“You have a garage,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, but when I rent out the cabin, my tenants can get into the garage, but I can lock the attic,” Ella explained as she moved several boxes from the back wall, searching for something. Suddenly she called out, “I found it!’
Brady watched Ella pick up a small sled.
“I was afraid I got rid of the sled,” she explained, shoving the boxes back in place. “I thought I set it by the dresser. But I must have shoved it back there before I moved those boxes up here.”
She set the sled by Brady, in the middle of the attic floor. Next to him were the boots they’d found, along with several pairs of socks and the ski gloves. Ella leaned down and picked up the socks and gloves, then shoved them into the boots. She grabbed the snowshoes, holding both sets in her arms.
“Can you get the sled and boots, and I’ll take these?”
“Sure.” Brady stood up from the floor. Ella left the attic first, followed by Brady who turned off the light as he stepped from the room. After walking down the stairs, Ella moved into the hallway and placed the snowshoes on the floor by the door leading to the attic. Brady put the sled and boots next to the snowshoes, turned off the light in the small hallway, and shut the attic door.
“Do you want to lock this again?”
“I guess so.” Taking the key from her pocket she stepped to the closed door. “I can’t have those people from the attic sneaking into my room in the middle of the night.”
Brady laughed, yet couldn’t help but wonder what Ella would think if he snuck into her room in the middle of the night. As soon as the thought popped into his head, another image flashed, that of the uninvited blonde whom he found in his hotel room bed just days before. Brady cringed inwardly, telling himself that in spite of his earlier suspicions of Ella’s intentions toward him, she had done nothing to infer she would welcome his advances.
“You want me to take this stuff downstairs?” Brady asked as he watched her lock the door. He tried to get the notion of seducing his hostess out of his head.
“That would be great,” Ella said as she turned to face him, tucking the key in her pocket. “I’m going to take that shower now. If you’re hungry or thirsty, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I brought a box of wine; feel free to open it if you want something to drink.”
“Thanks, Ella.”
“No problem,” she smiled.
Standing at the end of the hallway, he watched her go into the bedroom and shut the door. Once again, he heard the clicking sound, and knew she had locked her bedroom door. He wondered briefly if she was protecting herself from the imaginary people in the attic, or from him.
Brady leaned down and picked up the snowshoes and headed downstairs. He would have to make a second trip for the sled and boots.
Chapter Nine
Brady put the boots in the downstairs bedroom, and set the sled and snowshoes in the garage. Sam was no longer sleeping by the fire, and followed Brady down the hallway to the garage, then back to the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Brady helped himself to a glass of merlot after retrieving the wine box from the pantry. While opening the box, he chuckled to himself, thinking of the expensive case of wine and imported beer Kevin had placed in the back of the Jeep for Brady to take to the cabin. Maybe Brady wasn’t a big drinker, but when he did enjoy alcohol, it was normally the best and the most expensive. After a sip of the wine, he had to admit it didn’t taste bad.
Sitting on the couch in front of the fire, Brady watched the flames dance in the stone fireplace. Sam lay down by the side of the couch, close to Brady, and let out a little grunting sound before closing her eyes to take a nap. Brady reached down and patted her head, then took another sip of wine.
He considered the day’s events and his behavior toward Ella. He had to admit, had she not come along when she did, he very well might have died in the storm. She had saved his life. As he began replaying the day back in his mind, he couldn’t help but experience a surge of embarrassment and regret. I behaved like an ass, he told himself. Yawning, he suddenly realized he was exhausted. The day’s adventures had kicked his ass.
Downing his wine in record time, he set the empty glass on the coffee table, pulled his feet onto the couch and tucked one of the sofa’s throw pillows under his head. Within minutes he was fast asleep.
When Brady woke from his nap, the first thing he observed was a darkened room lit only by the warm glow from the fireplace. Sitting up on the couch and placing his bare feet on the floor, he noticed he’d been covered while he slept. It was the same quilt he’d used earlier and left folded in the laundry room. Obviously, Ella was responsible. Brady smiled at the considerate gesture. It appeared he was alone downstairs; even Sam was nowhere in sight. The fire was still raging, and he suspected Ella had fed the flames while he napped.
Groggily getting up from the couch and wondering how long he had slept, Brady combed his fingers through his dark hair. Letting the quilt fall from his lap to the floor, he stretched for a moment. He reached down, picked the quilt off the floor and tossed it to the couch before heading to the kitchen.
There were no lights on downstairs, and he wondered what Ella was doing. Resisting the temptation to go upstairs and check, he walked into the kitchen and turned on the lights. The kitchen was illuminated for just a few seconds before he was plunged back into darkness. Reaching for the light switch again, he flipped it several times. Nothing happened.
A few moments later, he heard Ella noisily coming down the staircase, Sam trailing after her.
“Damn electricity has gone out,” Ella cursed as she walked into the kitchen carrying her flashlight.
“How long does it usually stay off when this happens?” Brady asked.
