing to occupy her hands sounded like torture.
“Do you have any coffee?”
“There’s a pot.” She pointed to the contraption on the counter. “But I don’t drink the stuff and I didn’t bring any.”
“Tea is fine,” he conceded and sat back down.
Ava filled the kettle in the sink and then turned the burner on before rummaging in the cabinets. She brought down two mugs and pulled out two tea bags from the stash she had brought placing one in each mug. She was thankful that she had something to keep her hands occupied and a reason not to be looking at him.
When the kettle whistled, she finally turned to him. “Do you take anything in it?”
“Cream and sugar, I guess,” he answered. “I’m not really much of a tea guy.”
Ava nodded, unsurprised by this declaration, and opened the fridge. She retrieved the cream and set it on the table next to the sugar. Then she grabbed the mugs. “So, what are we going to do about this?” She kept her tone even though her hands shook slightly as she lifted her mug.
“I suppose we should check the rental agreements and find out which one of us in the wrong place.”
Ava did not miss the condescension in his voice. He obviously had money or wanted people to believe he did. His manicured hands, perfectly coiffed hair, and designer shirt did not go unnoticed. “Uh huh, well I have mine and I can assure you that I’m in the right place. I followed Margie’s map to a T.”
He pushed his chair back. “I have mine as well. I’ll just grab it and we can put this to rest.” He strode out of the room with a purposeful gait and returned a moment later with a single sheet of paper in hand. With an exaggerated flourish, he placed the paper on the table in front of her.
She picked it up expecting to find something wrong - the date, the name of the cottage, something - but there was nothing off. His paper looked exactly like hers. “But I don’t… oh no.” She shook her head in disbelief. What were the odds?
“Oh no, what?” he asked as he sat again.
Ava sighed and ran a hand across the bridge of her nose. “Did you read the contract?”
The man shrugged. “I skimmed it.”
“Of course you did.” A judgmental edge filled her voice, but she didn’t care. “There’s a clause in the agreement about what happens if they double book the cottage. I asked about it because I thought it was odd, but Margie assured me it rarely happens.”
“Wait, there’s a clause about this? What does it say?”
Ava rolled her eyes. Why did people sign things they didn’t read? “That we have to give it at least three days before asking for a refund.”
“What?” His eyes widened making the ocean blue color of them even more prominent. “That’s preposterous. They overbooked and they make us wait three days for a refund? I don’t think so. We should go have a talk with that woman.”
“Margie. Her name is Margie.”
“I don’t care what her name is.” His hands splayed across the table, large and tan.
Ava wondered if the color was natural or from a bottle. She could never tan. Her father’s Scottish genes ran too strong in her pale skin, but every time she tried tanner from a bottle, it left her orange and streaky. She’d given up years ago.
“I’m not sharing the space for three days with a crazy woman I don’t even know. No offense.” He added the last two words quickly as if they could erase the harsh words he had spewed at her just before them.
Ava prickled and leaned back in her chair crossing her arms. Whether it was conscious or not, she enjoyed the added distance the movement brought. She generally prided herself on keeping a cool head, but this man managed to hit all her buttons. “First of all, I am not crazy. You were in my bedroom. I had every right to attack you, and this is not my idea of fun either. I came here to work, and I need peace and quiet.”
They locked gazes almost as if engaging in an unspoken game of chicken. Whoever spoke first would show their weakness, and Ava had decided it wasn’t going to be her. She didn’t know who this perfect, plastic man was, but she wasn’t about to let him steamroll her.
“Fine,” he said finally. “Get your agreement and let’s go see if anything can be done.”
Chapter 4
Justin shook his head as he watched the raven-haired woman rise and walk away from the table. She was a spit-fire for sure and nice to look at, but that didn’t mean he wanted to share his space with her. He had come here to get away from couples and love, and the last thing he needed was to be thrown into this small space with a woman. A very attractive, aggravating woman.
“Okay, here it is, and it’s exactly what I said.” She waved a piece of paper at him.
He stood. “Can I see it?” There was no use making a trip just to get there and find out this woman had been mistaken.
She cocked a raised brow at him, her expression a challenge. “You don’t believe me?”
Justin shrugged. He didn’t trust a lot of people, and women usually graced the top of the list of people he didn’t trust. “I
don’t even know you, but I’ve proven my contract was right. It’s only fair you show me yours.”
