by Lara Swann
“Dumb jigsaw puzzles?”
She flushes red again, then glares at me. “No judgment. Okay?!”
“Okay.” I repeat, still grinning. “No judgment.”
I won’t judge, but that doesn’t mean I can’t poke a little…
“Good.” She says, folding her arms and giving me a suspicious look as she moves past, even as her firm tone settles it.
“Any others I should know about?” I ask innocently enough, but unable to help the amusement sparkling in my eyes.
“Any other what?”
“Ground rules.”
“Oh…um…I don’t know.” She frowns. “Probably.”
“That’s helpful—”
The knock at the door interrupts me and Lauren jumps on it before I can continue.
“Food’s here.” She announces, then mutters under her breath. “Thank god.”
I laugh and she shoots me a look as she heads to the door. “We’ll just work all that out as we go.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.” I smile, enjoying myself more than I should.
Then I catch scent of the food and let myself get caught up in setting out the different containers and working out what everything is, our conversation subsiding in favor of getting stuck into the food. Lauren opens the wine and pours us both a glass while I set out the platters of sushi in the middle of the table, before we both settle down to eat together.
“This looks so good.” I enthuse as I transfer a couple of pieces of sushi to my plate, while Lauren helps herself to the teriyaki.
“Doesn’t it just?” She grins at me, then raises her glass. “Here. To unexpected company.”
I laugh at that, following her lead and taking a sip of the nicely chilled wine.
“To us.” I agree, then gesture towards the meal set out in front of us. “If this is any indication, I think it’s all going to work out just fine.”
“I’ve always found that good food will smooth most things over.” Lauren says, smiling. “Here, try some of this.”
She passes the teriyaki over to me and within moments the food takes over. We let it distract us entirely as we share the different dishes out between us and our conversation shifts to gushing over our favorites, insisting each other try different things and debating our ranking of the different types of sushi we’ve ordered. It’s not until we’ve made a decent dent in the way-too-much-food we’ve ordered that I start slowing down enough to sit back with a satisfied sigh and really appreciate it all.
“Thanks for this, Lauren.” I say. “It was a great suggestion.”
“No problem.” She smiles. “And sushi was a good call. I’d forgotten how good it can be—and filling, actually. Those little rolls of rice never look like much…”
“They really don’t.” I laugh. “Especially the little pictures of them on the menu.”
“Ah well, I guess we have plenty to enjoy all over again tomorrow. I’m looking forward to that already.” She says, putting another one in her mouth regardless, and making me laugh again. It’s nice to meet someone who has no hesitation in matching my appetite. “Makes up for your lost trip to Japan for a little longer, too. A little bit, anyway.”
“Hah. Yeah, I suppose so.”
“So what were you going to do out there? In Japan?” She asks, looking up from the food to glance at me in interest. “It was for work?”
“Yeah, I write travel articles and take photos for a lifestyle magazine and around this time they usually like doing a feature on different celebrations around the world. I was going to cover the winter solstice festival in Tokyo, as well as the Christmas markets they have over there, and stay until the Oji Fox Parade over New Year too—”
“The what?”
“The Fox Parade.” I repeat, not quite hiding my laughter at her expression. “It’s a tradition that follows on from the legend of foxes gathering over New Year’s Eve and shape-shifting into human form to visit a shrine dedicated to the goddess of the foxes - the Oji Inari Jinja Shrine, hopefully I’m pronouncing that right - and so every year there’s a mini-festival at the shrine, with people gathering in fox masks and make-up and all sorts of fox-themed stalls, food and goods.”
“Wow. That’s so cool. And different.” She says, shaking her head with a captivated expression. “Damn, I mean, I can see why you weren’t so bothered about having to work over Christmas - for something like that, it would be worth it.”
“Actually—”
“And you’re really a travel writer?” She continues without noticing my interruption, which I’m belatedly glad about. I’m not sure why I started trying to correct her assumption in the first place, since debating the ‘meaning’ of Christmas is one of my least favorite things to do. “You actually get paid to go to amazing places, take photos and write articles? That has to be the best job ever.”
Her enthusiasm is infectious and - with it aimed at something I wholeheartedly agree with - it spills over easily to me.
“Yeah, I got really fucking lucky.” I say, unreservedly. “It’s pretty much my dream job - several of my dream jobs, actually, all rolled into one. I’d done a couple of freelance articles for them - and few freelance bits of photography too - and then when one of their long-term columnists left unexpectedly, I was in the right place at the right time to step into the role. I think they saw the advantages of having someone that could provide both the photos and copy, at least for covering the smaller events. They still send another photographer along for the bigger ones.”
Lauren nods. “Still, crazy impressive though. I know more than a couple of people from my college writing classes that would kill for that sort of chance.”
“You took writing classes too?” I ask, immediately interested.
“Yeah.” She shrugs with a small smile. “Not so much for the journalism side, though. I wanted to write novels—ended up as an editor, so that’s probably close enough to count. Besides, I figured out I much preferred working on the perfect way to phrase something than actually coming up with original ideas myself, so I guess it worked out for the best.”
“That’s pretty cool too.” I say. “Getting to read new books before they come out and fine-tuning their potential.”
