Out of the Cold

Chapter One

Lucy Pond clenched the steering wheel until her knuckles ached and guided her Honda Civic around yet another hairpin turn. If she turned her head, she’d be able to see straight down the cliff edge, but she kept her eyes dead ahead and held her breath as a truck barreled down the mountain from the opposite direction.

She groaned in relief at the sight of a scenic lookout and gratefully pulled her car off the road. She shoved the door open, then stepped out and stretched, breathing in the scent of pine. It was warmer than she’d expected, but then she hadn’t yet left the Sierra Nevada foothills. She still had a long way to go up the mountain.

Opening the back door, she snapped a leash on Hildegard and released the German Shepherd from her safety harness to sniff and do her business near the wooden railing.

The acrid smoke of northern wildfires drifted on a gust of wind. It had been a bad fire season. In July, a blanket of smoke had settled over San Francisco, and every day brought news of more evacuations from parts of California and even Oregon. They were contained now, fire season nearly over, but now she was undergoing her own personal evacuation. From the outside, she looked like a woman embarking on an adventure, but she was more like a mouse flushed from its hole.

Pressure bloomed in her chest, stealing the oxygen from her lungs, and her vision started to go gray. She dropped into a crouch and put her head between her legs, counting as she drew each breath in as slowly as possible, releasing the air out on several more counts.

Her dog’s wet nose on her cheek had her letting out a muffled laugh. Some days, Hilde was the only thing keeping her sane.

She stayed crouched for several more seconds, but the tunnel vision didn’t come. That was progress. Her head swam as she stood, but when she looked around again, the world was back in full color. The early November sun was still strong, and the buttery gold of aspens glowed against evergreens on the hillsides below.

Back in the car, she continued her slow ascent, her entire body rigid as she hugged the yellow line down the middle of the road, as far from the edge as she could get without invading the other lane. Back east, there were railings along the dangerous sections of the road, but there was no way to do that for an entire mountain. She could disappear over the side without anyone even knowing.

Sweat broke out beneath her arms and on the small of her back. She stared straight ahead and drove toward the trees marching up the mountain in wave upon wave, blue-green in the shadows.

All she had to do was make it to Len’s cabin. She could do this.

Fifteen minutes later, she breathed a sigh of relief as she passed a sign for Jeffrey, California, elevation 5,817 feet. It wasn’t exactly Mount Everest, but it was pretty high up for a girl from Florida.

Signs of civilization came next—a cabin here and there through the trees, a lone gas station and a smattering of motels, and soon she was passing a snowmobile shop and lumber yard.

She glanced at the printed email with Len’s directions for the last few miles her GPS wouldn’t cover and turned right before hitting the town proper. The paved roads turned to gravel before long, then dirt.

“We made it, Hilde,” she called to the back seat as a small sign reading “Sugar Pine Lodge” came into view. She turned down the pitted driveway, laughing at the sight of Hilde in the rearview mirror, her nose in the air to catch all the new scents.

A break in the woods opened up, and the cabin came into view.

She hadn’t asked any questions when Len had offered its use. He’d told her she could stay as long as she wanted, so long as she was out by the end of May when his family came to stay. She’d been grateful, relieved enough to cry when she got off the phone. She hadn’t asked how far it was from town or the nearest neighbor, or how big it was. All she’d cared about was that it was free and available.

But this was way beyond what she’d imagined. Where she’d been expecting a humble little cabin, this was new and modern. A wealthy person’s retreat, rustic wood built with modern lines and set in a clearing with a scattering of trees, some leafy, some evergreen.

It was chilly when she stepped out of the car, and her arms instantly pebbled with goosebumps. Not that much colder than San Francisco, but she’d stupidly packed her heavier coat somewhere in her bags. She’d have to dig it out.

This time when she let the dog out, she didn’t put a leash on her. Hilde flew off the seat and put her nose to the ground.

Grabbing her laptop case and a roller bag full of clothes, she made her way to the door. As Len had promised, the caretaker had left it unlocked for her.

Rather than the chill of an unoccupied house, she stepped into the cozy warmth of a home up and running, ready for her. It smelled of a lit fire and the clean, bright scent of the wood it was built from. A short hallway led to bedrooms off to the left. To the right, a big open kitchen flowed into a living room. In the middle of the outside wall a hulking woodstove gave off luxurious heat.

