Discreet by Nicole French

9

Will pulled the truck down the long, winding driveway in front of his old wood cabin. In the dark, it looked even creepier than during the day, since unlike most houses, Will’s had no porch lights to give some aura of welcome. The whole thing was basically swathed in black. The woods were pretty much opaque at night, and you really couldn’t see anything except for the glimmer of moonlight on the lake down below. That, combined with the general decrepit state of the property, with its peeling, faded shingles and sagging roof, made me walk a little closer to Will than I might have otherwise.

He was a shadow in front of me, somehow even taller and more solid in the dark. His hair was tied up on the top of his head, but in the darkness, all that was really visible were the long lines of his silhouette—the breadth of his shoulders, the taper of his waist. And if I hadn’t been so close, I might not have been able to smell that clean, fresh scent of his. That wasn’t helping me clear my head at all.

He unlocked the door and flipped a switch, which immediately flooded a large, comfortable room with light. We stepped inside, and as the screen door slammed shut behind me, I swallowed my surprise at what lay before me.

First of all, it was big—bigger than you’d imagine a cabin that didn’t look like it was more than a thousand square feet. It made sense, of course. If this was a remodeled lodge, it was going to be spacious, but you certainly wouldn’t expect it from the outside.

As I looked around, it seemed as if the house had been completely gutted. All of the walls had been removed so that, as I turned around in a circle, parts of a kitchen, living room, and study all flowed seamlessly into one another, more like a loft space than an enclosed cabin. In the front of the wide-open room was a large couch and loveseat set up around a rustic wood coffee table, all facing a picture window that looked through the trees to the lake. Bookshelves lined the opposite wall, framing a large desk in the middle. In between the living area and the kitchen was a dining set—a giant carved table surrounded by ten matching chairs.

“Where do you sleep?” I wondered before I realized I had said it out loud. And just like that, I was imagining Will in a bed, his long, lean frame stretched out atop rumpled linens. Maybe they’d be white, setting off his tanned skin, draped just so across an otherwise unclothed, sculpted middle…

And then, of course, I was blushing. Dammit.

Will raised a brow and pointed to one corner where a set of stairs disappeared down to a lower floor. Wow. This house really was bigger than it looked from the outside.

It was also a lot nicer. As I followed Will farther inside, I noticed that the furniture and decorating, while not particularly flashy, had the quiet elegance that you could only attain with real money. Fabrics that you knew didn’t have a thread of polyester in them. Furniture that was obviously solid wood—no particleboard crap for this guy. Whatever “advertising” Will had done before he came out here, he’d obviously cleaned up. This place was nice. Really nice.

“Give me a second, and I’ll take a look at your car,” Will said as he moved into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some tea.”

Was that an offer? Without waiting for my response, Will turned next to the center island and set a kettle to boil on the wide Viking stove. Not knowing what to do, I slid onto one of the bar stools at the island and watched him work.

He was…competent. I wasn’t sure how else to say it. Even with tasks so minor, Will moved with the kind of surety a lot of people lacked. Especially men in the kitchen. Especially in this part of the world. All my life, I’d grown up around men and boys who could barely butter toast on their own. I honestly would have been shocked if Lucas or his father had the first idea about how to boil water or make something simple, like boxed pasta.

Will was clearly self-sufficient. At first glance, I would have taken him for someone who at the very least spent his life outdoors, probably working with his hands, and with the smears of dirt and residue of dried sweat that stained his shirt, maybe even homeless. But in close proximity and in the comfort of his home, it was hard to ignore the natural, somewhat animal magnetism and confidence emanating from his body. Transfixed, I watched the lines of muscle moving under his thin t-shirt. He was built like a swimmer, with shoulders that managed to be broad, not bulky, over an otherwise lean torso, and legs that went for days. And yeah, it was hard not to notice the perfectly shaped ass that filled out his carpenter pants indecently well.

Still, between the hair and the clothes, Will seemed to be working really hard to mask his natural looks. I couldn’t help wondering why.

He turned around as the thought echoed again and again through my mind, and caught me staring directly at his ass. I flushed. The right side of his mouth quirked under his beard.

“What’s on your mind, Lily pad?” he asked as he passed me a mug of tea. “Peppermint all right?”

“Who are you hiding from?” I blurted out.

