by Natalie Ann
Not that it looked like any old small log cabin. Nope, this one looked brand spanking new and was pretty darn large for one person.
The garage door was open, so she took it as a sign to go in that way past a large truck along with a few snowmobiles and a covered four-wheel utility vehicle.
She grabbed the bags out of the back and made her way through all of Zeke’s toys, then knocked on the door leading to the house.
“Come in,” she heard yelled, so she turned the nob and walked into a good-sized mudroom. There were pegs on the walls with different jackets hanging along with shelves full of hats, helmets, gloves, and several boots in cubbies.
“Very organized,” she said when she saw him standing at the end of a small hallway in jeans, a cotton shirt, and bright orange socks with yellow ducks all over them.
“Go on, laugh. I know you want to.”
“What’s going on with your socks?”
“Freedom of expression,” he said smirking. “I won’t tell you how many drawers of funky socks I’ve got.”
She shook her head when he came forward and pulled the bags out of her hands. She slipped her boots off and hung her jacket up.
“Guess I’m boring,” she said glancing down at her own black socks that she’d thrown on so no one would be able to notice them with her black UGG boots. She was still in her leggings from earlier. Sure, this was kind of a date, but she wasn’t dressing up just yet.
“I find that hard to believe for someone who is traveling the world taking in adventures.”
Funny how he had to point something out to her that she hadn’t realized before. Her parents were the ones with the need for adventure. She was always more content to plant her feet and stay. The only reason she was traveling was because it was her father’s wish, not her desire.
One year, she’d promised herself. Then she was going back home to Vegas where she felt the most comfortable. Where she belonged. The most stable home she’d ever had.
“Looks can be deceiving,” she said. She was following him through his house now. “This is nice and big. There is more of a lodge feeling here than in the lodge itself.”
“That was the point. I’ve lived in a log cabin my whole life.”
“Not this one, right? This looks too new.”
“Nope. I built this about five years ago. My parents’ house is the driveway before mine and my sister owns that house now. It’s smaller and not as modern as this, but it’s a good size for her.”
“I would think anything is smaller than this house,” she said. The ceilings were pitched in the living room and open into the kitchen and a dining area. A large staircase and balcony could be seen that overlooked the whole downstairs. “How many bedrooms up there?”
“Four. Along with two full baths. There are a half bath and office on this floor and the downstairs has another family room and kitchenette, weight room, and a second master suite. And my favorite room of the house...a sauna.”
“I’ve never been in one before.”
“Well then, you can add that to your adventure list at some point.”
She nodded. “Why so much space?” she asked, kind of surprised he’d want this much for one person.
“I’ve got friends that come and stay here all times of the year and take advantage of the property to explore.”
“They could stay at the lodge,” she pointed out.
He laughed at her. “I wouldn’t make my friends pay to stay there, for one thing, and second of all, most come last minute and we’re pretty booked up year round. It’s not like I get a lot of company all the time, but my parents come back for the summer and this lets them spend time with me and Erika. She’s not as outgoing as me, so there is only so much time she wants around my parents.”
“That’s nice. Where do they live now?”
“North Carolina. They were sick of the cold weather. Me, I’m never leaving. This is where I want to be. Everything you could want is here in Lake Placid. The cold doesn’t bother me in the least.”
Everything but shopping malls, freeways, and the fast-paced action that she was used to. “That’s because you’ve got enough jackets to keep an Eskimo warm.”
“Variety, like my socks.”
She shook her head, finding the conversation both amusing and warming at the same time. She barely knew him, yet felt they’d been friends for years. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” he said. “What are you making me?”
“Lobster ravioli.”
He groaned before he could catch himself and tried to joke, “Maybe I’ve got a seafood allergy.”
“If you do then you should tell your staff because I asked Carl at the bar this afternoon after you left.”
“You were trying to find out about me?”
His grin said he liked she was making the effort. “Of course. Like you said, I wouldn’t want to send you into anaphylactic shock.” She started to pull the ingredients out of the bags.
“Where’s the pasta?”
“I’m making it,” she said when she pulled out the cooked lobster tails. She would have loved to poach them herself, but the store did it for her and it was easier this way.
“Seriously? You’re making me homemade pasta? That’s a lot of work.”
“First, I told you I’m a chef. Second of all, if there is one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s when you want something, you work for it.”
***
Zeke liked the sound of that. That she was putting in some kind of effort tonight.
He put his own effort in...changing his sheets. Then he wondered why he did that when he knew deep down he wasn’t even going to ask her up to his room.
Sure, she’d been putting out all sorts of signs that she was looking for a fling, but there was something behind her eyes that made him think she was forcing it on herself as another adventure. As much as he’d like to enjoy some time with her, the softie gene that Erika always said he had hidden underneath was coming out now. She was hurting and he wouldn’t take advantage of it. That wouldn’t be right and if there was one thing he tried to do in the bigger picture, it was the right thing.
