A branch rubbed the side of the house. Something rustled in the chimney. She imagined bats lining up for a 5K through the house. Where was Dean? And why couldn’t this place have some doors?

She wished she’d gone to the cottage with April, but she hadn’t been invited. Maybe Blue had been a little heavy-handed, but at least she’d bought Dean’s mother some time, which was more than April had been able to do for herself. The helplessness of the naturally beautiful.

Blue tried to concentrate on being ill-used, but she wasn’t good at lying to herself. She’d interfered with something she should have left alone. On the bright side, dealing with other people’s troubles had distracted her from worrying about her own.

A floorboard creaked. The chimney moaned. She curled her fingers around the handle of the trouble light and stared at the gaping doorway.

Minutes ticked away.

Gradually, her fingers relaxed, and she fell into a restless sleep.

An ominously creaking floorboard jolted her awake. Her eyes shot open to see a menacing shape looming over her. Her hand convulsed around the trouble light. She yanked it from under the covers and swung.

“Shit!” A familiar masculine bellow pierced the night quiet.

Her fingers found the switch. Miraculously the bulb in the plastic cage hadn’t broken, and harsh light flooded the room. A very angry multimillionaire quarterback hovered above her. He was bare-chested, furious, and rubbing his arm just above the elbow. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She shot up in the pillows, trouble light clutched high. “Me? You creep in here—”

“It’s my house. I swear to God, if you screwed up my passing arm…”

“I had the door blocked! How could you sneak up on me like that?”

“Sneak? You had this place lit up like a frickin’ Christmas tree.”

She wasn’t stupid enough to mention the jumping shadows and staring windows. “Only two measly bathroom lights.”

“Plus the kitchen.” He whipped the trouble light from her hands. “Give me that and stop being a chickenshit.”

“Easy for you to say. You weren’t attacked when you were sound asleep.”

“I didn’t attack you.” He flicked off the light, plunging the room into darkness. The insensitive jerk had even turned off the bathroom light.

She heard the whoosh of sliding denim as he pulled off his jeans. She went up on her knees. “You’re not sleeping here.”

“It’s my room, and this is the only bed with sheets.”

“A bed I’m already occupying.”

“And now you have company.” He crawled in.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself he had too big an ego to attack her. If she scrambled around in the dark for another place to sleep, she’d look like a wuss. Show no weakness. “You stay on your side,” she warned him, “or you won’t like the consequences.”