by Ev Bishop
“Here goes nothing.” Sean climbed three stairs to stand on the deck that wrapped the full perimeter of the house. Bryn followed, holding a sleeping Steve close. Sean knocked three times on the bright blue door in front of him. The holly wreath adorning it rustled cheerily.
Just as he was about to rap once more, the door opened. A stunning blonde, more Hollywood than backwoods BC, appeared. “Yes?” she said.
Sean motioned at Bryn who stood slightly behind him, holding blanket-wrapped Steve tightly. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, but we’ve been travelling all day and now the storm’s gotten the best of us. I know it’s last minute, but do you by any chance have room—”
He was cut off by a chortle of laughter. “Stop, no—you have to be kidding!” The blonde disappeared into the house, and they heard her calling, “Jo, Jo—come quick. You’re never going to believe who’s at the door and what they want.”
“Um,” Bryn whispered almost inaudibly at Sean’s back. “Should we be afraid? Maybe we’ve stumbled upon Little House in the Zombie Woods.”
Chapter 5
Sean laughed at Bryn’s joke, too busy enjoying the seductive heat wafting from the open door and the mouth-watering aroma of garlic and fresh, buttery bread to feel wary. His stomach growled rudely and a huge shiver ran through him. That—his deep chill—almost made him worry. He’d gotten a lot colder during their walk than he’d thought he would. He just hadn’t noticed it earlier because he’d been so busy enjoying Bryn’s company.
“Is anyone else going to come to the door, do you think?” Bryn asked. “And if not, do you think we can make off with some of whatever’s making that glorious smell?”
“I’m game to try if you are,” Sean said as another pretty woman appeared, this one with long wild reddish-gold curls. She was flanked by a tall dark-haired guy about his own age.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You just met my sister Sam. She was reading the Nativity story to her granddaughter and thought your timing and wording was a hilarious coincidence.” The woman must’ve realized that Sean was struggling to keep up. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m Jo. This is my husband Callum. We own River’s Sigh. Sam was saying you need a place to stay tonight?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“You’re in luck. A cabin literally just became available. It was booked, but the folks who reserved it called barely twenty minutes ago to say they can’t make it. The roads are too bad. The cabin doesn’t come with a crib, but my niece has a playpen that might do nicely and she doesn’t mind lending.”
“I’ll grab it for you,” the husband—Callum—volunteered, but Sean was still focused on the first part of Jo’s information.
“Only one room?” he asked.
Bryn stepped closer to the door and sounded equally, if not more, confused. “A crib?”
Jo and Callum exchanged a quick look, then glanced at Sean and Bryn again. “Um, Sam said… Aren’t you a couple, stranded by weather, needing a room for you and your small baby?”
Sean cleared his throat, then got Sam’s joke. Bryn was so covered in snow, she appeared to be wearing robes—and Steve, cuddled close to her chest, could only be described as swaddled. He darted a look at Bryn, but only her gray eyes were visible above her frosty scarf and they gave nothing away. Maybe she didn’t find it funny.
Sean shook his head. “I should’ve been clearer, sorry. We’re here together, but we’re not together-together—and we’re not traveling because of a census or anything.”
Bryn snorted softly behind him and his lip twitched. So she did find the situation at least a little comical, after all. Why was that such a big deal to him, that she wouldn’t be offended?
“We just walked in from the highway—”
Steve chose that moment to wake up and stretch. The blanket twisted dramatically and he let out a weird moaning sound.
Callum was visibly startled. Jo looked surprised too, and a grizzled white, brown and gray mutt appeared from behind her legs.
“It’s—this—is Steve. He’s a dog, not a baby,” Bryn supplied. The blanket vibrated some more, and Steve popped his head out.
Jo laughed almost as hard as Sam had when she first opened the door. “Ah, and that explains Hoover’s interest.”
“I guess this means I don’t have to traipse through the snow with a playpen,” Callum said.
