“That was like two miles ago. You could drive backward that far and not go off the side of this stupid mountain?”
“With my eyes closed.”
“Nooo, you keep those bad boys open,” she replied, staring straight ahead. “I’m pretty sure the road is getting narrower, by the way.”
“Look out your window and tell me how close we are to the edge.”
“Fuck you, Luke. Fuck you, and your little red wagon.”
He smiled and looked over at her. “I don’t have a little red wagon, but I wouldn’t hesitate to buy one for the occasion.”
“Watch the road!”
“I am. You should look though. The tops of the trees look like a carpet from here.”
“I’ll take your word for it. In the brochure they probably should have said to park at the bottom and ride billy goats up.”
“It is an alien museum. They might actually have mutant billy goats that can carry a grown man. Or maybe they have a transporter.”
“I don’t know,” she mused. “If we use their transporter, we might have to tack our two-dollar diner savings back onto our entry fee.”
“What’s the entry fee?”
“Five dollars. Three with the discount.”
“Each?” He whistled. “I should have dressed better.”
“Maybe they’ll have a sports jacket you can borrow. The next time I pick a side trip, remind me to look the route up on my GPS first.”
“Why? We’re perfectly safe. It’s beautiful, if you’ll look.”
“I will on the way back down when I’m not the one right next to the drop-off. Those guard wires don’t look very trustworthy.”
The plateau at the top of the mountain made Ophelia groan with relief. An old house and barn were planted in the middle of the broad clearing, and an old pickup was parked in front of the hand-painted sign proclaiming the museum was open from 11AM-3PM, THURS-SAT, and that the gift shop sold vials of REAL ALIEN DNA! for five dollars.
Luke helped Ophelia out of the SUV, pleased she’d already gotten into the habit of waiting for him to do so. When he closed her door and turned back toward the museum she slid her hand into his, but glanced shyly away as soon as their gazes met.
The front door loudly protested, then released a man with wild white hair and an equally impressive beard. He wore a torn and grease-stained red T-shirt with the museum name and logo emblazoned across the front.
“Welcome to Mitchell’s Museum of Alien Contact!” he said, sounding like a barker at a sideshow.
“You’re Mitchell?” Luke guessed. The name didn’t seem to go with the strong German accent. He extended his hand and the man shook it warmly.
“No, no. My name is Georg Vogl.” He grinned, showing even white teeth that made him seem younger than Luke would have guessed initially.
“Pleased to meet you, Georg. I’m Luke, and this is Ophelia.”
“Ophelia! Beautiful name your wife has. Welcome! Come in!”
Luke waited for Ophelia to object to being called his wife, but the older man had already made his way back into the house.
She shrugged. “From the looks of things we’ll be here twenty minutes, tops.”
“Whatever you say, little missus.”
She smacked his arm, and he pulled her close.
“Do that again. I dare you.”
When she bit her plump bottom lip and stared up at him hopefully he almost groaned.
“Behave, woman.”
With an evil chuckle, she tugged him toward the house, then carefully avoided the broken board on the stairs. Damn. She was getting sassy for a girl who’d initially been shy.
Inside, dusty shelves and showcases lined the front room, hosting an array of extraterrestrial-looking odds and ends—green alien pencil toppers, UFO snow globes, and rings set with what were purported to be pieces of meteorite. Each had a small boutique tag saying how much Georg was asking for the item. Most of the tags looked blank, but upon closer observation Luke could see the marker had only faded in the sun shining in from bare windows.
In the next room, there were exhibits under glass.
“This is a piece of the meteorite that flattened out this part of the mountain,” he said. Without any encouragement, he launched into a rehearsed speech about the history of the area and the numerous alien abductions documented nearby over the past hundred years.
“It’s why I moved here, you see. When I was a boy, in Austria, all I ever wanted was to meet the gray people, but where I lived? Nothing. This mountain, though, is special. When I bought it, people said I was crazy, but what do I care about that?”
Passion shone in Georg’s eyes, and Luke nodded. “Did you buy the museum from Mitchell?” he asked, not willing to let that go. Ophelia’s eyes gleamed as she browsed through the exhibits. Did she believe Georg’s stories or was she just enjoying the whole hokey place? It had almost as much dust as it had character, but there was something about the old man that made you want to visit him regularly, just to give him someone to talk to.
“Here, look at this one.” Georg jabbed a finger at a showcase that had a small pillow in the middle of it. On the pillow was a tiny computer chip, visible only because of the magnifying glass positioned over it. “Every time they come, I find one of these buried in the skin behind my knee, like the microchips veterinarians put into dogs. I dig them out with a penknife, because the hospital doesn’t believe anything is there. Our inferior medical technology won’t show us the small devices aliens implant under our skin.”
He sidled over to Luke and whispered, “You should really check the back of your wife’s knees. She looks like the type of woman they’d want for their breeding program.”
Ophelia glanced over at them, and Georg smile pleasantly, as though he hadn’t just been talking about her. When she looked away again, Georg continued.
“If you want to make sure they don’t track her down again, you need to look for a reddish patch behind the knee that never seems to go away. If you find that, dig just under the skin with something sharp. If you’re squeamish, though, just cover the area with Vaseline before she goes out and it should block the signals they read off the chip.”
