I climb the steps that lead up to the wraparound porch, a little embarrassed by the mockery in his voice, and admire the log exterior and tall windows. It’s pretty. Rustic. The door is unlocked, and Koen opens it without knocking or announcing himself. Must belong to someone he’s close to— a friend or a second or a girlfriend.
Does he? Have a girlfriend? Is that why he was so dismissive, when—
“Why do you smell so worried all of a sudden?” he asks, ushering me inside.
“Nothing.” I take a few hesitant steps, wondering if I’ll be mistaken for a home-wrecking intruder and deboned. What a way to go that would be. But I doubt it’ll be mine, because with my first deep breath, I know who the cabin belongs to.
“You live here,” I tell Koen. Accusingly. His scent is everywhere. It coats every ob
