Kiss and Don't Tell(10)

I glance down at my bare chest and then back up at Holmes. “Am I turning you on?”

His face remains stoic. “There’s a girl in the house.”

“Think she’s never seen a bare chest before?”

“It’s respectful.”

I shrug. “She probably won’t be up for a while. She seems really happy with the guest room.” I start the coffee and then lift myself up on the counter. “Kind of crazy that she stumbled over here, right?”

Holmes nods. “Yeah. Better us than someone else.”

I scratch the side of my cheek, still trying to wake up. “Taters was a dick about it.”

“He wanted a guys’ trip. Having her here fucks that up.”

“It’s one night.” I roll my eyes. “There’s no way in hell we would’ve turned her out.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t have happened.” Holmes stares at me for a few seconds and then says, “You seemed to like her.”

My brow creases. “How would you even know? You were buried in your book most of the night.”

He shrugs. “I see things.”

“You’re delusional.”

He shrugs again and opens up his book again.

“I mean, yeah, she’s good-looking.”

He nods but doesn’t look up at me.

“And, sure, I think her curves are nice.”

I see him lift his brow, but he still stares down at his book.

“And am I a little curious why she’s in Banff with no reservations . . . and alone? Sure, but anyone would be.”

He makes a sound under his breath.

“And does she remind me of someone?”

Holmes lifts a brow. Again.

“Maybe she does, but I’m having a hard time putting my finger on it. But that’s beside the point. I wasn’t expecting a girl to come tumbling in here last night. Just shocked. Surprised, is all.”

Holmes leans back in his chair and lifts his book up.

“And call me crazy, but I think there’s something she’s not telling us. Like, some mystery she’s trying to solve. I mean, who comes up here without a reservation? Especially in today’s age when technology sits in the palm of your hand? Seems weird, doesn’t it?”

My coffee starts brewing, the bubbling sweetness of caffeine almost ready.

“But we don’t need to worry about it because she’ll be out of here today. Just going to be one of those stories we talk about when we’re older.” In an old man voice, I say, “Remember the time that girl came to the cabin in the middle of a thunderstorm and she gave us Quest Bars as a peace offering? That’s quite the story our grandchildren would get a kick out of.”

Holmes continues to be silent so I drop it at that and jump down from the counter to get a coffee cup.

“Oh, I didn’t think anyone would be up,” a shocked feminine voice says from the living room.

I turn to find Winnie standing there in a pair of leggings and a tight-fitting green shirt, different from the red she wore yesterday, but still the same shape. Meaning, once again, she’s showing off those curves that I seem to enjoy.

But when I look at her face, I not only notice she took a shower, but I see the way her eyes are scanning my chest.

My bare chest.

Hell, Holmes was right, I should’ve worn a shirt.

For some reason, I feel like picking up two coffee mugs so I can hold them in front of my nipples to cover up.

“Early birds,” I say awkwardly. “I thought, uh, that you’d sleep longer. I can go put on a shirt.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I mean, if you want to put a shirt on, please put one on, but don’t put one on because of me. I’ve seen a man’s chest before. I mean, not quite as fit and muscular as yours, but, I mean . . . not that I was looking. Obviously I looked, but I wasn’t staring. I just noticed, is all. But, sure, if you want to put a shirt on, go ahead, but not on my account. I’m fine. Not offended by your nakedness.” She takes a deep breath. “You’re not naked. That’s normal for a man, to not wear a shirt.” She thumbs toward the door. “Well, this has been embarrassing, I’m going to go now. Can you thank the guys for me?”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah, figured I should go find my car; I took up enough of your vacation time.”

For some reason, I don’t feel comfortable with her going out there alone, especially since all the woods and roads are new to her. So instead of letting her leave, I say, “I’ll go with you.”

I catch a smirk from Holmes, but choose to ignore it.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary at all.”

Forgetting the coffee, I ask, “Do you know your way around these roads?”

“I mean, it can’t be too hard, right? I have a general idea. Nothing a little poking around won’t solve.”

“You have no idea where you are.” I move past her and down the hall. “Be right back.” I jog toward my room, past hers. I glance in to see her bed made and as if nothing was touched. I make it to my room, snag a shirt from my dresser, and slip on my socks and running shoes. I throw my hair up into a man bun and then jog back down the hallway, where I see Winnie putting on her shoes.

When she spots me, she says, “Seriously, you don’t need to help me.”