Will’s green eyes darkened, and three rows of worry lines appeared over his brow. He took a sip of his tea, then set it on the counter.

“I’m going to take a look at your car,” he said, ignoring my question. “Stay here.”

Shit. I opened my mouth to apologize, but before I could, he’d already abandoned his mug on the counter and was gone. So much for making amends.

I studied the big open room again while I waited, sipping my tea. It was really good tea, actually—maybe some of the best I’d ever had. And the rest of the room, as far as I could tell, had the same kind of quality. The sofa and loveseat had that look of soft, supple leather that probably cost a fortune. Every appliance in this kitchen was state of the art, immaculate stainless steel. The counters were a brilliant, polished granite, and the wood floors gleamed. This wasn’t just a cabin in the woods. It was a sanctuary.

A sanctuary that was pretty much devoid of life, I also noticed. There wasn’t even a plant in here to keep alive, much less a cat or a gerbil or any sign of social connections. No birthday cards pinned to a bulletin board or stuck on the fridge. No family photos on the walls or shelves. There wasn’t even a trace of mail left anywhere—magazine subscriptions, bills, nothing. If you were to walk into this house, you would have absolutely no idea who lived here.

The front door opened with a loud squeak and Will strode back in, retying his hair on top of his head. I liked it when he did that—not just because the man could rock a man bun way better than should be legal, but also because it allowed me to see at least some of his face. I wondered when the last time was that he’d shaved. If he’d ever shaved, by the looks of that beard.

Suddenly, I was desperate to know what he looked like underneath it.

“Your axle is toast,” he announced. “After we’re done here, I’ll drive you home. I doubt you’ll be able to get AAA out here at this time of night.”

I nodded and faced him across the counter, still unsure of what to say. I was still mad at him about this morning. The way he’d stood me up and then treated me like a stranger.

“So what were you up to before you just ‘happened’ to crash in front of my driveway?” Will asked. His voice was awkward, like he was trying to be nice, but couldn’t quite manage it. I knew that sound. That sound was all guilt, couched in a passive-aggressive mask.

I set my mug down on the counter. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can get off your egotistical high horse. I’m not stalking you.”

Will pressed his mouth together and raised a brow in a way that told me he didn’t totally believe me.

I scowled. “I’m not.”

“All right, all right,” he said, almost like he wanted to laugh. “So what were you up to?”

“I met up with some old friends for a bonfire. They actually showed up.”

Will’s jaw tightened, and he set his mug down. “Okay. Okay, sure. I guess I owe you an apology.”

“You guess?”

He frowned. “It was just a suggestion to meet up for a ride. I told you, I decided to go hiking around Pend d’Oreille instead. You saw me on my way out, and I didn’t get back until just now. I couldn’t call you because I don’t have your number. Or a phone, for that matter.”

I shook my head. “How do you not have a phone?”

Will shrugged, but I could see him withdraw. Jeez, the guy really didn’t like questions about himself.

“I don’t need one,” was all he said. “Listen, I’m—I’m sorry, okay? I am. I don’t have friends, Maggie, and to be honest, I wasn’t really looking for any. I didn’t think you would really care.”

“You…” I trailed off. The guy was so much more than frustrating. “You are so full of shit.”

“Come again?”

We stared at each other for a minute over the counter, neither of us blinking. I didn’t believe him. Not that he didn’t have friends—that much was completely obvious. But he didn’t care? There had been moments with Will where I could have sworn he was dying for me to touch him. He had stopped traffic in the middle of the street just to stare at me for a full minute.

The question wasn’t if he cared. It was how much. Because the guy certainly wasn’t indifferent.

“What happened to you before you came here, Maggie?”

I looked up, surprised. I thought I was the one doing the interrogating here. “What do you mean?”

Will passed his mug back and forth between his big hands for a minute, then took a long drink. “That day we met,” he said. “You seemed really freaked out.”

“You mean the day you were a complete asshole to the girl with the twisted ankle?”

Will blushed. Full-on, red-faced blushed. It was adorable and made me want to hug him. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Will had made it very clear that we weren’t friends. That we were nothing.

It would just be a lot easier to believe if he weren’t looking at me like we were a lot more than nothing.

He chewed on his upper lip for a second. “No, it was something else. The biking, the swimming. You’re running from something. I recognize the signs.” His green eyes flickered. “Takes one to know one.”

Again, that curious energy, an unnamable understanding, flamed between us.