“True,” Jo agreed. “But they’re probably starved. Are you starved?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Do you mind packing them a dinner, sweetie?”
“Absolutely.” Callum disappeared before Sean or Bryn could politely pretend that they couldn’t possibly take their food.
“It’s just leftovers—we had a big family do tonight—but everything was cooked in a restaurant grade kitchen, if you’re hungry.”
“It smells amazing,” Sean said quickly.
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t want you guys to feel like you had to sneak in just to get food.”
Bryn groaned. “I was only joking, I promise.”
“I know that,” Jo said merrily. She grabbed a coat off a hook near the door, then slipped into knee high fur-lined boots. “Let’s get you guys settled… Wait a minute. You said you’re not together? As in you’re not a couple? You mean you want separate accommodations?”
“Yes, please,” Sean and Bryn said as one.
Jo was on the deck now, about to head down the stairs to the parking lot. She looked back and her eyes were big and regretful in the porch light. “I’m really sorry. We only have the one cabin available for tonight and it’s a bachelor—just one bed, I’m afraid. There is a small couch, but…”
Sean looked at Bryn and felt terrible. This was all his fault. She’d dragged herself out of her warm vehicle where she’d been all set to sit out the storm because of his dumb ass driving—and then he’d convinced her to spend almost two hours trekking through the snow. He knew what he had to do, and could only hope he could beg a bit of dinner before he headed back to his lonely cold vehicle.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Bryn, you take the room. I’ll go back to my truck. I’ll be fine.”
Callum appeared in a navy peacoat and thick gray muffler. He was carrying an insulated bag that looked impossibly full for just two people. Sean’s stomach growled louder and Bryn peered at him over her scarf, which had thawed a little in the heat from the doorway. “No, no, don’t be silly. We’ll take the room, Jo. Thank you.”
“Are you sure?” Sean didn’t know if he was flattered or terrified for this woman who approached stranded vehicles in the dead of night and offered to share rooms with virtual strangers.
Bryn nodded. Jo and Callum remained inert, waiting on his reply it seemed.
“Well, if you’re really sure—”
“I am.”
“Then I’ll take the couch.”
“Absolutely, you will,” Bryn said, but there was humor in her voice. “Ah-terrific and I need all the space we can get.”
Sean was feeling gratitude now, not just relief, as he, Bryn and Steve followed Jo and Callum back into the night.
Chapter 6
Although the worst of the storm was over, heavy wet snow continued to fall. Bryn thought Sean looked frozen, almost snowman like—although, admittedly, oxymoron aside, he made a pretty hot snowman.
Trudging along, she could only imagine how awful she’d look when she finally got out of her snow clothes. Nothing special on her best day, exhaustion and exposure to extreme weather were not going to do her dishwater dull hair, blah eyes and pale complexion any favors—not that it should matter. Who cared what she looked like?
She knew the answer too well, even though it was utterly humiliating: she did. There was no way, of course, that Sean would be interested in geeky, weird her… but it would be nice if he wasn’t horrified the first time he laid eyes on her.
As Jo and Callum moved them along the well-groomed trail, describing and naming each cabin they passed, Bryn wondered if she’d lost her mind. What had she been thi
nking, inviting Sean to stay the night in a tiny, one-bed cabin with her? He was a stranger. It didn’t matter how they’d seemed to click during their long walk.
Yet it was the middle of night, the poor guy’s truck was toast, and the temperature would only keep dropping until morning. She was being a good Samaritan.
Uh huh. Right. She just hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea and think she was hitting on him. Was she hitting on him? Errgh, if he gave her some variation of the “you’re a nice person, but” speech, it would be beyond embarrassing. What was the least awkward way for her to open—and close—the subject before he could?
Steve wriggled in her arms and she set him down. He immediately peed then pranced down the trail in front of them.
Sean said something that she didn’t quite hear.
“Pardon?”
“Oh…” He sounded as self-conscious as she felt. “I only said it’s crazy pretty here, hey?”
