Chapter 5 How To Commit Three Felonies Before Breakfast.
I wake with a start as something pokes me in the face. Naturally, I do the only logical thing possible— I scream bloody murder while flailing like a possessed blanket burrito.
“Oh, shit—fuck—shit!” a deep voice curses somewhere in front of me.
There’s a loud crash, a very undignified thump, and then—
“Woman! Would you stop that? I’m fairly sure I’m the one who’s supposed to freak out when someone breaks into my house, eats my dinner, and sleeps in my bed!”
That snaps me right back to reality. Oh. Right. I did do all of that. This is not my tower. Shit.
Untangling myself from the sheets, I sit up slowly, hair a wild halo of knots, and try to look… civilised. I smooth down my dress (pointless), clear my throat, and summon what’s left of my dignity before daring to look up— and up— and up—at the very large, very broad, very bearded man currently standing with his back pressed against the wall like he’s deciding whether to fight me or call the local exorcist.
“I… uh… hi,” I manage, flashing my most awkward smile.
“And hello to you, woman in my house,” he says flatly.
“Oh! Right, yes.” I scramble to my feet, nearly tripping on the blanket, and cross the room in a rush. “I’m Bella.” I thrust my hand out like that somehow makes this less illegal. He stares at it, brow furrowing as though he’s assessing whether a handshake might get him cursed. Or bitten.
“You are?” I try again, voice pitching a little higher than I’d like.
Finally, his own massive hand engulfs mine. One firm, slightly suspicious shake.
“Travis,” he says gruffly, then folds his arms across his chest.
The firelight makes him look even bigger, shadows clinging to his jaw, eyes dark and sharp. I take a few strategic steps back so I can breathe without craning my neck.
“So,” he says, tone dry enough to freeze water. “Want to explain what the hell’s going on here?”
“Right. Of course. Well, you see…” I gesture vaguely toward the window, where the morning sun glints weakly off a mountain of snow blanketing the ground. The storm has stopped now, leaving the world buried and sparkling. “I was out there.”
He glances at the window, then back at me like I’ve just said I live on Mars.
“I got lost,” I continue quickly, words tumbling over each other. “And then I saw a light through the storm, so I followed it here. I did knock! I swear I knocked. Twice, even. But there was no answer.”
“So you just… let yourself in?” he asks, voice flat as stone.
I open my mouth, ready to defend myself, but the excuses all sound terrible in my head. I close it again. Open it once more, hoping something intelligent will come out. Nothing.
Finally, I sigh, shoulders slumping. “Yes. I just… came in.”
He crosses his arms tighter, watching me with that unreadable expression men get when they’re trying very hard not to laugh or strangle someone. I stare down at my bare feet, guilt crawling up my throat. Great. My first real human interaction in over a decade, and I’ve already committed breaking, entering, and soup theft. Way to go, Bella.
He lets out a low huff, rubbing the back of his neck. “Snowstorm was brutal last night. Came out of nowhere.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, not looking up. “Weird, right?”
“Made me hole up in the mountains for hours until it settled,” he continues, squinting at me like he’s replaying every oddity of the night. “Didn’t expect to come back and find an intruder making herself at home.”
I force out a nervous laugh. “Technically, I was just… borrowing your home. Temporarily.”
His brow lifts. “Borrowing.”
“Yeah. You know, like when you… uh… borrow a cup of sugar. Or a whole bed. Or dinner.”
He just stares.
I smile weakly, fingers twisting in the hem of my soaked dress. “I’m a really bad criminal, huh?”
He snorts. “You said it, not me.”
I glance around the cabin, scanning the room like a criminal looking for evidence—except my “evidence” is a tiny lizard with terrible timing. Gilfred has a habit of wandering off at the worst possible moments. Probably best we leave before I make this situation worse.
“Lose something?” Travis rumbles.
“Oh, uh, just my friend,” I say quickly, still peering under the table. “If I can just find him, we’ll get out of your hair.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and I realise, belatedly, how that must have sounded. The cabin’s barely big enough for three people to stand without bumping elbows; if there was someone else here, it’s not like they’d be hiding behind the curtain.
“He’s a gecko,” I clarify, with the kind of smile you give when you’re aware of how unhinged you sound.
“Ah,” Travis says simply, reaching into the front pocket of his jacket. When his hand comes out, it’s holding one very smug-looking Gilfred. “This little guy was all up in my business when I came in.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, taking my tiny partner in crime back. Gilfred climbs my arm like a prince ascending his throne and perches on my shoulder, flicking his tail toward Travis in what can only be described as lizard judgment.
“Yes, yes, I know,” I whisper. “Manners.”
I look up at Travis again, forcing a polite smile. “Well. I’m terribly sorry for my crimes. Breaking, entering, dinner theft, unauthorised bed usage. Truly, I’ll never do it again.”
I take a cautious step toward the door, but before I can reach it, one very large, very solid arm extends across the frame, blocking my path.
“Wait,” Travis says.
I freeze, eyes widening. The man could probably crush me with a pinky.
He seems to realise it too, because he instantly lowers his arm, rubbing the back of his neck like a man who’s just remembered how terrifyingly big he actually is.
“Didn’t mean to—uh—loom,” he mutters. “Just… been a while since I had company out here. Still pretty cold, and you don’t exactly look dressed for the weather. Maybe you’d like to… steal some more food and wait till it warms up before you head out?”
I blink up at him. “So… you’re inviting me to commit additional crimes?”
His mouth twitches. “Guess I am.”
Gilfred makes a squeaky sound, which I swear is laughter.
And despite everything—the storm, the awkwardness, the felony—I find myself smiling too.