Holiday Hideout

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  He was right. They’d had their hard days as well as their easy ones, and it had been Tahoe and this cabin that had changed everything for them. It had become their special hideaway, the cabin that had rekindled their love, making it grow and change, bonds forged stronger than before. They used to spend all their free time up here, but once their extended family grew too big to fit, they started renting it out. And that turned out to be quite an experience, because it wasn’t long before renters would report back that they’d either found or rekindled romance in the cabin.

  Being scientists, Ken and Jillian had decided to more formally investigate their hypothesis that something…well, something romantic was up with the cabin.

  “They’re perfect for our study, you know,” Jillian said.

  Ken scowled, not even pretending that he didn’t understand. “In case you didn’t notice, only Josh is here.”

  “Okay, so we let Josh stay here. It’s serendipity that we don’t have a renter for New Year’s this year, and I’m sure he could use the break.”

  “And Cleo? You’re just going to drop the idea of bringing them together?”

  “Do you think I should?”

  “If I said yes, would you listen?”

  She feigned shock. “Of course I’d listen. And then I’d do exactly what I’d planned.”

  “Then I guess I might as well get on board.” He took the tray from her with a smile. “Besides, they deserve the same shot we had.” His eyes narrowed. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Me?” she asked innocently. “I’m not going to do anything. Except maybe have a teensy little talk with Josh. After all, he’s going to be staying in the cabin for a few days. And he’s an inquisitive young man who took a number of sociology courses. I’m sure he’d be fascinated to know the history of the cabin. Its lore. Its secrets.”

  Ken was fighting a smile when he said, “We agreed not to let the renters know the theory in advance. That would skew the data.”

  “We did,” she agreed. “Good thing Josh isn’t one of our renters. He’s just a friend who needs a cabin for the holiday. And a nudge,” she added. “He just needs an itty-bitty nudge.”

  Ken could no longer hold back a smile as Jillian walked out to the porch, offered Josh a cookie and said, “I have a crazy idea…”

  “I THINK YOU’RE ALL SET,” Stephanie Evans said, looking over at Cleo from where she sat on the couch, hunched over a laptop.

  Cleo was at the oak desk that dominated her living room, her eyes swimming from reading a series of reports regarding the quality of gold ore produced in one of the Argentine mines. She looked up, grateful for the distraction. “You got all those depositions input?”

  Stephanie laughed. “It’s not that hard to input them into the system. You stick to practicing law—I’ll stick to doing the stuff behind the scenes.”

  Stephanie worked as a paralegal at the firm, and she and Cleo had become good friends the first week that Cleo had come on board. A friendship that was well proven by the fact that Stephanie had come over in the middle of her holiday to load Cleo’s laptop up. “You know you’re a saint, right?”

  “Ha!” Stephanie said. “If I were a saint I would have done this before you left for your mom’s instead of waiting until you got back.”

  True enough. Cleo had spent Christmas and a couple more days with her mother in Seattle, having a wonderful time hanging out and pretending that she didn’t want to be prepping for the case. And, yes, using her mother’s internet connection to try to track down a testifying expert witness or two.

  But before she could even talk to those witnesses, she needed to understand the science. Which meant she had to get her consulting expert in place first—he or she would be her guide through the wilds of ore and mining. It was important that a consultant know the business, but also be patient. A teacher. And unfortunately for Cleo, she’d known the best person for the job even before she opened her laptop and started surfing—Josh Goodson. Awkward much?

  “You ought to just call him,” Stephanie said, demonstrating just how good a friend she was by, apparently, reading Cleo’s mind. She took a sip of wine. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You’ve told me five times that your old boyfriend understands the mining business backward and forward. Give him a call. Ask if he’ll consult. What’s the big?”

  “It just seems so out of the blue. We’ve barely communicated in years, and then—poof!—I’m asking him for a favor?”

  “Presumably the firm will pay him,” Stephanie said reasonably.

  “I think it would be awkward.” She didn’t tell Stephanie that she and Josh had once planned to meet in just a few days. Five years. New Year’s Eve. But that plan had clearly been abandoned. No one just showed up at a Lake Tahoe motel for a date scheduled five years prior without an email or a phone call or a letter. And yet at the same time, that long-ago date was a big elephant in the room. She couldn’t ever talk to Josh again without mentioning it. And she certainly couldn’t call him this week to ask about mining when that five-year plan was hanging above their heads flashing like a neon sign.

  She frowned, suddenly picturing a neon elephant. Maybe she was working too hard.

  “Cleo?”

  She shook her head. “Not happening,” she said to Stephanie. “But grab your coat and I’ll buy you a drink. We should celebrate.”

  “Celebrate what?”

  “That you got the depositions into the database. That my eyes didn’t fall out reading those reports. That it’s almost the end of the year. Anything you want.”

  “When you put it like that…” Stephanie stood. “Want to call Perry and some of the guys?”

  “Nah,” Cleo said, then shrugged when Stephanie glanced at her sideways. “This can be a girls’ night.” That sounded reasonable enough, but the truth was, she was thinking of Josh. And she’d rather keep her Josh memories away from her current Perry reality—whatever that reality was.

