Then he remembered the sociology experiment that Ken and Jillian had going on and groaned. Of course. He and Beth were part of the study. Now, there was a spooky thought. Was everything he was feeling just the cabin mojo screwing with his mind?
No. He’d rather believe in love at first sight than magic cabins. Ken and Jillian were convinced the cabin had saved their marriage, but Mac thought it more likely that all they’d needed was a secluded spot to concentrate on each other. They could have been in the middle of the Sahara or on top of Mount Rushmore.
And their renters were discovering romance in the cabin for the same reason—it created a sense of intimacy.
But that didn’t explain his mind-set. He’d spent time with women in similar cabins, including his own, and never felt this urgent compulsion to bond.
Still, the Vickers’ cabin was a charmer. Whoever had designed it originally had made the front half open and cheery, with the living room and kitchen blending into each other, and the back half cozy and…yes…romantic, with only one bedroom and one bath opening off it.
The king-size bed was massive and rustic. Jillian had found a bedspread made out of soft velour. Mac had run his hand over it once and it felt incredible. For the bathroom, Ken had located an oversize claw-foot tub and Mac had installed it as an anniversary present.
Considering the amenities, not to mention the hot tub on the back porch, Mac could easily see why couples left feeling more loving toward each other than when they’d arrived. He’d mention all that when he explained the experiment to Beth. She deserved to know that they were guinea pigs.
For now, though, he should head over there before she wondered if he’d run off into a ditch. Leaving the engine running, he navigated around the snowdrifts on his front porch and unlocked the front door. Once inside, he walked quickly to the bathroom and took the box of condoms from the cabinet under the sink. He tucked them into his coat pocket and started to leave.
He was nearly out the door when he realized that he’d have to return with something else that would justify his trip home. Arriving at her front door with a box of condoms in hand was just not classy.
So what to take back to her? Wine would be great—if he had any, which he didn’t. A six-pack of beer wouldn’t work if she favored wine. His fruit bowl on the counter held two overripe bananas. They needed to be eaten, but showing up with a couple of brownish bananas didn’t strike the right note.
His refrigerator wasn’t much help. It contained half a loaf of wheat bread, six eggs, an open quart of milk, some leftover microwave lasagna and the beer. He’d deliberately let his food supplies dwindle because his mother always loaded him up with leftovers.
He didn’t have much in his cupboards—crackers that were probably stale by now, a few cans of soup, a can of regular coffee and some boxed macaroni and cheese. None of that cried out Hostess Gift. Instead it cried out Bachelor Who Doesn’t Cook.
He considered making up some story that he’d left his TV or his coffeepot on. But then he could have just said that as he was leaving her place. Instead, he’d dashed out as if his tail was on fire.
Turning on a light in his small living room, he glanced around. Reading material? That would be lame, as if he had to bring along his own entertainment. And then he spied his stack of board games.
She might not care for board games, but he did. He took the combination checkers/chess set and Sorry!, one of his favorites because it wasn’t rocket science. She might think he was a dork for disappearing abruptly and then returning with board games, but he’d brave it out.
The return trip was hairy, and he almost skidded off the pavement twice. Not many vehicles were on the road, which was lucky because at times he needed to go smack down the middle of it. He could see the lights of snowplows down on the main highway, but they wouldn’t get up here tonight.
That meant he could be snowed in all night with Beth, whether they wanted to be that cozy or not. If he’d guessed wrong about her interest in him, he could always take the couch. Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell his mother a little white lie about road conditions, after all.
As he pulled up in front of the Vickers’ cabin, he decided to make that call to his mother before he forgot. Particularly since forgetting was a distinct possibility once he focused on Beth. He got his mother on the first ring.
“Conneach, I’ve been thinking about you. How’s the weather up your way?”
“That’s why I’m calling, Mom. It’s blizzard conditions. I doubt seriously I’ll be able to get out of here tomorrow.”
“Oh, Conneach. What a disappointment.”
Guilt stabbed him, but he wasn’t going to back down after proclaiming to Beth that he was joining her for a feast of independence. “I’m disappointed, too, but I know you don’t want me on the road if it’s dangerous.”
“No, of course I don’t. If anything changes, come on, anyway. We’ll have plenty of food.”
“I know, but don’t count on me.”
“We could postpone until the next day. Your dad’s closing the office on Friday, which means Stephanie will be off, too.”
Mac hoped he wouldn’t go to hell for lying to his mother. He couldn’t very well tell her he’d met the woman of his dreams, even if that turned out to be the truth. “I promised a customer I’d install some new bathroom lighting on Friday, Mom. Sorry about that.”
“Then I’ll package up the leftovers and keep them until you can make it down here. What’s your food situation? Will you have enough to eat?”
“I’ll be fine. The casinos will be open, don’t forget. I can walk there if I have to.”
“All right. We’ll miss you, but you can meet Stephanie another time. Call if you get the chance, but if I don’t talk to you, Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Same to you, Mom.” He disconnected the call, picked up the board games and opened his door.
A jolt of happiness hit him at the thought of seeing Beth again. It seemed like ages since he’d left.
WHEN BETH HEARD MAC’S TRUCK pull up, she took the pizza out of the oven, found a pizza cutter and shoved it through the slightly hardened crust. The pizza was a little dried out and not terribly hot, but his trip had taken way longer than she’d expected. She was curious about what he’d gone after in such a hurry, and she hoped he’d say.
But if he didn’t, she resolved not to pry. After all, they’d just met. She couldn’t expect him to lay bare all his secrets right off the bat.
Once she had the pizza cut, she stoked the fire, thinking he’d knock on the door any second. When he didn’t, she wondered what was keeping him, but she’d be damned if she’d go to the window and peer out. She stuck the pizza pan back in the oven and poked at the fire some more.
This was exactly what she disliked about getting involved with a man. Instead of doing her own thing as she’d planned, she was hanging around waiting for him to come through the door. He’d given her no reason for his errand, and now he was sitting out in his truck while the pizza got cold.
She’d decided to take the pizza out and start eating, when his knock sounded. Annoyed at herself for allowing this situation to interrupt her plans, she walked over and opened the door.
He stood there, tall, broad-shouldered and beautiful as ever, his coat collar turned up and snow in his hair. His blue gaze was apologetic. “Sorry. Everything took longer than I thought it would. Just now I was calling my mom to cancel for tomorrow. She would have panicked if I hadn’t shown up and not told her I couldn’t make it.”
Her irritation ebbed a little. She stepped back