“Yeah, I know.” Lauren says, grinning. “Don’t worry, I don’t need any reassurance there—even if I’m not the most interesting person in the room anymore.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t think anyone could find you the least bit uninteresting.” I say, unable to help myself - she’s just too expressive to deny that - even as it creates a slightly surprised, slightly awkward lull between us.
“Mm, I hope you mean that in a good way.” Lauren mutters, going faintly red and giving me a slightly askance look that makes me want to laugh some more.
Which probably won’t help.
“I’m sorry you didn’t end up making it to Japan, anyway.” She moves swiftly on, not giving me a chance to follow up either way.
“Me too—for both of our sakes’.” I offer with a smile, which she returns tentatively as I raise my wine glass slightly in salute. “Although I think I got over that a while ago. Being in Aspen and exploring this area for the next couple of weeks should give me a lot of what I was hoping to get out of the holidays, anyway.”
“Mmm, well I hate to break it to you, but I’m not sure how many foxes you’re going to find out here in all this snow.” Lauren says, keeping a straight face until I start laughing, and then she grins at me. “So what are you hoping to get out of the holidays, then? What made you choose Aspen? I would’ve thought summer would be a better time for hiking and exploring the mountains.”
“An easier time, maybe.” I smile. “Not necessarily a better one. It’s beautiful out there - the cold, crisp mornings with snow glistening everywhere - and there are so few people about on the hiking trails at this time of year.”
“Yeah. Probably for a reason.”
I grin. “Probably - but whatever that reason is, I’m grateful for it.
It doesn’t deter me in the slightest. I’m going to make the most of all the stunning photos I can get while Aspen’s famed beauty is quiet and empty and pristine.”
“Okay, put that way, it does almost sound appealing…almost.” Lauren admits, making me grin as she looks meaningfully around the cabin. “But you’re telling me none of your interest was in the spectacular wooden cabin we’ve got here? Or any of the imagery of curling up inside with a fire while it’s snowing outside? Or indulging in the jacuzzi tub, or any of that?!”
I laugh again, following her gaze.
“No, not really…” I start, amused by her outraged expression as I consider it further. “Well, okay, I guess there is something about this kind of rugged accommodation that appeals to me - although more for the aesthetic of it and the idea of seeing snow over the holidays than because of anything like the fireplace. I’m from San Diego and believe me, I didn’t feel like doing the too-hot inner-city Christmas again, with all the gaudy lights and over-the-top celebrations everywhere.” I shudder for effect, even as I’m surprised I mentioned any of that. Surprised, and maybe a little embarrassed. Feeling awkward suddenly, I try shrug it off. “This is something different, at least.”
I still see the glint of speculation entering her gaze, but reflect the question back at her before she has a chance to ask.
“So how about you, then? What brought you up here this year?”
“I guess I wanted something different, too.” She says, with a slightly rueful smile and a shrug. “It’s been a pretty rough year and the thought of spending a week sitting through all the squabbling and chaos of a family gathering was just too much for me. The last thing I need is to come away from what’s supposed to be a vacation more exhausted than I started it, so I decided to take the holidays for myself for once. Spend them how I really wanted to—relaxing and indulging in every way possible, while being secretly gleeful about all the stress I’m missing out on.”
She grins at me and I can see some of that glee reflected in her expression already - enough to make me smile - and I raise my glass toward her impulsively.
“To that, then. I hope you get everything you’re looking for out of this.” I toast.
“Yes!” She says emphatically, knocking her glass against mine. We’re both a little louder than we were at the start of the evening, our movements slightly more enthusiastic, but it’s an enjoyable feeling. Festive, even. “Here’s hoping.”
“And I’ll try my best to cause as little chaos and stress as I can.” I grin at her, and she laughs.
“Believe me, even if you were hell-bent on ruining my week, I doubt you could compete with the seven adults and three kids that my family has grown into. Not to mention the two cats and a dog.”
I whistle in appreciation. “Yeah, that’s a big family. I can see where the chaos comes from.”
“Uh-huh. It didn’t seem so big when we started out.” Lauren shrugs, almost wistful. “But now my brother’s married and my sister’s engaged…well…it got big quickly.”
“That’ll do it.” I say, with a familiarity that comes from the usual anecdotes and sitcoms instead of actual experience. I’m totally out of my depth trying to imagine what a family like hers would actually be like.
“Hopefully by the time I get back, they’ll have forgiven me for abandoning them over Christmas.” She quips, though I get the feeling there’s more concern there than her lightheartedness suggests. Then she tilts her head at me in interest. “Did you get any objections on your end?”
“No.” I shake my head, without expanding any further.
There’s no one left to object.
But I have no intentions of talking about any of that.
There’s a pause as she looks at me and I can sense her curiosity - I know that she wants to ask more - but after a brief moment of hesitation, she leans back with a sigh.
“Well I guess they were expecting you to work it anyway, huh?” She suggests easily, answering her own question and then dropping it as she surveys the food with a satisfied smile. “Okay, I think I’m defeated. I can’t eat another thing.”
“Yeah.” I say, relaxing slightly myself. “Me neither. At least we have plenty for tomorrow.”
