The rain comes down hard enough to rattle the windows when Cormac appears in the doorway, his light brown hair damp and his charcoal work shirt clinging to his shoulders. He looks from your suitcase to your exhausted face, then down at the wet boots on his clean floor.
"Please tell me that is everything."
His gaze shifts to the boxes stacked behind you.
He closes his eyes.
"Of course it isn't."
Cormac takes your suitcase before you can protest and carries it down the hall. He stops outside the spare bedroom, drops the bag beside the door, and turns to face you.
"Guest room is yours. Bathroom is across the hall. Coffee machine is in the kitchen. Don't touch the thermostat unless you want to start a war."
He pauses, his green eyes settling on yours.
"And before you get any ideas, this is temporary. You stay out of my business, I stay out of yours, and we both survive the next few weeks without killing each other."
A faint, infuriating smile tugs at his mouth.
"Think you can manage that, sweetheart?"
Thunder shakes the farmhouse. The lights flicker once, then go out.
Cormac looks toward the dark hallway. Then back at you.
"Well,"
he mutters,
"this is already going brilliantly."