A cabin on steroids, rustic but with every comfort.

Every comfort except another human. But that was okay. She needed to finish her book, and there’d be distractions up here.

She stared down at the woodstove, wondering if she’d ever have the nerve to start a fire in it. Maybe the caretaker would keep it going for her?

Hilde’s barking broke into her thoughts. In seconds, she was out the door and rounding the corner of the house.

She stopped cold.

The man was enormous. Granted, she was only five foot two, but he was a foot taller than her and built like a lumberjack with dark eyes, thick dark hair, and a beard. He would have been disturbingly handsome if not for his ferocious expression.

Len had warned her the caretaker was intimidating, but he’d assured her Gabriel would take good care of her.

Hilde was standing in his path and emitting a low, ominous growl.

“Hilde, come,” she commanded. The dog hesitated, then came to sit beside her feet. “You must be Gabriel,” she said, smiling in relief. “I’m Lucy. Thank you for getting the cabin ready.”

He looked her up and down as if her very presence were an affront to him. His expression didn’t soften. “There’s your wood,” he said, pointing behind her.

She turned to see a tarp-covered pile set against the back of the house. “Right. Great.”

“For the woodstove. You do know how to use one, right?”

“Of course.” She’d never seen a woodstove before now, never mind lit a fire in one, but his tone set her on edge. “Is that the only way to heat the house?”

“There’s electric heat, but the woodstove’s much cheaper and more efficient, and it works even when you lose power. I’d keep the electric heat to the bedroom and bathroom you use. Keep the doors to the rooms you don’t use closed.”

“Does the electricity go out often?” she asked.

“I wasn’t here last winter, but from what I understand, they lose power pretty regularly. Just make sure you don’t let the fire go out. It’s easier to keep it going than to start it up again.”

She was trying to keep up with what he was telling her while also breathing, but it was getting harder and harder. She’d been here all of ten minutes and the most basic functions of the house had already thwarted her. And if she wasn’t mistaken, Gabriel was testing her.

His voice receded along with her surroundings as the pressure in her chest grew and her breath sawed in and out. Her vision went gray at the edges, and she dropped to her knees with her head in her hands. The ground was cold and hard, a little damp.

Hilde whined and licked her cheek.

“Are you okay?” Gabriel asked, crouching beside her.

“I can’t breathe.”

“It’s the altitude,” he said, voice low and soothing. “Takes a while to get used to it, but you will.” His hand, broad and warm, settled on her shoulder. “Relax. You’ll get enough air, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

As unwelcoming as he’d been only moments before, his hand grounded her and his low voice broke through her panic.

“Breathe in. That’s it. Now let it out slowly. You’ve got it.”

Gradually her breathing became easier and her alarm eased a fraction. So maybe not a panic attack, maybe it only felt like one. Either way, he thought it was the altitude, which allowed her to save face.

Gabriel came back into focus, and there was genuine concern in his dark brown eyes. He was close enough that she could see the fine lines fanning out from the corners. Either he laughed a lot or he spent a lot of time outside. She’d bet on the latter.

“I’ve never been this high up,” she said, getting to her feet.

He stood with her, his hand on her elbow. “No? How high have you been?”

“San Francisco.”

“They do have some pretty big hills there,” he said, his eyes amused. “Is that where you live?”

“Yes. Or no, I did live there, but I’m from Florida.” She took a deep breath, testing. Her heart was still pounding, but her panic had subsided.

He was watching her, assessing. “You sure you’re all right?”

Those brown eyes of his, so disdainful a few minutes ago, were almost kind. Maybe he wasn’t a total ogre.

“I’ll be fine. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

“I was only chopping wood.”

“Really? It looks like there’s plenty,” she said, scanning the enormous pile stacked against the cabin and the even bigger pile near the trees.

“All that was cut last year and had time to season. What I’m cutting now will be used next year. Between both houses, we go through a lot in a winter.”

Looking past him, she saw a much smaller cabin on the other side of a stand of trees maybe two hundred yards away. A little bridge spanned what must have been a stream.

“I see,” she said, her stomach sinking. Even in Florida, electric heat was ridiculously expensive if you used it all the time. She was going to have to deal with the woodstove.

He studied her before speaking. “Are you sure this is where you want to be?”

That look was back again. Like he owned the mountain, and she was an interloper. The worst part was she felt like one, too. She didn’t belong here, and he could tell.