I offer her a small smile, grateful that despite all the enthusiasm and interest she’s shown in getting to know each other, she at least seemed to know when to stop asking questions. This evening has been too nice to have to end it by telling her that’s none of her business.
We finish our drinks in comfortable silence and then start clearing up, sorting out the organized chaos in front of us - combining different platters of sushi, sealing boxes we want to keep and throwing the empty containers in the trash - before taking our plates through to the kitchen and resetting the table.
“Thanks for agreeing to this, Tristan.” Lauren says once we’re done, hovering next to the table with a smile. “It’s probably stupid, but I think I feel a lot more comfortable about this whole arrangement now.”
“It’s not stupid.” I smile, more genuinely than I’d anticipated, as my eyes catch hers. “You were right - it was a good idea. And thanks for treating us to the wine, too.”
“No problem.”
We both pause there for a moment and in the lull I’m all too aware of the alcohol buzzing in my veins. I’m not drunk, not by any stretch, but I’ve definitely had enough to feel it—and the slight thickness in the air as I look at her.
“Well.” I say, more to bring myself out of it than anything else. “I think I’ll head to bed, then.”
She blinks, confused. “Bed? But it’s…barely nine pm!”
“Yeah, but I want to be up an hour before sunrise tomorrow to see how the lighting changes.” I smile, and her disbelief is obviously enough to break the moment for her as well.
“But doesn’t that mean getting up at…like…six in the morning?”
“More like five, if I want to set up in time.”
“Yeah, okay.” She shakes her head. “I’m starting to think we’re not going to have any problems staying out of each others’ way after all.”
I laugh, enjoying how often she seems able to make me.
“Well, I’m going to stay and enjoy the fire for a while longer.” She adds, then her eyes sparkle. “Maybe even stay up irresponsibly late.”
“Have fun.” I smile back, amused at just how happy she seems to be by all these thoughts of indulging herself.
I pause and there’s a moment there between us, somewhere between awkward and…something else…before I finally step back.
“Goodnight.” I say softly, then turn to go, still shaking my head in slight bemusement as she wishes me goodnight in return.
It’s not until I get back into my bedroom that I realize - despite all my earlier misgivings - I actually did spend the evening answering questions about myself. And for some reason, I didn’t even mind. There was just something about her bubbly enthusiasm that made it seem like more than small talk - like she’s genuinely interested - and to my surprise, I found myself actually enjoying it, and interested in her, too. Of course, genuine interest creates its own problems, but she never went too far…
This was nothing like I expected from my first night here, but…it wasn’t bad, either.
Yes, staying here with her is certainly going to be interesting. I can already tell.
Chapter Four
Lauren
True to his word, by the time I get up the next morning Tristan is nowhere to be seen.
Despite how nice dinner and the evening together was last night, I still breathe a sigh of relief as I double-check that and proceed toward the shower in my towel. The towel probably plays a large part in that - especially after the way I judged him for walking around in one - but there’s something about knowing I’ve got the place to myself that’s just relaxes me.
Even though, if I have to share with anyone, it doesn’t seem like I can really complain that it ended up being Tristan. If last night is any indicator, he
seems like a great guy—and we got on much better than I could have hoped for. You never know whether your unexpected dinner partner is going to end up being a complete bore or have an irritating habit you can’t help noticing or spend the whole time railroading you with awkward political views, but Tristan was none of that. He was engaging and amusing and interesting, the whole way through. The most I can probably object to is his occasional penchant for arrogance and sometimes deliberately-infuriating manner - I swear some of the time he was laughing at me - but that amused sparkle in his eyes and devastating smirk almost made it forgivable…
Yeah. Okay. Maybe we got on a little too well. And maybe I’m a little too curious about him.
I might have thought back to that image of his bare chest a little too often last night, but hey…who can blame me? Now that I’m not annoyed and stressed at his very existence, it’s much harder to ignore that he’s smoking hot…and we’re sharing a cabin…and I haven’t had sex in five months.
Yep. Definitely a good thing he’s not going to be spending too much time in the cabin. For multiple reasons.
I get the fire started, trying not to think too much about how he was right there showing me how to do it, leaning over me, brushing against me…and surprise myself when I manage to light it on the first attempt.
Yet another reason to appreciate having Tristan here last night.
I finally shake off the thought of him as I settle down to enjoy my morning with a wry smile, amused at my own ridiculousness.
It doesn’t take long for the cozy murder mystery book I brought with me to have me fully absorbed and I savor the chance to shut off my internal editor and read for pure enjoyment for a while, barely noticing as the fire flickers and slowly dwindles into red, glowing coals.
Every so often a noise from outside will startle me - especially as the book’s isolated, country manor setting gives me the best kind of chills - and I’ll glance around in anticipation of Tristan walking through the door, only to realize it was probably just the wind or a couple of branches knocking against each other outside, but that occasional interruption is almost comforting in its reminder of how far removed I am from my normal life. It’s such a contrast out here from the near-constant bustle of traffic and life in New York City that if I wasn’t enjoying the crackling of the fire quite so much, it might almost be unnerving just how quiet it is.