“Yeah,” she said, and it really was: all snowy trees, twinkly lights and tiny picturesque cabins, most slumbering away in the night, but here or there, one or two with softly glowing windows.
“Here we are.” Jo stopped suddenly on the trail before them. “We call it Trout. It was just finished up a few weeks ago—two nights before the first snowfall, thankfully.” She waved her arm at the tiny cabin. Its porch light was on, illuminating a cranberry red door decorated with a huge wreath of soft pine and ivy. Antique silver bells—real ones—hung at the bottom of the wreath and clanged softly as Jo opened the door. She clicked on an interior light, then handed them the keys.
“No cell service here,” she said, “and there’s no landline or Internet hooked up in this cabin yet. Please feel free to use our office phone or Wi-Fi tomorrow.”
“And this should hold you over food-wise,” Callum added, passing the bag he carried to Sean. “Breakfast is served between eight and ten, see you then.”
Sean and Bryn thanked their hosts and said good night, then Jo and Callum headed back to the trail. Bryn whistled for Steve. He bounded over and zipped into the cabin. Obviously, he wasn’t feeling awkward at all. She and Sean followed him in, and Bryn wondered if Sean, like her, felt ill at ease. Probably not. He probably entertained one night stands all the time—which made her cringe. What if he thought that’s what she had in mind? I mean, she’d clearly said he was getting the couch, but her tone had been kind of jokey…
You’re being nuts, she told herself. Sean has acted like nothing but a genuinely decent guy—once he got his initial anger and surprise out of the way at the scene of the accident anyway.
Recognizing the truth in her words, Bryn calmed. She set her overnight bag down on a cedar bench in the small entrance way and pulled off her boots. Before she got a chance to remove her jacket and scarf, however, Sean stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“What?” she asked.
“I just wanted to thank you again, for letting me crash here with you. I’m exhausted.”
She nodded. “I bet you are. You’ve had a rough night. I’m sorry.”
“You, of all people, don’t need to apologize to me.”
She had been sympathizing not apologizing, but that wasn’t what struck her oddly. “Me, of all people—what does that mean?”
“That I owe you an apology. I was a rude jerk when you knocked on my truck door. I was startled—”
“And in a bit of shock from going off the road. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. I was furious with myself for driving like an ass—and embarrassed. I took it out on you at first. I’m sorry.”
“No apology necessary.”
“That’s just the thing. I do feel it’s necessary. You were very gracious and kind to risk seeing if I needed help—not to mention brave—so thank you.”
Bryn shrugged, but couldn’t deny that his words lit a happy little glow in her belly. Anybody would’ve done what she’d done, but it was nice to be appreciated. She unwrapped her scarf and hung it to dry on a hook by the door, then unzipped her long coat and put it away as well.
When she turned to see where Steve had gotten to, she didn’t spot her dog immediately—but she did catch Sean’s look. He was staring intently and seemed mildly shocked or confused by something. When her eyes met his, he quickly glanced away.
Bryn looked down at herself. “What?”
Sean shrugged.
“No, seriously, what?”
“It’s just that… you’re beautiful. I already knew I liked you, but I wasn’t expecting…” He gestured with his hands, like he was presenting something—presenting her.
A surprised smile bloomed across Bryn’s face before she could stop it, and tingling heat in her cheeks told her she’d just let Sean know in red technicolor how flattered his words made her feel.
But she was not beautiful; she was plain—and he was kind. Flustered, Bryn said the first thing to pop into her head, other than you’re the one who’s beautiful. “You’re dripping on the floor.”
Sean looked down. “Oh, I really am.”
She nodded. The cozy warmth of the cabin was thawing his snow-logged sweater. As if cued by the droplets forming a small puddle on the stone tiles, Sean quaked in a full body shiver.
“Good grief, you’re freezing to death.”
“Well, to death is a bit of an exaggeration—or so I hope, anyway.” His eyes crinkled charmingly. He really did have the cutest smile, and it was lovely to get to see it in full light. Sap, sap, sap! Bryn told herself.
