Chapter 38
West rents a SUV, and early Friday afternoon, we pull into the small town of Mountain Lady, North Carolina. Village more accurately describes it, like something straight out of a centuries-old novel.
We cruise our way through the community, and I check out the various shops—leather, glass-blowing, taffy, iron works, and many more.
“I had Omar stock the kitchen,” West tells me. “We’ll be good to go for the weekend. Won’t have to leave unless we want to.”
“Omar?”
“He takes care of the property.”
We cross railroad tracks, and I catch sight of a grocery store. Across the street is a log cabin restaurant that seems to be doing good business. Down the road is a post office. Beside that sits a doctor’s office.
“This place is adorable.”
West turns onto a gravel road and points to a snow-covered mountain in the distance. “Across the hills and to that peak is where we’re going.”
“Seems far away.” Seems perfect.
He turns on the radio, and for the next thirty minutes or so, we wind back and forth on the gravel road through the winter trees and to the top of the mountain.
I imagine with a good snowfall, this place is impassible, and in the summer it’s probably so covered in green you can’t even see the cabins dotting the mountain.
We cross a creek and hang a left. West points to a small cottage with a beautiful greenhouse on the left. “That’s where Omar lives.”
A little farther up, and the trees open to reveal a cleared area. A log cabin sits built into the slope of the ridge with half of it extending out on stilts. Underneath sits a Jeep, a dune buggy, and two motorcycles.
West pulls up and cuts the engine. “Here we are.”
I open the SUV door, climb out, and just stand taking in the scenery.
From down below, this mountain had looked thick and uninhabitable, but from up here, it looks out over snow-filled valleys with other cabins spotted here and there.
Way in the distance sits the tiny town we had arrived in, with a bubbling river weaving through it all.
“It’s like something out of a magazine.”
A dog barks, and its sound echoes around us. “That’s Jake,” West tells me as a black lab bursts through the trees and gallops toward us.
When he reaches us, he immediately sits, and I squat down and give him a rub. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” He leans into the rub, granting me this loopy look that makes me want to keep rubbing. “I never had a dog before. I might just have to make up for that and spoil you while I’m here.”
West grabs our stuff from the back. “Come on.”
I follow him around the house and up stone steps to the front door. He wipes his boots on the mat and lets us both in. Jake pushes past, his nails clicking across the hardwood floor, and prances over to plop down on a rug in front of the fireplace. He knows his way around.
With gleaming dark wood floors, walls, and rafters, one huge great room contains the kitchen and living room, and a bank of windows to the left looks out over the valley.
“There are two rooms down here and the loft upstairs.” West puts our stuff down. “I usually sleep in the loft, but if you want it, that’s fine, and I’ll sleep down here.”
That comment brings me such relief. Which is just silly. West and I have slept together before.
Someone knocks on the door, and I turn to see this little man with gray hair and a scowl. “Oh, that’s right. You’re here this weekend.”
West greets him. “Hey, Omar. This is Eve.”
Omar turns his scowl on me and my blue hair. “How long are you staying?”
“Same as West. The weekend.”
He sniffs. “You work for that rock group, too?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hm,” he grunts, then just keeps studying me.
Why is he just looking at me? I reach up to tug my ball cap down before remembering I’m not wearing one.
“Do I know you?” he asks.
“N-no, sir.”
Omar gives another grunt before turning toward the door. “Well, you know where I’ll be if you need me.”
I offer a faint smile, but way down deep, something nags. Did Omar recognize me? There’s no way he could know who I am.
Is there?