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It was out there somewhere, though.
And so was Sinjin.
Of that, she was sure.
A knock sounded upon her door. She got up, and when she opened it, her eyes went wide.
The man standing there wasn’t stuffy or stodgy, and he sure wasn’t old.
“Miss Dalton.” He extended his hand.
Stunned, Breanna shook it.
“Derek St. John.”
His hair was dark, a rich milk chocolate with some lighter strands and glints of red from time spent outdoors—judging by his suntanned skin. It wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either, the ends barely touching his collar. Full and thick, it was probably wavy too, except she could tell he used plenty of products to tame it.
Brown eyes that were not the color of whiskey.
Short beard, neatly trimmed.
A pair of smart, plaid chinos, leather loafers—Prada or Gucci, no doubt—and a cashmere crewneck sweater that probably cost more than her monthly car payment. Derek St. John could be considered handsome, Breanna supposed, though not typically so.
Her palm sweating, she let go. “Breanna. Nice to meet you, Mr. St. John.”
“Breanna then.” He swept the hair back from her forehead. “Ouch. We’ve got someone coming to take a look at that.”
“Randall.”
“Yes, he’ll be by this evening.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “And we don’t have to be so formal, do we? Call me Derek.”
Okayyy.
“How did you ever make it to that cabin?”
“Blind faith.” And a dark savior. “Francie thinks I must have a guardian angel looking out for me.”
“I’m inclined to agree with her,” Derek said, rubbing a lock of her hair between his fingers. Taking a step back, he let it go. “Do you feel all right? Have everything you need?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” And with a nod, she smiled. “Except the charger for my phone is in my car. I don’t suppose there’s an extra one around here?”
“iPhone?”
“Yes.”
“I can get you one.”
“Thank you.” With a sigh of relief, Breanna fiddled with the cuff of her sweater. “Kayleigh, my roommate, will worry if she can’t get a hold of me, and I’m going to have to call my mom to tell her about my car.”
And that was not going to go over very well.
“She doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“No?” His brow lifted, and he smirked. “Why not?”
“Because I didn’t want to upset her.”
“Oh, I see.” The lawyer stepped inside and sat on the overstuffed sofa, patting the space beside him. “Just know cell service is unreliable up here. It comes and goes depending on the weather, even with a signal booster. Wi-Fi works most of the time, though.”