Not only that, he wasn’t going to be anyone’s adventure, not even for a bit of sex with a hot woman. Been there and done that. All through high school, he was the jock the girls wanted a piece of. He took it, because hey, party was his middle name back then, but as an adult, he didn’t want to be used.
“Is there anything I can do to help? I kind of feel bad watching you cook.”
“Do you like white wine?” she asked, pulling out a bottle.
“I can choke a glass down,” he said grinning.
“Good. Then you can get two glasses. I need some of this for the meal and then you and I are going to drink the rest.”
He picked the bottle up and brought it over to the drawer with his wine opener, noticing she spent a pretty penny on the bottle for the night. After he poured two glasses he brought it back and she was already digging into the lobster meat.
“What pots and pans do you need?”
“Just point me where they’re stored and I’ll do the rest.”
“I can handle that,” he said, walking to the other end of the kitchen and opening up the pantry door.
“Your flow in here stinks,” she said smiling at him.
He liked this side of her. One that wasn’t sad behind the eyes, but rather mischievous.
“I don’t do enough cooking to even think about the flow. Remember, single guy here.”
“Glad to know you’re single,” she said pouring flour in a pile on his counter, then making a dome and putting egg yokes in the center.
“You wouldn’t be standing in my kitchen making me this fabulous meal if I weren’t. I guess I need to ask the same thing of you.”
“Single as can be. I don’t know too many men that would be happy with me taking a year off to travel the world.”
“True.” Since she brought it up, he was going to expand on it. “Wh
at made you decide to do it? I read on your blog you were taking a one-year sabbatical from your job to travel. Will they hold a position for you?”
“They said they would, but if they don’t, I’m not too worried. I’ve gotten several job offers in the past few months just from restaurants following my blog. But I’d like to be able to go back there. I love it and it’s really been such a part of my life for years. Actually, it’s been the only stable place I’ve known.”
He pushed that statement aside for the moment. “Really? You’re offered jobs without them even trying your food?”
“The power of social media.”
He understood that. Erika dealt with most of that stuff, or her staff did. Right now though, he was enjoying watching Kendall work at this meal for them.
“So back to your reason for the travel? Because you wanted to expand your talents? Which I’ve got to say are pretty magnificent right now.”
She turned and smiled at him again. “Why, thank you. You haven’t even tasted my food, but you already know it’s going to be good.”
“You’ve got a confidence about you that is hard to miss.”
“I’ve been told that a time or two in the kitchen.”
“What about outside the kitchen?” He was following her as she went into the pantry to grab a pot, which he took out of her hand and filled with water for her.
“I’m still single, so I might be lacking in that particular department.”
“Or you haven’t found the right guy.”
“That too.”
Itchy Feet
She had been avoiding his main question on why she was traveling and wondered why she was. It wasn’t really a secret. He knew her parents died recently. He was one of the few she’d actually told.
But since he wasn’t pushing her and she figured he was aware of what she was doing, she told him. “My father left me a letter. Well, he left a letter for my mother and me, never expecting they’d die together.”
“What did the letter say?” he asked, sitting down and filling her wine glass up some more. She needed the liquid courage since she hadn’t talked to anyone about their deaths and that he assumed that was just another example of why she felt so comfortable around him.
“He wanted my mother to travel like he and she used to do. To think of him and remember all their happy times. I’m more of a homebody, but I wanted to honor his request. For him. For both of them. They never left the country so the least I could do was visit all the places the two of them talked about.”
“Why did they stop traveling?”
“Money was one. I was getting older and changing schools every year was hard on me. Like I said, I didn’t have their itchy feet. It was time for them to put roots down, they’d said.”
“What did they do for a living?”
“My mother was a bookkeeper. She never had a problem finding a job, but she said it was getting harder and harder to keep interviewing and explaining why she kept changing jobs. Employers didn’t want to take a chance on her. My father was a math teacher. He pretty much subbed all those years we traveled.”
“Of all the places in the world, Vegas seems an odd one to land and stay.”
“Well,” she said, smirking. “My father would have been a professional gambler if my mother didn’t have such a tight rein on the household funds.”
“Ah. He saw those bright lights and visions of dollar signs?”
“He did. The funny thing is, he hit it big and never told either one of us. I’m able to travel this year because of the substantial amount of money he won and invested. From his letter, he’d meant to surprise my mother with it when they retired and if anything happened before they could travel together, he wanted her to do it without worries.”
“That’s nice,” he said softly, reaching his hand over and laying it on hers.
She lifted her other hand and wiped at a tear she was trying to battle.
“He was a great guy. My mother would have been so excited had she known about this. I’m just sad I’m the one doing what they would have loved.”
