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I wince at the thought of how my hair is going to look in the morning.
I’m just beginning to wash off the suds that are covering me from head to toe when I hear a crack against the side of the house that makes me jump, and then the power goes out.
I scream bloody murder the moment I find myself in the dark with the water beginning to slow to a dribble.
“Help! Help!” I yell out, feeling instantly trapped in the shower enclosure.
I frantically push at the glass door a couple of times in different areas, trying to find the exit. The familiar feeling of an onset panic attack threatens to give way if I don’t get out of here soon.
I hear Seven’s heavy footsteps barreling down the hallway, and now I wish I hadn’t screamed for help, even though knowing he’s close is an unexpected relief.
Finally, I find the handle and lean my entire weight into it as if my whole life depends on my escape.
The glass door gives way in a rush the moment I find the opening, and I’m not prepared for how quickly the shower enclosure dumps me out into the bathroom.
I stumble out like an uncoordinated brand-new baby giraffe in the pitch dark of the bathroom.
I attempt to run for the door, but I forget one tiny detail. Tile floors and wet, soapy feet are a slippery combination.
The moment that my feet connect with the tile, I know I just made a grave mistake, and at that same moment, I hear Seven ram up against the bathroom door, and cash through it with ease as if that door never stood a chance against him.
I yip at his abrupt entry as my feet slide out from under me just as I ram right into Seven's bare chest. Seven swoops in, catching me around my waist with one arm, and hauls me up against his chest to keep me from falling flat on my ass.
The flashlight in his other hand illuminates the room well enough that I know he had to have just seen me completely naked.
I’m now wondering if I will ever forgive Sheridan for booking me on the writer’s retreat from hell.
Chapter Six
Seven
The minute I hear Brynn scream, my eyes fly open, and I realize that the fan in my room and my alarm clock are both off.
We lost power.
Shit.
“Help! Help!” I hear her scream from the bathroom down the hall.
That’s all it takes for me to spring into action.
I’m up and out of bed as fast as I can be, flipping the blanket off of me and getting to my feet.
I reach out quickly, grab the flashlight off my nightstand, and race down the hall toward the bathroom, flicking on the flashlight right before I reach the door.
Did she fall?
Is she hurt?
Something had to have happened for her to call out to me like that.
I run straight for the bathroom door and slam against it when the handle doesn’t turn.
She locked it, obviously.
I give it one more shove with my shoulder, and the door pops open with the splintering sound of wood cracking around the door casing.
I don’t care about the door.