“I’ve always wanted to vacation in the mountains,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m looking forward to the peace and quiet.”

He was frowning again, unconvinced. Or maybe displeased that he was stuck with her.

“Well, you’ll get plenty of that.” He looked back at her little Honda Civic, at the boxes and suitcases piled nearly to the ceiling. “I’ll give you a hand with those.”

He was already opening her little sedan and hauling boxes out—ones she’d packed helter-skelter while still reeling from the loss of life as she knew it. Everything she owned was inside that vehicle. She hadn’t brought a ton with her when she’d moved west, and before this trip she’d sold anything that didn’t fit in her car. Most of the furniture in the apartment had been Mark’s.

Wanting to do something, she yanked a suitcase out of the trunk, only to stumble backwards when its weight slammed into her.

But instead of falling on her butt in the hard-packed dirt, she slammed into Gabriel’s enormous, muscled body.

His hands circled her waist as he set her on her feet. “I’ll get all this,” he muttered. His massive arm reached over and plucked the suitcase out of her hands. “Why don’t you wait inside where it’s warm?”

She hesitated, unsure if she should go along with his suggestion. Would he think even less of her if she let him do all the work?

Judging by the look on Gabriel’s face, he’d be happier if she stayed out of the way.

When she’d moved into her first apartment, her father and three older brothers had come by and taken care of everything. Lugged all the boxes in, put up curtain rods and pictures, repaired rickety stairs. They all knew it was a big deal. She was twenty-seven and had wanted to move for years, but the treatments she underwent for leukemia in high school had affected her for long afterward. It had been all she could do to take college courses part time.

Gabriel wasn’t helping her out of the kindness of his heart, but she wasn’t going to make herself look more foolish by insisting they work together. She followed him into the cabin and explored the bedrooms on the other side of the house while he brought in the rest of her things.

Her mother texted asking if she’d made it, and her friend Cara texted a photo of a hot guy wearing a tool belt and no shirt. Is this the caretaker?

She smiled, her dread lifting ever so slightly. Ever since Lucy told her there was a caretaker on the property, Cara had been sending photos like this. Lucy looked up as Gabriel brought more boxes in and set them on the floor. She was going to have to sneak a photo of him for Cara, but the last thing she needed right now was him catching her doing something that sketchy.

The real thing’s even hotter, but much grumpier, she wrote back. More later.

***

G abe stacked the last box against the front wall and tested it to make sure it wouldn’t topple. “That’s everything.”

“Thank you.”

She stood there, gazing wide-eyed at her belongings, looking as lost as anyone he’d ever seen. She was still pale and breathing in shallow little pants, like she might faint for real this time. Maybe he should stay and help her sort things out.

No. He couldn’t do everything for her, no matter how vulnerable she seemed. She was going to have to get used to it up here.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, his hand on the door. He gave a last glance at the pile of boxes. “Maybe you should wait before you unpack everything.”

Her gaze went straight to him, piercing and fierce. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t think you’re going to like it here. You may as well save yourself the trouble of packing it all up again.”

“I suppose only enormous he-men are allowed to live here?”

“Plenty of women are comfortable in this kind of environment, but you obviously don’t have any experience with it.”

She turned her back on him, her slender body rigid with anger, and busied herself opening a box.

He gave a frustrated sigh. “Let me know if you need anything. You know where I am.”

He let himself out, shutting the door carefully behind him, and strode around the side of the house and across the bridge he’d recently repaired, muttering to himself. His bad mood only worsened as he stomped across the front porch of his cabin and through the front door. He stood there, nerves jangling with frustration—at her, at Len.

At himself.

But mostly at Len, who never should have invited her up here.

“You’re going to have company this winter after all,” Len had said when he called two weeks ago.

As if this were a piece of good news.

Len’s family had been gone since the middle of summer, and he’d become accustomed to having the property to himself. Had been counting on it, in fact.

“Are you coming up after all?” he asked.

“No, no. It doesn’t make sense, not with Suzy’s surgery next month. I’ve offered it to a friend who’s in between places and needs somewhere to stay for a bit.”

These phone calls with Len were always hard. As much as he liked the man, he barely spoke to anyone these days, in person or on the phone, and it took an effort to sound normal.

“When should I expect him?” he asked.

“It’s a her, as a matter of fact. Lucy Pond. She’ll be arriving on November fifth. I’d be grateful if you’d get the cabin ready, so it’s comfortable when she gets there.”

