raccoon wasn’t anywhere that she could see, thank goodness.
She followed the well-worn path to the little wooden structure. Packed earth from years of use made it a little easier to walk in her heels.
She kept her eyes focused on the small building. It looked rather quaint.
Whatever she had to tell herself, right?
Just before she opened the rickety door, she looked over her shoulder. Cal watched her. Did he think she wouldn’t go inside?
She’d show him, although the prospect of stepping inside the building held no appeal whatsoever. But she really had to go bad, and if she stood outside much longer, she’d be squirming and that wouldn’t look at all good.
She kicked the door a couple of times, to scare any creepy-crawly bugs or spiders out of the way; opened the door; and stepped inside.
The door bumped closed behind her.
Her eyes began to burn. She stumbled back against the door, her arms waving in front of her as she fought for air that wasn’t rancid from years of waste products. Oh, God, this must be what hell was like. No wonder someone had invented the toilet!
Her mind screamed hurry as she tried to focus in the dim light that came from the half-moon cutout. Thankfully, not enough that she could fully appreciate her surroundings. She saw the two holes. Where were the toilet seats? There were no toilet seats!
Don’t panic. She took a deep, calming breath…and gagged.
She jerked her skirt up and her panty hose down. Had no one ever heard of air freshener? Stickups? Candles? Okay, maybe lighting a flame wouldn’t be good unless it was someone’s intention to blow the place up. Which right now sounded like a good idea to her.
She finished in record time. He’d lied; there
At this point in time, she didn’t care that she’d paid twenty frigging dollars for the hose. Marge would replace them. Boy, would she replace them.
She yanked the panty hose off and tossed them in the hole before pulling her skirt down, then opened the door. Blessed fresh air from a welcome breeze hit her in the face when she stepped out. She let the door slam behind her. As she walked up the path, her legs wobbled and she was light-headed from holding her breath.
How the hell was she going to manage to stay here until she got her stupid story? The homestead was deplorable. She couldn’t live here under these conditions. No one would expect her to.
Was she throwing in the towel?
No, damn it!
At least she’d been saved from Cal laughing at her. He wasn’t at the back door. He hadn’t seen her humiliation, and she’d make sure he never did. If she had to face outhouses and raccoons every day until she got her story, she would. Giving up was not an option.
A shadow moved across one window. He’d said the homestead was haunted. A cold chill of foreboding swept over her.
Of course the place wasn’t haunted! Now she was being utterly ridiculous and she knew better than this. Her parents hadn’t raised a fool.
Now, the stupid raccoon was a different matter. She could see it, touch it, and had even smelled it-which hadn’t been pleasant. The raccoon made her nervous and she was never, well, hardly ever, nervous.
She would not let a dumb animal defeat her, nor an imaginary ghost or even a smelly outhouse. She was Nikki Scott and no one got the best of her.
Chapter 3
Cal moved from the bedroom window just in case Nikki decided to look his way. She didn’t seem quite as confident as she had right before she went inside the outhouse.
Big city had just met country and it hadn’t been pretty.
Not that he could blame her for looking a little shaken. You couldn’t pay him to go inside an outhouse. In fact, he didn’t know why anyone, other than Nikki, would want to stay at the old homestead, but there were actually people who did. If they felt that compelled to know how it was done in the early days, they could read a book.
But Cal knew her reason, and he had her number. She hated it here. He grinned. That was pretty much a gimme and had been from the moment she’d laid eyes on the place. This wasn’t part of whatever bargain she’d cut with her editor. He expected Nikki to walk straight through the house, out to her car, and never look back.
Good-bye reporter.
Damned shame, though. If the circumstances were different, he’d have liked to get to know her better. She was a looker, with her short, dark hair and those pouty lips that were made for kissing.
If that wasn’t enough, her breasts were full. The kind that were made for cupping, massaging. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined how they would feel.
And she had great legs. Long and sexy. He bit back a groan as he imagined them wrapping around him and pulling him in closer, deeper. Images filled his mind. Her naked. Him naked. Together. On the bed.
He could barely draw in a steady breath when he heard the back door slam. Man, if his fantasies about her were this good, what would the real thing be like? Not that he’d ever find out. The outhouse was enough to scare anyone away.
He waited for the front door to slam.
It didn’t.
He frowned.
Why wasn’t she leaving? Any normal woman would’ve already run screaming from the cabin. But then, Jeff had told him they called her the barracuda.
Maybe she was. The cabin hadn’t scared her off. Bandit was an unplanned bonus. The raccoon should’ve had her running out the front door, but she’d only made it as far as his arms. Damn, she’d felt nice pressed against him, her body trembling. And she’d smelled nice, like exotic flowers.
But he hadn’t been able to contain his laughter. Barracuda? Nah, she’d been more like a little harmless goldfish. Well, at least until she’d realized he thought the situation was funny. She hadn’t liked that very much. Her eyes had flashed their annoyance.
He kind of liked her annoyed. Sexy as hell. He wouldn’t mind spending time getting to know her a little better. Except for the fact she still wanted to fry his ass and he wasn’t about to let that happen. So maybe it was time to bring out the big guns, or in this case the broom. Cynthia had turned up her nose at doing any kind of manual labor. Heaven forbid she break a fingernail.
What would Nikki’s reaction be?
He went into the living room. He could hear her mumbling to herself in the kitchen. He couldn’t make out the words, though. On the other hand, he might not want to know.
“Having trouble?” he asked.
She jumped and whirled around. “This thing is out of water.” She waved her hand at the pump.
“Did you lift the handle up, then push it down?”
She squared her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her. “Yes, but it didn’t do anything.”
Cal had to at least give her credit for sticking around this long-reporter or not. He’d give her until the end of the day. By the time he finished with her, she’d be glad to give up trying to get a story and run back to the city.
He raised the handle and pushed it down several times before water began to flow. Without so much as a thank-you, she washed her hands, then shook them dry.
He should’ve known she wouldn’t lower herself to his level. Jeff had said her parents were lawyers. That meant money. Maybe not as rich as Cynthia, but he’d bet his last dollar she’d never had to suffer any kind of hardship.
Man, he needed to get away to clear his head. “I’m going back to the ranch to get something to cover the hole