“It usually goes back on in a couple of hours, but this is a bad storm, so I don’t expect it to come on until morning. I tried the phone upstairs earlier, and it’s still down. Did you have a good sleep? You’ve been out for hours.”
“Yes, I did. Thanks for the blanket.”
“No problem. You hungry?”
“Yes, a little. What’ve you been doing? Did you take a nap?”
“No, I never nap. If I sleep during the day it wipes me out. I might as well stay in bed until the next day. I was working. I was on a roll when the damn electricity went out. I was tempted to keep writing in the dark until my laptop battery dies, but I’m kind of hungry.”
Ella opened the refrigerator and shined her flashlight inside. Brady watched as she grabbed food from the refrigerator, and then more items from the pantry.
“I wanted to apologize,” Brady began, silently watching Ella in the poorly lit room.
She paused a moment and glanced over at Brady. Light from the fireplace illuminated his features with a golden glow.
“Apologize?” Ella asked.
“If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be in the snow, most likely dead. I behaved like an ass, beginning with cutting you off at the gas station.”
“Oh, that,” Ella chuckled. “Do you normally cut people off at the gas pumps?” She sounded as if she was teasing, but she was genuinely curious.
“To be honest, I haven’t driven a car in years,” Brady confessed. “The Jeep belongs to Kevin.”
“Are you serious?” Ella found that hard to believe.
“We have a limo with a driver, and since I’ve been living in one hotel after another during the last five years, there really has been no reason for me to drive.”
“I thought you rock stars lived in fancy motor homes when on the road.”
“Please don’t call me a rock star,” he asked. “I’ve never been much for homes on wheels.” He thought about the crappy trailers he’d lived in growing up.
“Hotels are better?” Ella asked.
“They have room service, clean sheets and I never have to buy soap or shampoo.”
“I would hate not having my own place.”
As they chatted, she arranged food on a tray. Since t
here was no electricity, she would not be able to cook dinner. Instead, they would feast on finger food consisting of cheese, deli meats, fruit and hard rolls. She picked up the tray and told Brady to follow her into the living room.
She set the tray on the coffee table and sat on the couch. Brady picked his empty wine glass up from the table.
“Want me to get you a glass of wine?” Brady offered.
“That would be great. I was so hungry, I forgot about the wine.”
Moments later, Brady returned to the couch carrying two glasses of merlot. He sat with Ella on the couch, while the two ate from the tray. Sam suddenly appeared, obviously hoping for a handout. Ella pointed away from the couch and told Sam to go lay down. Reluctantly, the dog moved away from the tray of food and lay down on the floor, resigned to the fact she was not invited to the indoor picnic.
“I take it this is your vacation cabin. Where do you normally live?”
“Canyon City.”
“Where we had breakfast?” Brady asked. He then remembered the man from the gas station had mentioned that.
“Yes, I’ve a condo there. I loved your wig by the way,” Ella added with a giggle, unable to resist commenting. She remembered how silly he looked sitting in the restaurant booth wearing the odd hair piece. Brady groaned, and then laughed before taking a sip of wine.
“No you didn’t,” he laughed. “You fairly ripped it from my head when I got in your car.”
“Why in the world did you have it on? I understood the restaurant; you were trying to hide your identity. But why wear it out in a snowstorm?”
“I didn’t have a hat,” he explained.
“Well, that makes more sense. I wish I’d taken a picture when I found you stumbling down the road with the wig on. I betcha I could’ve sold that picture for big bucks to one of those scandal sheets.”
“I’m sure you could have,” Brady agreed with a chuckle.
“So, did you really come here to get away from fans and paparazzi?” Ella popped a piece of cheese into her mouth.
“Yes. They’re one reason I had to get a limo and hire a driver. If I was allowed to drive, I would’ve hit one of those jerks by now, and would probably be in prison today.”
“I wouldn’t like that, the annoying paparazzi always snapping my picture.”
“Neither do I.” Brady leaned back on the couch and propped his bare feet on the coffee table. “But it’s part of the job.”
“Are fans as annoying?” Ella asked.
“I don’t want to say anything bad about my fans. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have all that I do. But unfortunately, some get a little out of control. For example, the other day I returned to my hotel room to discover a nude woman in my bed.”
“Was she ugly?” Ella asked.
“No, actually she was pretty hot. Why would you ask if she was ugly?”
“Well, guys I know would be thrilled to find a naked chick in their bed, unless of course there was something wrong with her.”
“Would you be upset if you frequently came home to discover strange nude men waiting in your bed?”
Ella almost gave the flip reply: if he was hot it would be cool. The truth was, she would be horrified to find a nude stranger in her bed, and it wouldn’t matter how good looking he was.
“I see what you mean. It’s just that I always hear stories about rock…I mean people in your profession, and how having sex with groupies is just part of the life.”
“Having indiscriminate sex with strangers can kill you,” Brady reminded her.
“You’re right,” Ella sat her wine glass on the table and stood up. She walked to the fireplace and pulled a log off the rack and tossed it in the flames.
“That’s one reason I’m grateful to be able to make a living with my writing, and why I have no desire to become a well-known bestselling author. Not that bestselling authors usually find nude people in their beds, but their fans can still be intrusive.”