It wasn’t his place to ask questions. He worked for Len, after all, and lived for free in his cabin. Not that he couldn’t have paid for it, but that was the arrangement, and it was what he needed right now. Physical labor, peace and quiet.

“Sure, Len.”

“She’s a little fragile these days, but you’ll adore her. She’s as lovely as they come.”

That was already perfectly obvious, which was why the look of betrayal in those sad eyes, dark brown and tipped down at the corners, stayed with him.

Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested she wait to unpack, but he wasn’t wrong. What was Len thinking, giving her the place for the winter? She looked like a stiff wind would blow her over, and she’d practically fainted right in front of him.

Not that he exactly blamed her for having trouble with the altitude, but she had no idea what she was getting herself into. She’d never even experienced winter, for God’s sake. He was a caretaker for the property, not a babysitter.

His phone’s ringtone interrupted his churning thoughts.

Hardly anyone called him anymore. That’s what happened when you ignored everyone for months on end. But it was his sister, Natalie. He only hesitated for a second. Not since his worst days last year had he avoided her calls.

“Hey, Nat,” he answered, forcing some cheer into his voice.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

He could also hear traffic, wind, and the occasional horn blast, which was deeply annoying. Natalie always called him from the car, because she was always in the car, driving around L.A. from one client’s house to another, redesigning their interiors.

“I’m calling in an official capacity. Mom wants to know if you’ll be coming for Thanksgiving.”

“Why isn’t she calling me herself?”

“I’m supposed to get a reading and report back. She thinks you never tell her anything.”

“What’s there to tell?”

“Gabe.”

He hated the sorrow in her voice whenever she stopped being relentlessly breezy. She’d been there for him from the moment Ricky died, offering to listen if he wanted to talk, even driving straight to Sacramento when he didn’t return her calls for a week. He’d come into Ricky’s life as a Big Brother and stayed in his life as family. But he couldn’t talk about it then, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He appreciated her checking in anyway. It was always good to hear her voice.

“I’m not sure about Thanksgiving. Maybe if it was only the four of us I’d come down, but I can’t deal with twenty people all asking how I’m doing.”

“They’re your family. Being all alone up there isn’t good for you. You need to be around people who love you.”

“I know it seems that way to you, but that doesn’t always help.”

Natalie drew in a sharp breath, and he inwardly cursed himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I need some space. Living here is doing me good. The mountains help me.”

“I remember the first time you came back from that camp. You went on and on about the trees and sky and who knows what else. I was so mad you got to go to camp, and then you came back acting like it had changed your life.”

“It did.”

“I know. Too bad they didn’t have camps for kids who wanted to study interior design.”

He’d gone to that camp from the age of eleven to sixteen, and spent another couple of summers during college as a full-fledged counselor, teaching kids from urban areas all the things to love in the mountains. He smiled just thinking about it.

“You did okay, anyway.”

“It’s you I’m worried about. I hate thinking of you all alone. It feels like we lost you, too.”

He sank into the rocking chair next to the woodstove. “It’s okay, Nat.” It came out gruff and impatient, even though he was trying to reassure her. “This is where I need to be. Besides, I’m not exactly alone anymore. Someone’s staying at the house.”

“Really? Who?”

He shouldn’t have said anything. Now she’d be asking about it whenever they talked. “Her name is Lucy. I’m not exactly sure what she’s doing here. She’s in way over her head.”

“She has you to help her. She’ll be fine.”

He didn’t bother telling her he wasn’t the guy people came to anymore. That was a thing of the past. Natalie still thought of him that way because she hadn’t seen him enough to know otherwise—or maybe she didn’t want to know.

“Will she be there for Thanksgiving?”

“I have no idea. She only got here today.”

“Hmm. Is she pretty?”

With her faraway eyes, delicate features, and long dark-blonde hair, she was more than pretty—she was beautiful. When she’d come around the house and smiled that warm, sweet smile, for a few glorious seconds, he’d forgotten why her presence was his worst nightmare.

But he wasn’t telling Natalie any of that. “Not my type.”

If she saw through his dodge, she was letting it pass. “I’m pulling up to my next client, so I’d better go. Please, at least think about Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it. I’ll give Mom a call soon.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she said, worry once again creeping in.

He answered with all the enthusiasm he could muster. “You bet.”