  They headed out the door, thoughts of the case dropped in favor of a serious discussion about what they were wearing to Mr. Jameson’s party on New Year’s Eve, and where they should go right then for a drink and some appetizers. They were about to push through the double glass doors that fronted Cleo’s building when the doorman signaled to her.

  “Got a letter for you. Just arrived by courier.”

  Cleo eyed Stephanie. “Duty calls.” Probably something about the case. For the most part, Leon hadn’t been bugging her too much—he’d been the one who insisted she not work over the holidays, after all—but he had sent her a few documents, along with some random emails listing various notes and tasks. This time, he’d probably sent her testimony excerpts. She’d mentioned that she wanted to read some deposition testimony given by a few of the experts she had on her preliminary list. No way was she putting someone on the stand who either came off poorly or who had argued the other side of the case in another litigation.

  But she knew the moment the doorman handed her the envelope that this wasn’t testimony. It was a Federal Express envelope and it felt as if there was nothing in it at all. The return address was from a shipping service, referenced by a client number, so she didn’t know who the package had come from. She ripped it open and found a small envelope inside. It simply had her name on it.

  Stephanie peered over her shoulder. “Wedding invitation. Or someone’s graduation.”

  “By courier?”

  “Maybe they really want you to come to the wedding?”

  Cleo slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and tugged on the card. A simple piece of fine, embossed card stock. Stephanie was probably right about the wedding.

  But as soon as the card came free, Cleo knew that she was wrong. An invitation, yes. A wedding, no. It read:

  Cleo,

  It’s been five years.

  I hope you remember what that means.

  Josh

  Beneath the message there was an address, but Cleo barely noticed it. For that matter, Cleo barely noti
ced anything. Her heart was pounding too loud, and her hand was actually shaking.

  “Cleo?” Stephanie frowned at her. “What is it?” She didn’t wait for Cleo to answer. She took the card then whistled.

  Cleo nodded, as if the whistle had expressed a complete thought. She supposed in a way it had. Steph’s sharp note pretty much summed up Cleo’s feelings at the moment.

  She read the words again, trying to intuit some meaning. They were dry. Not romantic. Not overly friendly. Not sentimental.

  She wondered what that meant.

  “We said that we’d meet no matter what. Even if we were just catching up. Just two friends seeing where the other had gone in life.” She passed Steph the card. “Is that what he—”

  “I don’t know,” Stephanie said. “It’s not exactly a love poem, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Well, it’s like an omen, don’t you think?”

  Cleo squinted, trying to figure out what her friend was talking about.

  “I mean, you were just saying you couldn’t call him out of the blue and talk about the case. And here he is, contacting you. So it wouldn’t be out of the blue. And the card does seem…steady.”

  “Steady?” Cleo repeated.

  “You know. Like he genuinely wants to see you. Wants to catch up. And that’s good, right? Because that means you can still work with him.”

  “Right,” Cleo said, but a heavy knot was forming in her stomach at the words work with him. But why? Was it because she was nervous about asking him to consult for the case? Or was it because she’d secretly hoped that if they had a reunion, it would be about more than just catching up and sorting out business?

  “So what are you going to do?” Stephanie was peering into her face so intently that Cleo felt a bit like one of those bugs in a glass jar.

  “I’m going to go to Tahoe,” she said before she could talk herself out of it. “Like you said, it’s an omen. And I need a witness.”

  “And you want to see him again,” Stephanie prompted.

  Cleo hesitated then nodded. “Yeah,” she admitted to her best friend. “I do.”

  OUTSIDE OF THE AIRPORT, Reno was dry and sunny, a nice change from the icy slush she’d left behind in Washington. Because she’d waited until the last minute, she hadn’t been able to get an early flight, and she’d arrived in Reno in the late afternoon on December 30. She snagged an SUV from the rental car place, just in case there was snow, and set out toward the mountains. And Josh.

  Normally, the drive would be relaxing. The subtle shift from desert to mountain. The evergreens. The smattering of snow that grew to a fluffy white blanket as she climbed higher. It was beautiful—nature at its finest—and while she loved winters in D.C., she’d missed the pure beauty of the mountains while living among towering steel and concrete.

  Beautiful, inspirational…and she couldn’t enjoy any of it. She was just too darn antsy. Nerves. After all, she hadn’t seen him in years. She didn’t know what he’d been up to, if they’d still get along, if that spark between them would still be there.

  No. She shook her head, dispelling all memories of their college years. There hadn’t been the slightest hint of romance in the card he’d sent. And as she’d told Stephanie when her friend had dropped her at the airport, that was a good thing. Because Cleo had a huge case to focus on. And a confusing relationship with Perry. So a romantic New Year’s rendezvous with Josh would be one complication too many.

  She’d only come because she’d made a promise…and, yes, because she needed a witness. Which meant that this was a business trip. Cleo kept repeating that to herself as she wheeled her way up the mountain.

  She made exceptional time—probably because her foot was like a lead weight on the accelerator—and went straight to the Tahoe Oasis. When she saw it had burned down, she realized why Josh had included an address. He’d scoped the place out, found a different location for their rendezvous and had been kind enough to send it. Good on him.

