Deciding I could not hold my bladder any longer, I crept up to the semi-open door and peaked out. The bedroom overlooked the living room that housed a large stone fireplace. In the far corner was a beautiful kitchen with granite countertops and a sleek fridge, which seemed to run flush with a deck outside, but it was dark and I couldn't be sure.
There were a few thumps and the front door of the log home opened. He walked in; wood in his arms, kicking his boots off to the rug by the door and walking across the room to the cobblestone fireplace.
He stoked it, oblivious to my presence.
Stepping out of the room in the wool socks I had liberated from his top drawer, I cleared my throat.
He looked over his shoulder, a slow smile creeping his gentle face. “Hey there.”
I cut right to the chase. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure.” He straightened his broad shoulders. “It's right down there.” He pointed the opposite direction of the kitchen and I followed his pointing. “Second door on the right.”
I walked the narrow hall and found it, closing myself quickly in the confines.
Taking a moment to catch my breath, I looked over the bathroom as the light flickered on. It was beautiful just like the rest of the home. He had pretty good taste.
A glance in the mirror revealed bags under my eyes, bruising on my shoulders, along with smudged makeup across my freckled cheeks.
“Good God, I look like shit.”
There was a sharp knock on the door that scared me away from my battered reflection. “Amy?”
“O-one second,” I called, running some water over my face and patting it dry as I grabbed the door to poke my head out.
“Oh,” he stepped back, not expecting me to appear.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Hi?”
“I was just going to make something to eat, are you interested?”
My stomach growled at the thought. “Sure, thanks.”
He nodded, stepping back. “Take your time, though.”
“So, I could take a shower?”
“Oh, yeah, for sure,” he hesitated then pushed open the door, walking in beside me. “Here's some towels.” He pulled open a cupboard and laid out two luxurious bath sheets for me to use.
“This is a beautiful bathroom.”
“Thanks. I just finished it a few months back.”
“Nice job,” I breathed.
“Wasn't my first choice on the tile but...” His sentence trailed off and left me wondering where he'd been going with it.
I put my hand on the towels. “I'll be quick.”
“Its okay, no rush,” he assured me and left, closing the door.
I turned on the shower within seconds, convinced hot water and soap would do my sore limbs a world of good.
The steamy water hit me and as the minutes passed, I figured I should wash as much as the crash off me I could. My only choices in soap were shower gels. Two to be exact, either I could smell woodsy-pleasant or musky-tough.
I stared at the bottles in hand. “Woodsy-pleasant.” I decided on and snapped the cap open. Once the washing was complete, I exited the shower and dried off, putting back on my garments I had been provided with. I really wanted pants, though.
When I came out into the hall, I could basically taste the aromatic smells of what he was cooking and it was teasing on my hungry stomach.
I winced from my pain again and made my way to the open living space. Stepping into the cozy living room, I noticed the lack of a television.
“You don't have a TV?”
He was chopping something in the kitchen but gave me his attention. “Not really. Satellite costs a lot and I'm not home much to watch it.”
I looked down to my bare legs once our conversation dried up. “You wouldn't happen to have some pants I could borrow, would you?”
“Oh yeah, sorry about that.” He walked around the kitchen island, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I washed your clothes. Though, your shirt has a rip too.”
Argh, that had been expensive too.
He walked past me and went to an opposite door of his bathroom. “Here you are.” He brought me my clothes.
“Thanks,” I breathed, taking them. “What are you making?”
I pulled on the jeans as he turned around and decided the shirt wasn't worth it, anyway, the flannel was warm.
“Nothing fancy. Grilled cheese and soup,” he said.
I sighed, it had smelt way better than that, but I would eat it because I was basically starving.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I murmured, sitting down on the couch near the fire. My toes curling into the sheepskin rug under my feet to try and warm up.
“That's good. I was a bit worried about you.” He washed his hands in the sink.
I watched the fire burn and noticed the rip in the knee of my jeans. “Damn.”
He sat across from me on the sectional. “I'm trying to warm it up in here, sorry if it's a bit chilly.”
I gave him a weak smile before looking back to my ruined clothes.
“Did you see the storm?” He pointed out the big glass windows to the deck, it was pitch black outside, but I could clearly see the snow as it billowed down. I'd never seen it snow like that in my life and to think, I'd been trying to drive in it.
“Big storm. They don't know if it's going to stop either. Might be a couple days.”
“What!” I stood, shoot pain through my neck and yelling from the re-injury.
“Whoa...” He jumped up and steadied me. “You can't move like that, Amy.”
“How do you know the snow isn't going to stop?”
“I have that radio, once in awhile the weather scans through.”
“Are you even trying to get me out of here?” I shot angrily at him.
“Even if I could, no one would be coming in here for you. If you're not injured, you're staying put.”
“I'm injured,” I hissed.
“I mean life threatening,” he explained to me.
I grumbled and sat.
He walked back to the kitchen and flipped his grilled cheese. “I'm sorry.” The man that had saved my life was apologizing to me, it seemed a bit wrong. Saved my life? That was a bit dramatic. It must have been all the fresh air seeping into my city-head.