I swallowed and stared at my mug. “I…something happened in New York.”

“I figured. What was it?”

I turned the handle of the mug to the right, then to the left. “Bad breakup.”

The air between us thickened. Why was I even divulging any of this? Wasn’t I trying to get away from the stigma of my mother’s behavior? All I needed was for the truth about Theo to get out. It would seal that legacy for good.

But Will just waited for me to think, much more patient than I ever was, until he asked his next question. “What did he do?”

“Why do you think he did anything?” My voice was much sharper than I wanted it to be.

“Lily.”

With the casual use of the pet name, the fissures cracked open. It was a reminder that, if only in one small way, this strange, distant man had made me his. We barely knew each other, and yet, clearly there was some kind of connection here, even if it confused both of us. I wasn’t Theo’s flower anymore. I was a grouchy hermit’s lily.

Slowly, before I was even aware of it, a tear fell down my cheek. I sucked in a breath.

“Hey.” Will’s voice was a low burr, a comfort that slid through my thoughts. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he said. “But if you do, you can trust me, Lil. I promise you that.”

“Like I trusted you to meet me for a ride?”

This time he didn’t look away. His eyes met mine and didn’t waver, and I saw the true remorse I had been looking for since he picked me up, that I had begged for the entire time I was with Theo. Will might have his secrets—that much was clear—but right now, he was an open book.

“I am sorry,” he said, his gaze unmoving. His hand squeezed mine. “I am.”

I watched him for a few more seconds, but he never blinked, never looked away. The rest of the house faded, until finally, I sighed.

“Forgiven,” I said simply. “You’ve rescued me three times now. I suppose that means we’re even. But I think I’ll divulge my life’s story another time.”

“Fair enough.” Will’s mouth quirked, and more than ever I wanted to know what he looked like when he smiled. Actually, I wanted to know what he looked like period.

“So what’s with the Dumbledore look you have going on here?” I said, gesturing up and down.

Will blinked. “Dumbledore?”

“The hair. The beard. You’re right out of Hogwarts. I can’t decide if you want to murder me or turn me into a toad.”

Will snorted. “I was going more for Hagrid.” He paused with an uncertainty that was disarmingly adorable. “You think it looks that bad?”

I cocked my head. “Do you care?”

“No.” But then he answered again. “At least, I didn’t until now.” He cleared his throat. “So, your friends. It was a good time?”

I frowned. This was weird. He was trying to take the attention off himself by making stupid small talk. I didn’t know Will very well, but I knew that wasn’t his style. And it certainly wasn’t mine.

“Not really, if you want to know the truth,” I said frankly. “I sat around drinking water while they shotgunned Natty Ice like we were still seventeen. Then one of them basically called me a tap-dancing monkey, and another told me that I was a slut for wearing a short dress.”

Will’s eyes immediately flared. “They said what?”

I shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly like that. But…yeah. The insinuations were there. It’s about par for the course for this area.”

“What the…” he sputtered, repeating himself again and again until he finally managed to string together a sentence. “Who was this racist motherfucker who called you a dancing monkey? To your face?”

I flushed. It was my fault for bringing it up, but now that I had, I felt embarrassed by it. People said shit like that and didn’t really understand how it felt—little comments under which they could claim plausible deniability. I’m sure if I had confronted Lindsay point blank, she would have said she was talking about my age, or people from New York, or literally anything other than my ethnicity.

Because if you did bring it up, you were either told to let it go, like Lucas told me to, or people went crazy, like Will. But there were always going to be Lindsays in the world—ignorant bitches who would never really understand how their words cut. Or maybe they did, and they didn’t care.

“She was just jealous,” I muttered. “Because the guy she liked flirted with me instead.”

“This was your ex?”

I looked up. “How did you know?”

Will shrugged. “Lucas Forster. The way you talked about him. It’s kind of obvious.”

I pressed my lips together before taking a sip of tea. “Well, yeah. He ended up making a move, but I wasn’t interested. I just…” I sighed, shoving a hand through my hair while I looked to the side, toward the trees brushing against the windows. Anywhere but the pair of intense green eyes staring holes through me. “I had to leave, but I didn’t want to go home. I already feel like I’m moving backward enough, you know? And Lucas…he was the one who mentioned my skirt.”

“What did he say?”