  It took Cleo a while to find the nicely secluded cabin, following the twists and turns dictated by the on-board GPS system. By the time she arrived, the sky was orange with the setting sun, and a gentle snow was starting to fall.

  Idly she wondered if Josh had thought to bring candles, then immediately banished the idea.

  Business. Friendship. Catching up.

  That was all good. That, she could handle.

  She shifted the Jeep into park and took a breath. The cabin looked empty. No car in the driveway, no Welcome Cleo banner strung across the front porch.

  She ignored the tiny lump of disappointment in her throat. Instead, she told herself that it was fortunate that Josh wasn’t here—it would give her time to look around, to get the feel of the place. To settle in before he came back. Most likely he was at the market, buying cheese and crackers and fruit and chocolate.

  She’d go in, make herself at home and surprise him when he returned. He’d be thrilled she was there, right? After all, he was the one who’d invited her.

  What was so nerve-racking about that?

  Nothing, right? Right.

  With her mind made up and her nerves battled into submission, she opened the car door and slid out. She grabbed her purse but left her luggage. Time enough for that later.

  The front porch was charming and cozy, the two chairs and chiminea giving it a casual, lived-in feel, and for the first time, Cleo wondered if this was Josh’s home. The last she’d heard, he was still in Carlin at the mining company. But that was at least a year ago, and a lot of things could change in a year.

  She might be expected, but walking straight in seemed too forward, so she rapped on the door. Nobody answered, which wasn’t a huge surprise considering she’d already figured he was away running errands. With any luck, he’d hid a key for her or just left the door unlocked.

  She tried the knob, certain she couldn’t be that lucky, and was surprised when it turned in her hand. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  Instantly, she knew she’d love staying here. The cabin was cozy, but not tiny. Warm and inviting. A fire burned in the fireplace, and she frowned, wondering what possessed Josh to leave with a fire still burning.

  She stepped farther inside and caught the scent of an Italian sauce—tomatoes, oregano, basil. She turned in the direction of the kitchen and gasped when she saw a simple table covered with a red-checkered tablecloth. A candle burned in an empty wine bottle, the wax snaking down. A basket of bread sat on the table, right next to another bottle of wine, this one full and uncorked. Two places were set.

  And that’s when she noticed the music. Very low, almost inaudible. But oh, so familiar. “That’s Amore.”

  She realized that her hand had crept to her mouth, her pulse had increased and she was holding back tears as her senses went into overdrive—he’d created the tiny restaurant they’d visited on their very first date.

  And what a date it had been. She’d had a personal rule never to eat spaghetti on a date—because, really, how can you do it neatly?—but the restaurant was such a dive that they’d had no choice. That was all that was on the menu.

  It hadn’t mattered, though. It had been perfect. They’d drunk wine and eaten bread and twirled spaghetti on their forks as they’d talked about their lives and their plans.

  And it was only after the date that they both realized the similarities to Lady and the Tramp—the song, the spaghetti, the tablecloth.

  “Hey, Lady.”

  The soft voice came from behind her, and she twirled without hesitation. “Hey, Tramp.”

  The words were out of her mouth, easy and comfortable, before she saw where he was standing and what he was wearing—in the bathroom doorway in nothing but a pair of tight, low-slung jeans, giving her a picture-perfect view of his tight abs and broad, glistening shoulders. Suffice it to say that he hadn’t let his body go soft after college.

  “I was actually planning on being fully dressed when you got here.”

  �
�It is the conventional way to greet people,” she said. She glanced between him and the tiny kitchen, and all those decadent thoughts that she’d pushed to the back of her mind came right to the front again.

  Stop it, Cleo.

  She’d come to talk business.

  Josh, apparently, had much more romantic ideas.

  Which meant that this holiday had taken a very sharp turn toward awkward.

  CHAPTER THREE

  She’d come.

  He realized only then that he’d feared that she wouldn’t. That when Jillian had suggested sending her the car d with the cabin’s address, he’d merely been tilting at windmills.

  He’d told himself when he’d sent the courier off that only two results were possible—one, she didn’t want any sort of future with him and would fail to show. Or two, that she’d understand that this getaway represented a second chance for the two of them, and by getting on a plane and coming, that she was silently agreeing to take that chance.

  Josh hadn’t realized just how much he wanted that second chance with Cleo until Jillian had told him the wild story about the cabin. As crazy as it sounded, the little retreat seemed to bring couples together—forging new bonds and repairing worn relationships.

  He would have dismissed Jillian’s theory out of hand, except that he had too much respect for both Ken and Jillian, and they were both saying the same thing. More than that, they were saying that he could have the cabin for his reunion with Cleo.

  He wasn’t sure if it was their suggestion to send the card, or if he’d thought of that on his own. All he knew was that as soon as the idea was in his head, he’d had to do it. All his reservations about not knowing whether she’d have come without a push faded from his mind when he considered the possibility—however wild and crazy—that getting Cleo into this cabin would also mean getting Cleo.