Luke managed to keep his expression neutral, and whispered, “If you like going with them so much, why would you assume she wouldn’t? Maybe she won’t want me to interfere.”
Georg shook his head sharply. “Not the same. The women . . . Let’s just say the gray men can have peculiar appetites compared to a human male’s. No decent woman like your wife should be exposed to that sort of depravity.”
These gray men sounded like Luke’s kind of people.
Slowly, and with great showmanship, Georg led them through displays of the gray men’s culture and eating habits, culminating in a small room in which he’d recreated one of their research labs, complete with an exam table and reconstructed alien medical implements.
When a phone rang and Georg stepped out of the room for a moment, Ophelia leaned in. “I heard his warning.”
“I wonder which of these things is the probe he thinks you’re too ladylike for?” He pinched her ass and she smothered a laugh.
“Maybe he thinks the bed restraints will freak me out.”
“Won’t they?”
She lifted her chin and looked him bravely in the eye. “After last night?” Her shrug seemed like a dare. “Do you really think bed restraints will intimidate me?”
“We could try tonight, but there’s only one alien probe I’m interested in using on you.”
“Dirty.”
“I blame you.”
“Oh, you were like this when I found you . . . or I suppose I should say when you borrowed me without permission.”
Behind them, Georg cleared his throat. “If you’d care to join me, I’ll bring you out to the barn. I’ve constructed a quarter-s
ized model of the gray men’s most commonly used ship. No one else has seen it yet!”
They followed him out, ready to be suitably impressed.
Later, before they got in the SUV for the long trek back down the mountain, Georg insisted Luke buy his beautiful wife a necklace, from which dangled a tiny vial of alien DNA.
For the rest of the drive to Glacier, they speculated about what superpowers she might develop if the vial leaked.
Chapter 9
They drove through a winding forest road for what felt like forever before finally reaching the park entrance. A big brown sign greeted them.
GLACIER NATIONAL PARK.
Immediately, Ophelia was swept up in her emotions. Something deep in her soul lightened with excitement and anticipation. This was a way to connect with her father again. It was difficult to hold back tears while Luke drove past the sign and farther into the woods. She only hoped it lived up to her expectations.
Tall trees corralled them on both sides. She rolled her window down, wanting to experience all of it at once. The wind rushed in, swirling her hair around her face. The air was crisp and smelled like cedar. The traveling fog that had been holding her mind hostage lifted, and she was intensely present and in the moment.
There’d been a lot of that feeling over the past two days. Her life had become so far removed from what was real, like she’d been sleepwalking through her days and weeks and months. Today, now, the sun on the trees and the wind in her face were all that mattered.
“I think we just follow this road to the lodge,” Luke said, squinting ahead.
Most of her father’s hotels were elegant resorts and high-end hotels. But here, a lodge felt more . . . right. The quality and service would be the same as all of his hotels, but people came to national parks for their rugged appeal. Here, it couldn’t be the same as a hotel in Paris or a Mexican beach resort.
“How are you doing?” he asked, looking over at her. They hadn’t spoken since entering the park, and she knew it was obvious she’d drifted off into her thoughts.
“Okay,” she mumbled. After a pause, she added, “Kind of weird.”
“You said it’s one of your dad’s lodges?”
She nodded. “This place . . .” she gazed out the window, “it was his inspiration.”
She really didn’t want to get into it much more than that. Her feelings were still too raw and she wasn’t sure what she was hoping for coming here anyway. Inspiration? To do what? Follow in his footsteps? Like she could ever hold a candle to the man. Hopefully, Luke would drop the subject.
After a few moments of silence, he said, “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
They drove further into the park on the long, level road. There were mountains up ahead but they still looked too distant to get excited about. Her dad had fallen in love with the scenery here, and she was starting to feel the same way. She was eager to go exploring. For now, she was even enjoying the drive.
About thirty minutes later, she spotted a sign.
LAKEVIEW LODGE.
An arrow pointed ahead and Luke slowed to a crawl. On the left, the trees cleared, revealing a chalet that almost seemed to grow out of its surroundings. The architect had been brilliant—the building lovely and natural, not marring the perfection of its setting.
Luke pulled into a parking spot on the small lot next to the building. It was nearly empty but Ophelia knew it wasn’t because the lodge was vacant. Most people came in by train or bus, or even on foot.
They both climbed out of the car. She inhaled a deep breath and stretched her limbs, which were numb from the long car ride. Luke opened the trunk and started to grab their bags, then stopped.
“I guess we should make sure they have a room,” he said. “We didn’t exactly call ahead.”
She hadn’t called for a reservation but all of her father’s hotels saved a suite in his name, just in case he or his family traveled through.
“They have a room for us,” she told him confidently.
“Oookay,” he replied, then pulled out both duffel bags they’d loaded with new clothes from the sporting goods store.
Ophelia turned in a circle, looking past the dirt parking lot. Behind the lodge, a turquoise lake stretched out like an oval mirror. A blanket of green surrounded it then gradually faded to browns, grays, and whites as her gaze moved to the far-off mountain peaks.
