He handed her the flashlight. There was still some light outside, but in here it was pretty dark. Luckily his boat had a stash of emergency tools, like the flashlight. “There’s some dry clothes in the bedroom, though they’re going to be big on you. And if no one moved it, there should be a battery-operated lantern on the nightstand. It could take me a minute to get the generator going. And there are towels in the bathroom.”

“Good.” She was shivering, and he wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms. It wasn’t the best idea since he was drenched, too.

He moved back outside and slogged across the yard to the small shed where they kept fishing supplies and the generator that powered the cabin. It didn’t take him more than a few minutes to figure out that the asshole who’d stayed at the cabin last had used up all the gas and not bothered to replace it.

He really hated Charles in that moment, because it had been his cousin who cavalierly left the next person in the dark.

He cursed and searched the whole shed, but there wasn’t a drop of gas to be had, and he couldn’t siphon it off from the boat. They would need it to get back to the marina.

He checked his cell, but he knew what he would find.

No bars.

They were stuck, and if the rain kept up, they might be stuck here all night. There wasn’t a landline. They were on their own.

Should he view this whole thing as the universe’s answer? No, Rene. You don’t get the girl. You get the money and the power and privilege, but you don’t get the one thing you actually want.

Or maybe she would think the whole debacle was a charming adventure. Cold and wet, but somewhat romantic. He could still build a fire, and there were candles inside. Sure, they would end up eating whatever was in the pantry, but the housekeeper came out once a month and made sure there were staples. He hoped Sylvie didn’t mind canned chili.

Of course, if this storm had happened two days from now, the gas would have been restocked.

All the bad things in his life lately seemed to go right back to his cousin.

He shook off the irritation. The last thing Sylvie needed was to be bombarded by his anger. He intended to carefully hide that from her. She never needed to know he was a walking ball of rage.