“You’re not one of those macho types who acts all stupidly tough at the expense of their health and well-being, are you?”
Why did she always resort to being such a snarky bag when she felt uncomfortable?
Sean’s smile slid from his mouth, but continued to twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, I’m one of those macho types all right—the macho-est, in fact,” he mock growled. “But I am pretty badly chilled.”
Bryn giggled, then clamped back the sound. There was no way he was flirting with her. She was imagining things. “What you need is a warm soak. Let me see if this place has a bathtub, and I’ll run you one.”
The gentle teasing look fell from Sean’s face and was replaced by a slightly confused, quizzical expression.
Good lord, why was she such a weirdo? Like a grown man couldn’t fill his own bathtub? He would for sure think she was either hitting on him—suggesting a little tub action for two—which was mortifying appealing, she admitted—or that she was being some bizarre meddling wannabe mother figure—or a strange combo of both. Ugh!
The main part of the cabin was open concept and floored with multi-hued tiles that reminded Bryn of river stones, and there was a living room visually set apart from the rest of the space by a roomy square of warm plank flooring. Beyond that lay two closed doors. Bryn grabbed her night bag and fled past a beautiful slab of wood that formed an eating bar across from a small L-shaped kitchen nook before Sean could say a word. She peeked in one door and shut it, then peeked in another. Bingo.
She started the tub as promised.
“Are you allergic to eucalyptus?” she called.
“Um… no.”
His tone definitely suggested confusion. He was probably wondering what kind of lunatic he’d accidentally got himself locked up with for the night. Why did she go into extreme nurturer mode when she was nervous? Ah well, it was too late now—and at least the bath would be good for him, might even stave off getting a cold.
“Um,” he repeated when she popped out of the bathroom a moment later and told him it should be all ready for him. “Thank you?”
Bryn’s face burned as he headed into the steamy bathroom with his backpack and the impact of the situation hit her. He was going to take a bath—because she hadn’t left him any choice in the matter. Yikes.
Her dismay over her embarrassing tendency to fall into caregiver mode—an occupational hazard—faded quickly, however, as her imagination kicked in. Sean Carson soaking in a fragrant, bubble-filled tub. The image re
moved all traces of chill left from their sojourn through the freezing dark. In fact, she practically needed a fan.
What was wrong with her? She wasn’t usually such a bundle of uncontrolled hormones.
She went to the stove and turned the oven to a low heat, then unpacked the food Callum and Jo had provided. Her stomach rumbled as delicious smell after delicious smell teased her senses. After checking each aluminum container’s contents—two massive pieces of lasagna in one, garlicky ribs in the other—she placed them in the oven to stay warm. Then she peeked at the other plastic tubs and felt herself salivate. Assorted olives and cheeses in one partitioned box. A whipped cream and chocolate dessert of some kind in another. Foil-wrapped garlic bread that seemed homemade. She added the bread to the oven.
The hearty comfort food felt like exactly what the doctor ordered. She felt weirdly excited.
A splashing sound from the bathroom tickled her ear—followed by a gusty sigh of contentment that made her body tingle again. At least Sean didn’t sound like he was resenting the forced bath.
The meal was too nice to eat from takeaway containers, so Bryn checked out the kitchen’s sole cupboard, a light maple cabinet that stood as tall as the fridge. She was slightly awed by the dishes she found: beautiful pottery plates, bowls and mugs in earthy blues, greens and russet. Then her eyes lit on another surprise, a bottle of red wine with a little note hanging around its neck: Thank you for staying at River’s Sigh B & B. Enjoy!
The gift made her realize that she hadn’t asked Jo how much the room cost per night. She decided it was probably best not to know. Treating herself would be an early Christmas present.
She set two places on the gorgeous eating plank, arranged the cold food prettily on a big platter she found, and put the dessert in the fridge.
Surveying her work, she had a moment of panic. Sean really was going to think she was some freaky, overly invested, “smothering mother” type.
