Chapter 8
The cottage on Carlyle Lake wasn’t anybody’s definition of luxury accommodations.
Shiny new hardwood floors that looked suspiciously like laminate, paired with a sofa and loveseat that might be real leather. A fireplace that was too clean to be anything except gas, with an arrangement of logs realistic enough that Doug still had to look twice.
At the back of the compact room—Quinn probably would have deemed it cozy—a remarkably efficient kitchenette waited for the half-hearted culinary efforts he had planned for the week. He could stand in one spot and reach the range, sink, and refrigerator.
Not designed for cooking with a family, or even two people who weren’t already pretty cozy themselves, but the sparkling stainless steel and black granite would be a snap to keep clean.