Beautiful. So beautiful that “beautiful” seemed like a stupid, hollow word. But she had a feeling she’d barely scratched the surface.
Luke was already several paces toward the lodge. He turned to her. “Not backing out now, are you?”
She shook her head. “Not a chance.”
Potted flowers hung from the lodge’s overhanging roof, and oversized wooden rocking chairs looked inviting on the wraparound porch. She smiled at a little girl rocking in one, giggling, dwarfed by the big seat.
They walked into the lodge and immediately she was greeted by the pleasant scent of cut wood. The foyer, like all of her father’s hotels, was a huge open area with a high ceiling. Instead of crystal chandeliers, there was a moose antler light. And instead of fancy paintings and statues, there were sculptures from the area and wildlife photographs. A large fireplace dominated the middle of the lobby with cozy couches angled around it. But even with all the rugged accessories, it gave the impression of comfortable splendor.
“I’ll ask if there’s a room.” Luke made for the reception desk.
“No.” She followed him, chuckling. “I have the magic last name.”
He gave her a puzzled look but let her take the lead. As she’d expected, there was a suite available. After they got their room key, a bellhop approached, but Luke waved him off.
The lodge was only three floors—probably the smallest of Covington’s hotels, but it suited Glacier better than anything else would have. They took the elevator to the third floor and found their room at the end of the hallway.
Luke walked in first and whistled as he looked around. “This place is amazing.” He turned and smiled at her. “Your dad had great taste.”
She smiled back. “He did.” His hotels were classy without being too over-the-top. She always admired him for that. Of course he’d hired professional designers, but he hadn’t shied away from giving his own opinions as well.
She had a vivid memory from when she was about six or seven. He’d been arguing with an interior designer about curtains for a London hotel. When it came down to a final decision, he’d let Ophelia choose. She still remembered how special it’d made her feel. But then . . . he’d always made her feel special—important.
The inside of the suite matched the rest of the lodge with the natural theme. There were three rooms. A sitting room with couch, a chair, and TV in the corner. Off to the side, it opened up to two bedrooms. She wandered over. One had two queen-sized beds, so she moved to the next. The second bedroom was larger and contained what looked even bigger than a king-sized bed. There was a mirror on one wall and two nightstands.
Wildlife photography hung on the walls. The curtains and bed coverings were neutral and looked expensive. The cedar smell had stayed in the lobby and changed to a calming vanilla in the room. A door was opened partway on the right and she pushed through it, revealing a giant, stone-tiled bathroom featuring a decadent walk-in shower, a Jacuzzi, and two sinks.
She couldn’t wait to use the Jacuzzi later. It would feel amazing after a long hike. She turned back to the room and watched Luke drop their bags next to the bed.
“What should we do first?” He pulled a stack of pamphlets out of his back pocket then plopped down onto the bed.
Hesitantly, Ophelia joined him. She wasn’t sure being on the same bed was such a good idea if they were going to do anything other than have sex today. Their chemistry was too intense. And right now, she wasn’t really in the mood to mess around. Her hardenin
g nipples said otherwise, but she didn’t want to be in the mood. She wanted to explore what the park had to offer, and try to figure out what her dad would have wanted for her.
Luke handed her a few pamphlets and they looked through them. There was one for a ride through the mountains in big double-decker busses. But doing a guided tour seemed kind of . . . constraining. She wanted to explore on her own terms.
“Hmm.” She placed that one on the bed.
Luke raised a brow. “No bus tour?”
“No. Do you have a map?”
He flipped through the papers in his hand, then passed one to her. She unfolded it and grinned. Open, it was half the size of the bed and showed hiking trails and lookout points, plus lakes and rivers too.
“Do you know where you want to go?” Luke asked, gazing down at the map.
She shook her head. “I just . . . want to explore. I want to experience everything my dad did. Fall in love with this place like he did. Without a tour guide.”
Luke fingered a lock of her hair that had fallen into her face then brushed it back. Unable to help herself, she leaned into his touch.
“You miss him,” he stated rather than asked.
A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it back, then nodded.
He looked over at the bedside clock. “Almost dinner time. What do you say we explore the area around the lodge for now, then grab some food? First thing tomorrow, we’ll go for a hike.”
Regaining her composure, she smiled shakily. “That sounds good. I want to clean up first though.” She was sweaty from sitting so long in the car.
“Sure.” He gestured toward the bathroom. “Looks like you have some choices in there.”
“Shower is fine.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll be quick.”
The slate floor was cold on her bare feet inside the shower but warmed up once she ran the water. She hummed to herself as she washed the remnants of traveling off her body. Her eyes drifted shut as she let the water pour down her hair and back.
Everything had felt so surreal up to this point. Being with Luke, her crazy fantasies fulfilled and then some, the weird bond they were forming . . . It was almost like a dream. Or like an out-of-body experience. It wasn’t happening to her, but to someone else, and she was there feeling it with them. She still couldn’t believe how it’d all fallen into place. Who’d have guessed a criminal stealing her car would lead to all of this?
Fueling His Hunger Page 11