“According to the guy at the gas station you write romance. You can actually make a living without being considered a bestselling author?”
“Historical romance,” Ella clarified as she returned to the couch and sat down. “Compared to what traditionally published mid-list authors made before eBooks and self-publishing took off, I probably make more. It’s a comfortable living, but I’m not rich and famous. Rich I would like, famous not so much.”
“Why not famous?” He remembered how hungry he had been for the fame along with the money. Looking back, he had wanted fame more.
“I’ve a writer friend who started self-publishing about the same time as me. Her first book took off immediately. It shot to the top of the charts and made the New York Times Best Seller List. For years she had been trying to get an agent and publisher, and suddenly she has agent’s knocking on her door. They made her a sweet deal, and her second and third book did even better than the first. She made appearances on all the talk shows, and overnight she had strangers knocking on her front door, showing up at her kid’s private school to snap a picture of her picking him up. She ended up moving two times the first year, trying to get some privacy.”
“I can definitely relate.”
“Don’t get me wrong, she’s happy with her life, and doesn’t complain about her loss of privacy, but I don’t think I could handle it as well as she does.”
“What do you plan to do if your next book makes it to the bestseller list?” he asked.
“Well, I write under a penname, whereas my friend used her real name. Hopefully I’ll be able to keep my true identity a secret if that ever happens.”
“The guy at the gas station knows who you are, so it really isn’t a secret now.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right there. It’s a small town, and my friends all know what I write. My penname is not exactly a secret. I don’t have my real name on my website, or on my Facebook author’s page. Of course, it’s mentioned on my personal Facebook page, but only friends see that. Hopefully, if I’m ever so lucky to make it to the New York Times Best Seller List, my friends will respect my privacy. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I’m afraid of success. I’d love for my titles to make it to the top of the charts. I want readers to love my books. I don’t necessarily want them to love me.”
Ella sipped her wine and considered some of Brady’s earlier comments when he seemed to assume she was some obsessed fan who had followed him to the mountain. Remembering some of the stories her writer friend had told her involving overeager fans, she understood better why he behaved in such a manner. Ella couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. She would not want his life.
They talked for another twenty minutes when Ella finally said, “I think I’ll head back upstairs and get more writing done before I get to bed. I figure I have at least three hours on the laptop battery before it goes out.”
Fifteen minutes later, Brady found himself once again alone in front of the fireplace. Even Sam had abandoned him, going upstairs with Ella instead of staying by the warmth of the fire.
Staring into the flames, Brady contemplated the unusual set of circumstances. Last week, had he known he would be stranded in a blizzard with a beautiful young woman, he would never imagine she would choose to work upstairs on her computer instead of staying with him by the warmth of a fire during an electrical outage. What surprised him most was the fact he wished she’d stayed downstairs with him.
Chapter Ten
The inviting aroma of coffee woke Brady the next morning. Sleepily, he opened his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar bedroom. For a moment he forgot where he was. Then he remembered—the blizzard, Ella. Stretching beneath the pile of warm quilts, Brady delayed getting from bed, enjoying the surrounding comfort. Breathing in the scent of freshly brewed coffee, he remembered the electrical outage.
“I guess the electricity is back on,” he said aloud to the empty room; then smiled, thinking how he’d enjoy some crisp bacon, and recalled seeing a package in the refrigerator.
Walking to the bedroom window, he looked outside. It was impossible to tell where the side yard ended and the street began. Everything was covered in white, but the sun was shining and a few clouds remained in the sky. Brady didn’t know if it was the beginning of a new storm, or the remnants of yesterday’s blizzard.
Still chilly, even with clothes on, he left the room and headed toward the kitchen and living room area. He found Ella sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking a cup of coffee.
“Good morning,” Ella said brightly. “I hope you slept okay. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“I’d love one. Can we turn the heater up? It’s kind of cold in here,” Brady asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed each of his forearms with an opposing hand, in an attempt to warm himself.
“Sorry, but the power’s still off. I’m afraid the fire was about out when I got up this morning, but I’ve added some logs, so it should warm up. Unfortunately, fireplaces don’t really add that much heat. Times like this I wish I had a woodstove. Much better for heating.”
She stood up, walked into the kitchen area and grabbed a second coffee mug from the overhead cupboard.
“Then how did you make the coffee?”
Ella answered by pointing to the fireplace. Brady looked in that direction and saw the blue enamel camping coffee pot sitting on a brick in the fireplace, next to the flickering flames.
“I also dug out my Dutch oven this morning. I had it shoved to the back of a cupboard. I figure we can use that to heat up the chili, or cook other meals, for as long as this power stays off,” Ella explained while she walked to the fireplace with the empty mug. Bending down by the stone hearth, she used one of the brass fireplace tools to drag the coffee pot closer to her, and away from the flames. Using a potholder she’d left on the hearth, she grabbed hold of the pot’s handle. After pouring a cup of coffee, she set the pot back in the fireplace and handed the hot mug to Brady.
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