Her lips pursed together though the corners twitched. Her blue eyes twinkled at him. “I assume you’re still talking about my contract.”
He replayed his words in his head smirking a little when he realized what he’d said. So, she had a sense of humor. That was refreshing as his ex-wife hadn’t seemed to. Well, unless you considered her leaving him for her Botox doctor a sense of humor. Still, he wondered if this stranger could take what she dished out. “I was unless you had another suggestion.”
Her posture stiffened, and her smile faded as a light pink color floated across her face. “No. I most certainly did not. Here.”
She thrust the paper at him as if his words had lit it on fire. He scanned it, but her contract appeared as valid as his.
“Satisfied?” Her rigid demeanor had returned, the humor gone.
“Not really. I was hoping to unwind, but instead I have to get this fixed with a woman I don’t know.” He stepped toward the front door.
“Ava.”
“What?” He turned back to her.
“My name is Ava. If we’re stuck together, we might as well use names.”
He couldn’t care less about her name. His hope was the rental company would figure this out and relocate one of them, even if it was him. He didn’t care what cottage he stayed in as long as he was the only one in it. “Justin,” he said, but he didn’t offer his hand. “Can we go now?”
“By all means. Lead the way.” Sarcasm flowed out of her voice, but Justin didn’t take the bait. He simply wanted to get this cleared up and get away from her.
He headed toward his car, but the woman stepped toward the other car as they exited the cottage. “Where are you going? I’m parked right here.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t know you. I’m not getting in a car with you when you might be some serial killer or something.”
“I’m not a…” Justin sighed and shook his head in frustration. “I’m not a serial killer. I’m a producer and the host of Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy.”
She blinked at him, her expression deadpan. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
This. This reaction was exactly why he needed a new job. He didn’t even care if it was just producing though he preferred being in front of the cameras, but he needed something that people knew. Some job that would allow him to be recognized. “It’s a reality dating show. We’ve been around for ten years.”
Ava shrugged. “I don’t watch much television. I’m a writer, so I’m more focused on my own stories.”
A writer? That piqued his interest slightly. He wondered what she wrote but only briefly. Unless she was a screenwriter who worked for a large studio and could get him an acting job, he doubted they would have much in common. Though he thought it silly, if she wanted to drive herself, he wasn’t going to stop her. “Suit yourself. I’ll see you there.”
* * *
Ava shook her head as she climbed into her own car. Not only was he a distraction, but Justin was a piece of work. Why wasn’t he staying at some fancy schmancy hotel instead of at this little cottage? Maybe his money was all a facade. He seemed like the type to want to have prestige and therefore pretended he did in hopes of fooling people.
She shook her head as she opened her door. She didn’t know him, so she shouldn’t be judging him, but he certainly made it hard not to.
He was already parked at the rental office when she arrived, but he hadn’t gone in yet. He opened his car door as she did. Was he afraid of little old Margie? Or was it just that he hoped a unified front might help their case?
Ava pulled on the door handle but it didn’t budge. It was locked in the middle of the day?
“What’s the problem?” Justin asked coming up beside her.
“It’s locked.” She cupped her hands around her face and leaned closer but she could see no movement inside.
“What? That’s not possible. I just came from here fifteen minutes ago.” As if he thought the problem was just her strength, he pulled on the door handle himself.
“Maybe you were the last client for the day.”
“At just past noon? That makes no sense.” He pulled again on the handle and then began banging on the glass.
Of course he thought brute strength was the answer. “Maybe she took a break. Regardless, no one is in there. Let’s just go back and call. We can leave a message to have her return the call when she gets back in.”
“And then what? I came for peace and quiet.”
Ava’s fuse burned again. Did he know how obnoxious he was or was that just his character flaw? She flashed a tight-lipped smile at him as she bit her words out. “Well lucky for you, I need quiet to write as well. We can figure out a schedule for the main room and avoid each other as much as possible until this gets fixed.”
He stared at her for a moment before rolling his eyes and sighing. “Fine. I guess we don’t have much choice.”
At that moment, Margie appeared from the side of the building. “Ava, so good to see you again. Oh, and Justin too. I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She inserted the key and pulled open the front door seemingly oblivious to their stiff postures. “Come in, come in. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Pleasure? You double booked us.” Justin’s angry voice carried over her shoulder as they stepped into the office and Ava silenced him with a pointed stare.