I watched him. He put a hand through his brown hair and turned the burner down.
“Almost done.” He walked back over and sat again. “So, what do you do?”
“For work?”
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“I'm a vice president,” I said very matter of factually. I wanted him to know what he was dealing with. I wasn't just some dumb girl.
He raised an eyebrow. “A vice president of a company?”
“What other kind is there?”
“Well, you were driving a beamer,” he noted.
I sat back into my chair. “Speaking of which, did you happen to grab my purse?”
“Ah, no. Sorry,” Ean said. “I was really focused on getting you out of there, you were cold. I was worried about hypothermia.”
I nodded. He was back to the life-saving again.
It got awkward as each of us didn't speak. I personally could not stand it. I hated silence. I always had a radio or some kind of noise going on, the traffic and horns of the city were something that helped me sleep.
He took a deep breath and got off the couch, turning to the fireplace and picking up some new wood to feed it.
I watched his hands deal with the wood with little hesitation to the possibility of splinters or burns. He put on the new split wood and dusted his palms off on his jeans as he stayed turned away, watching the fire burn.
It gave me ample time to study those worn but fitted jeans that he wore his flannel tucked into.
“Do you have neighbors?” I asked; the solidarity was hitting me hard.
“Not really. Always liked this place for that reason.”
I wrinkled my nose at the comment. “You like being alone?”
“Alone is therapeutic and it wouldn't be so lonely if I had someone else to share it with, I suppose, but right now I just work. There's not really any reason to feel lonely.”
But that in itself, sounded lonely. I liked my bars and parties being fifteen minutes away from me at all times.
“What about you? Do you like the city? Seems a bit too busy to function.” He walked across to the kitchen.
“We function fine. I like my city views; I can even see the mountains.”
“Oh yeah, that must be nice.”
“Yeah, it's great. I worked hard for that apartment. Still remember the day I got the keys.” I walked over as he dished up the sandwiches and pulled out two bowls for soup.
“I can look at your mountains then go have a latte an elevator ride away,” I chirped.
“Maybe you'll change your mind on the worth of a latte when you see my view, come morning.”
“What do you have over city and mountain views?” I was unimpressed.
He smiled, cutting the grilled cheese sandwiches in half. “You'll see.”
I wanted to say something witty but, instead I focused on the cheesy goodness that would be going straight to my lean hips I had spent months on at the gym.
He pushed me a dish and got the soup served. “Have a seat,” he motioned to the bar stools next to me.
I pulled one out and scooted up into it. He started eating right away, standing across the counters from me.
“It's late,” I noted.
“Almost ten,” he nodded. “How's your abdomen?”
I was shoving food in my face and didn't really want to have the small talk anymore. “Bruised.”
“I noticed that, yeah. Did those pain killers earlier at least help?”
I nodded, shoveling the melted cheese into my mouth with little remorse.
“That's good. I can give you more before bed.”
“Okay.” I said between bites. “Thanks. Too bad you don't have anything stronger. Like a glass of wine.” I joked.
“Are you in a lot of pain?”
I looked up to him, the thought of playing out my pain worse than it was could have benefits. Like getting me out of there, maybe they could even get a helicopter in but I doubted it in the heavy snowfall.
I glanced down to the split pea soup which was excellent and decided to be honest. “I'm okay.”
“Well, just tell me if anything changes.” He picked up the empty plates and put them in the dishwasher. “Hope that fills you up.”
“It will,” I told him.
“I'll get you some pain killers now before you decide to head to bed on me.” He walked around the island and over to the small dining room table where a red bag was. He sifted through it. “Three should knock it back good for the night.” He brought the little white pills over and dropped them in my palm once I offered it.
He grabbed me a water bottle from the fridge and opened it, passing me the fresh drink.
“Thanks,” I breathed.
“Sure.” He continued to clean his kitchen as I downed the pills. He was organized and fast, paying attention to details like crumbs. Details were important.
“I can sleep on the couch.”
He looked up and we stayed silent a moment.
“No,” he shook his head. “No, sleep in the bed. I'll sleep on the couch.”
“This is only a one bedroom house?”
He hesitated. “N-no... there's another room in the back, but it's... I don't have it set up.”
“Don't have many guests?” I joked, I mean seriously, though, who would want to come out there and visit?
“Not a lot, no.”
I decided heading to bed would be easier as he was getting into another task in his kitchen.
“Think I'm going to lie down. I'm exhausted.”
He looked up to me and caught my eyes. “If you need me, I'll just be in here.”
Nodding, I took a few steps away but paused and turned back. “Ean?”
“Yeah?” He halted all movement.
“Thanks.”
“No worries, Amy. Have a good sleep.”
I walked to his bedroom and shut myself inside, glancing around the last time to the warm timber and muted lights before retiring for the night. I hadn't wanted to go to Forrest Mountain Ski Resort and my wish had been answered, but I was curious as to what had wanted me in Ean Hunter's Resort.