“You can love it for them,” he said.
But she didn’t. “It’s not my thing.”
“Then you’re doing a great job at faking it.”
Again, something else she should have realized. “I guess so. But one thing I don’t do is fake my cooking.”
He let go of her hand and pulled her into his arms. Big and strong, his body smelling of fresh clean soap, his long hair falling over her forehead and brushing her cheek.
He held her and he held her tight and she accepted it because she knew it came from the heart.
“You can shed some tears over them if you want. I won’t think any differently of you.”
There was no stopping the flood at that point. She hadn’t expected him to be so sweet. So caring. So supportive.
When she was done wiping up those runaway offenders, she leaned back and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I’ve cried a lot in the past seven months.”
“You’ve cried alone. It’s not the same thing.”
“No, it’s not.”
***
Something about Kendall just drew him into this protective mode he’d never felt before.
He’d always been the carefree sibling. The one out for a good time. The life of the party when he was done working.
Give him a list or a chore and he’d do it with a smile on his face because the minute he was done, he was going out to play.
Skiing, hockey, four-wheeling, snowmobiling, fishing. Any outdoor activity he’d done and excelled at it. It ran through his blood like credit cards ran through a shopaholic’s fingers.
Lake Placid was the perfect place to live the lifestyle he loved. They had everything he could imagine here. That he got to make a living doing it...well, that was the icing on the cake.
When his plate was empty, him resisting the urge to pick it up and lick it clean, he poured the last of the wine into their glasses. “No dessert?” he asked.
“I never said that.”
“I don’t see anything?”
“I’m going to make it fresh when you’ve got room for it.”
“I’ve always got room for dessert. What are you making?” He was glad he was able to let her have her moment to grieve but recognized when she was embarrassed over it and ready to push it aside.
“Lava cakes.”
He did notice there were still a few things in a bag but didn’t think much of it. “I was just joking. You’ve already gone through a lot of trouble tonight.”
“I like doing this. It’s no trouble at all. I’ve missed it too.”
“Well then, you sit there and let me clean up,” he said.
“You know what, I’m going to do that.”
He stood up and started gathering the dishes and pots and pans. She stood up too, but only to move to the island and sit on a stool closer to the sink. “So tell me what you love so much about this place.”
“My house or Lake Placid?”
“Lake Placid. I’m struggling with the cold.”
“I can imagine,” he said. “Vegas can get pretty hot in the summer months.”
“Have you been there before?”
“Nope. I’m not much for big cities or being around people and I thought I told you I’ve never been on a plane. Driving there would suffocate me being in a car that long.”
She burst out laughing, which just caused him to grin. “There are a lot of people around you on a daily basis. Your business is hopping.”
“It’s a different kind of people. Most come here to get away from the bigger cities. They’re looking for what I love the most.”
“What’s that?” she asked again.
“The energy of nature. There is just so much to do here. So much to experience. You can be lazy if you want, or never get bored finding something new outdoors.”
“I’m guessing you’re someone that never sits still or gets bored.”
“You’d be rig
ht.” He could always find something to do in the outdoors. Even if it was merely exploring, it was enough for him. “What about you? What do you do for fun?”
“I’m traveling,” she pointed out.
“You said you weren’t doing it for you, but for your father. I’m asking what you do for fun.”
“You know what, that’s a few times now you’ve made me think about something in my life I didn’t realize before.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I’ve discovered that I’m pretty boring. That I’m good at putting on a front for people, that I’m not doing it for myself, but for others. I used to look at all these blogs before when I was following other chefs and think of how much fun it’d be to travel and try new things. Now that I am, it’s okay. But it’s not what I thought it’d be.”
“What did you think it’d be?”
“Exciting. That it’d give me this thrill and happiness and make me never want to stop. The thing is, I’m ready to go back to my boring life. That’s probably why my father left what he did in that note. He told me to live before I settled. Guess he knew how boring I was too,” she said, and her smile was pretty wobbly.
“Come here,” he said, putting the wet sponge down and pulling her in. “You’re not boring. And if you are, there isn’t anything wrong with it. Are you having fun with your adventures?”
“I am.”
“Then that’s something.”
“I guess.”
She’d leaned back and was trying to force a smile and something in him just made him dip his head down and touch his lips to hers. It started out slow. It started out soft. But when she applied more pressure and opened her mouth, he was lost.
The two of them were gripping each other, their mouths feasting on each other’s, not able to get enough.
He’d love nothing more than to pick her up and bring her to his room, but as he’d told himself earlier, he wasn’t going to be a check on her list. He’d matured more than anyone gave him credit for.
“Kendall,” he said, his lips making their way to her ear and pulling it between his teeth. He loved the shiver he’d felt her have.