I stopped playing with my mug. “Who?”

“Luke Skywalker. What did he say about your skirt?”

I shied, but Will just waited. Seriously, the guy could probably get the Mona Lisa to talk if he stared long enough. It was even more annoying because he kept his own story locked up so tight.

“He saw a picture and suggested that I was somewhat responsible for…certain things…because of clothes I wore.” My face was heating up. God, this was mortifying.

“Dumb motherfucker.” Will’s voice was louder than a grumble, just barely.

I looked up. “Excuse me?”

Will’s brow rose. “You heard me.”

I shook my head. “Lucas is not dumb. He’s actually great, and he’s doing a lot for me and my mom. He’s allowed to think a certain way if he wants to. He’s just looking out for me.”

“He’s dumb as a fucking post,” Will said, “if he thinks for one second that covering up your legs would do a goddamn thing to hide how beautiful you are.”

His words echoed around the room, and again through my mind. Beautiful. Will thought I was beautiful. Will thought I was beautiful?

What?

But before I could respond, he cleared his throat, polished off his tea, and stood back up. “Fuck ’em, Lil. You’re better off without people who make you feel like less than you are. Fuck them and their shitty beer.”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand plenty. And I’m telling you, you don’t need that kind of bullshit.”

“Well, maybe I don’t need them or you telling me anything!” I burst out, suddenly tired of having anything dictated to me whatsoever.

Theo used to dictate my entire life. Mama spewed advice on my social life. Lucas on my wardrobe. And now Will was standing here telling me to write off people I had known my whole life. I just wanted everyone to keep their stupid opinions to themselves unless I asked for them.

“Lily—”

“Stop,” I said, pushing away from the counter. “I’ve had enough. Sure, Lucas pissed me off, and I left, but you don’t know him at all. He’s a good friend, and he’s been there for my mom even when I haven’t. Do you know what he’s doing right now? Basically all the major work on our property for a song because he knows we can’t afford it.”

“And why do you think he’s doing that, Lil?” Will cut in. “Maybe to get under another skirt of yours?”

“No, you asshole! Because that’s the way he is! Because real fucking people don’t lock themselves away in a cabin and pretend the world doesn’t exist! And the good ones actually try to make it better. They see a woman in need, and they stop to help without shouting at her. They fucking show up!”

I seethed at him across the counter, but Will didn’t move a muscle. No quirk of the mouth. No stress lines over his forehead. No indicator that my outburst made any impact whatsoever.

Suddenly fed up, I pushed off the stool.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” I marched toward the door, and Will immediately grabbed his keys off the counter and followed.

“Lily pad, wait.”

I kept going.

“I just want to go home,” I said as I reached for the doorknob.

“Maggie.”

I paused, still looking at the door. I didn’t dare look at him—I didn’t know what I’d find swimming in his deep green depths. Anger? Annoyance? Irritation? I felt all of that and more.

Will’s hand drifted down, fitting naturally to my waist. His fingers were strong, holding me still. I wasn’t moving, but I knew if I tried, he wouldn’t let me. His intent vibrated clearly.

“You could stay,” he said quietly.

When I turned, he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes, instead, were fixed on the spot where his fingers rested over my hip. My shirt had risen a few inches, and his middle and index fingers rested directly against my skin. It was strange—he had touched so much more of me when he had pulled me out of the lake, or when he had picked me up from the road. But this touch, so incidental, so minor, had my heart racing. The entire room was a glowing ember.

“You don’t have to go home if you don’t want, Lil,” Will said. “You’re safe here for the night.”

It was only then his eyes rose to meet mine. They were wide and fathomless. All the bitterness I was accustomed to seeing there was gone. Instead, there was just frank understanding of someone who knew what it felt like to want to escape. And in that moment, I understood the offer for what it really was. Will had created a safe space for himself here—a sanctuary void of interaction with people. People whom, for whatever reason, he wanted to avoid. And now he was sharing that sanctuary with me.

Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed. I hardly knew the man, and who was I to say this weirdo with a giant beard wasn’t going to try to murder me in my sleep? But the house where I grew up was full of ghosts, alive and dead, just like the rest of this lake. I had fled one set of problems only to return to the old ones. But here, with this strange man, there was no judgment. No anger. With him, I was only me.

I swallowed and covered the hand at my waist with my own. Then slowly, I nodded. “Okay.”