Her Sexy Stranger

USA Today bestselling author Rebecca Hefner writing as Ayla Asher

Megan Feeney finally gathered the courage to travel to the quaint Irish town where her grandmother was born. Excited to have a break from work and experience the St. Patrick’s Day celebrations, she’s shocked to emerge from the shower and find a sexy stranger standing in the foyer of her vacation rental. 

Running a thriving travel blog
keeps Jared Spencer busy, allowing him to roam the world free and unattached. But when he discovers a stunning woman in his rented cottage, he wonders if fate might have other plans. 

Before they can find other
accommodations, a massive thunderstorm rolls in, stranding Megan and Jared
together in the romantic cabin. Before long, they’re both fighting mutual desire. After all, there’s only one bed, and keeping each other warm during the downpour does have its perks…

Megan Feeney exited the car and handed the bald driver with a thick Irish accent a stack of euros. “Thanks so much for the lovely conversation,” she said, careful not to indicate she’d only understood every third word or so.
The man gave her a kind salute and thrust his card into her hand.
“The storm’s coming in whether we like it or not, ma’am. Call me if you need assistance. You’re quite far from Kenmare out here.”
“Will do,” she said, giving him a nod and clutching her suitcase before closing the door. Quite far from civilization was exactly what she was looking for.
Approaching the small cottage, which she’d procured through a house-share app, she entered the code on the lockbox and pushed open the creaky wooden door. The inside smelled of gingerbread and cinnamon, spurring her lips to curve. It reminded her of Grandma Kat’s house and brought comfort to her travel-weary bones.
Once inside, Megan noticed the small, functional kitchen and large living room with a withered but clean couch, a fireplace and a double bed off in the far corner. It was a tiny home without separate bedrooms, and that suited her just fine since she’d be the only one residing here for the next week. Setting the suitcase on the chair at the foot of the bed, she began to unpack.
The afternoon sun had long been swallowed by the clouds of the impending storm. She’d overheard travelers’ conversations at Cork Airport indicating the downpour would be massive. Of course, Ireland had to greet her with its biggest storm in decades when she’d finally gained the courage to travel solo and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in the ancestral town of her grandmother’s family.
Just freaking great.
Straightening her shoulders, Megan reminded herself not to focus on the negatives. She was in a beautiful country she’d always longed to visit. She’d worked hard to save up the money to travel here and the weather, or any other deterrents, be damned.
Wishing to shed her travel weariness, she removed her clothes and headed into the small bathroom, craving the invigorating warmth of the shower.
* * * *
Jared Spencer assessed the dark clouds as the taxi toiled down the dirt road that led to his rented home. Black and angry, with slight grumbles of thunder, the sky looked as if it could devour him and the tiny cottage in minutes. Glancing around, he noticed the stream that ran behind the house. If it flooded, it would most likely close off the minuscule bridge that connected the gravel road to the main fairway that led back to Kenmare.
Eyes narrowing, he mentally counted the number of granola bars he had in his backpack. Four, plus the apple and banana he’d bought at the Cork Airport. He’d survived on less for days, so even if he ended up stranded in the house, he was pretty sure he’d endure. The host had assured him there was a liquor cabinet and the fridge and pantry would be stocked with essentials, so he pushed the lingering worry away, paid the driver and headed inside.
Closing the squeaky wooden door, he immediately sensed another presence in the cottage. A suitcase lay open at the foot of the bed and the shower seemed to be running behind the bathroom door. Pulling off his pack and setting it beside his carry-on, his eyebrows drew together. Pipes creaked through the old frame of the house as the water seemed to shut off. And then he heard it: the unmistakable sound of a woman humming from behind the closed bathroom door.
Jared stood frozen, unsure until the door swung open and a woman wrapped in a plush blue towel stepped through.
And then, she let out a bloodcurdling scream.