She tried for a calmer tone. “Justin’s right, Margie. Evidently, we both got approved for the cottage this week, and uh that doesn’t really work for us. I need quiet to work, and he…”
“I need my own space,” he finished for her.
Margie’s face wrinkled in concern. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry that happened. Can I see your contracts?”
Ava and Justin handed their papers over and Margie scanned them. “It does appear we made a mistake. My assistant must have booked this one without me knowing.”
Ava glanced around, but she saw no other desk nor a place for one.
“We don’t care who made the mistake,” Justin said stepping forward. “We just want it fixed. Surely, you have another cottage one of us could take instead.”
“I’m afraid not,” Margie said. “We’re booked solid.”
“But… we can’t both stay there,” Ava said. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
“I’m sure you can work something out,” Margie said with a slight smile. “It does have two bedrooms, and while we’ll be happy to refund if it doesn’t work out, our policy is three days.”
“What kind of policy is that?” Justin asked stepping forward.
Ava placed a restraining hand on his arm. “We can figure something out for three days.”
He glanced down at her hand, and his voice softened. “Fine. Three days.”
“Good luck you two,” Margie called as they exited the office. As they climbed in their separate cars, Ava thought they would need a lot more than luck.
Suddenly she wondered if she might have more luck reaching Margie without Justin’s abrasive personality filling the room. She opened her car door and headed back toward the front door of the office.
He rolled down his window and shot her an inquisitive look. “What are you doing?”
“Go ahead,” she said with a wave. “I’ll be right behind you. I just forgot something.”
With a curt nod, he rolled up his window and backed out of the parking lot. Ava pulled the door open and stepped inside. “Margie?”
“Did you forget something dearie?”
“I just thought…” she sighed as she tried to form the diplomatic words she wanted to say. “I know Justin can be…. blunt (and that was putting it mildly), but we really can’t stay in the same cabin. Surely, there’s something you can do.”
“Are you a believer Ava?”
“I am which is why I shouldn’t stay in the same cottage with him even if it does have two rooms.”
Margie nodde
d. “And do you believe that God makes mistakes?”
“Of course not, but what does that have to do with anything?”
Margie smiled her sweet, grandmotherly smile but said nothing. Was she trying to say God had made sure they were double booked? But why would He do that? It was clear she and Justin were nearly complete opposites. “All right, well, thank you, Margie, and please call if something opens up sooner.”
Bewildered by the exchange, Ava left the office for the second time and headed back to the cottage.
Justin was sitting at the table scowling when she entered. “Okay, so how do you propose we make this work?”
She sat across from him and folded her hands together on the table. Sweet, she would be sweet. “Well, my best writing time is in the morning, and while I could write in my room, the view in the main room is more inspiring.”
“So, you want me to stay out of the main room the whole morning?” Justin’s face morphed into a portrait of contempt.
Nope, sweet flew out the window, and she glared at him. This wasn’t how she had planned to spend her time at the cottage either. “No, but if that could be quiet time until lunch. That way I could still get writing done.”
He matched her stare for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Fine. I can make that work. I’ll go surfing or something.”
“You surf?” She couldn’t picture him surfing. Even the jeans he wore currently had a pressed line on them. She didn’t know anyone ironed jeans. She certainly didn’t, but then again she didn’t mind wrinkles. In fact, she was probably on a first name basis with wrinkles, but she chalked that up to her hate/hate relationship with irons. That had started after an unfortunate burn incident she rarely discussed except when someone noticed the odd scar on her side.
“I used to.”
She waited for him to say more, but it appeared he was done sharing. She supposed if she imagined hard enough, he did have a slight surfer air, but like someone who had spent their time that way years ago. Though he appeared to be in shape, it wasn’t the lean shape of a surfer, more the muscular shape of a gym rat. Well, at least if he was outside, she might still get some work done. It wasn’t how she planned it, but it might be doable IF he kept up his end of the bargain. “All right. As long as you stay out of my food. And my drinks.” Justin’s eyes fell to the table. “You did bring your own food, didn’t you?”
The Producer's Unlikely Bride (The Blushing Brides Book 6) Page 3
