Chapter 7 Wyndham
WYNDHAM
Tiny paws kneading my chest woke me, followed by a rough tongue licking my chin. I grumbled that I needed to sleep more, but a second pair of paws stood on my shoulder.
“Okay, I’m up.” I wasn’t, but I opened one eye. That counted as me being up, I figured.
Now that I was moving around, the kittens curled up on the other pillow and went to sleep. Great, I was wide awake and they were snoozing. I should name the feisty little beasts, but there were so many other things to consider and deal with.
There were no sounds coming from the kitchen. I doubted Ambrose was a sleep-in kinda guy. Maybe he was out woodchopping or wrangling wild animals. That was a stretch, but as he didn’t give me details, my imagination went into overdrive.
I stretched and tested my ankle. There was a slight twinge but not as much pain as yesterday, so that was a plus. I swung my legs over the mattress and onto the floor. My ankle was still tender, and a little swollen, but it was much improved.
Now that I was up, the kittens decided they didn’t want to stay in bed.
They leaped off the bed and chased one another around the room.
The black one pounced on his sibling, and they rolled together in a ball of fur and tiny squeaks.
The little girl claimed victory and ran between my legs, almost tripping me up.
They tore into the main room when I cracked the door, and headed for Ambrose’s feet.
He was sitting at the table drinking coffee, and he bent over and tickled the tiny beasts.
When he glanced at me, his hair had flopped over his brow, and there was that look again.
The one I couldn’t figure out. I was split between serial killer and him experiencing the same emotions I was when I looked at him.
“Morning.”
His eyes trailed from my face lower and lower again, and they lingered at my crotch region before focusing on my ankle.
My pulse sped up, thinking I was in an Olympic sprint.
My face flamed. If it had been anyone else eyeing me, I would have picked up a dish towel and fanned my heated skin.
But I looked away and pretended to pay attention to the kittens.
“How’s the ankle?”
“Better.” I could have said much better, as that was an accurate description, but I didn’t want Ambrose to respond with “I should get you home.”
“Excellent.” He pointed to the stovetop. “There’s fresh coffee.”
With my back to him, I took deep breaths until the raging blush on my cheeks calmed. And after pouring a large mug, I joined him at the table. Taking a large sip calmed me, and my pulse stopped racing, which was odd ‘cause caffeine would normally do the opposite.
“This is good.” I didn’t know what else to say and wanted to fill the silence with chatter. But as I took another sip, the world outside the window wasn’t the same as yesterday. “More snow?”
“At least another six inches.”
The word “goody” popped into my head, but I furrowed my brow and told Ambrose that wasn’t ideal for getting my car out and me returning home. He apologized for my holiday being ruined.
“Are you kidding? This is the best vacation I’ve ever had. Twenty-four-hour room service, plenty of sleep, and the entertainment provided by those little monsters.”
Ambrose stared into his mug, and the tips of his ears were pink, the same color as the kittens’ tongues. I was tempted to reach out and lift his chin so I could stare into those dark eyes.
“I’m glad.” He chugged half his coffee. “My brother and his friend will be over to help with your car as soon as the road’s passable.”
After getting hyped that I’d be here for days, maybe a week, that news was a bummer. I’d be leaving Ambrose and have no reason to come out here unless I could convince the boss to hold a conference in the lodge I never got to visit.
“Sounds good.”
He said we’d have to wait and see what shape the car was in. Was there something wrong with me that I hoped it was totaled? I had excellent insurance, so that wasn’t an issue.
“But don’t worry about it. There’s nothing we can do until we get it out.”
The black kitten distracted us by launching itself at a curtain and clinging to the fabric. I made to get up, thinking he’d rip it. That was what I’d do in my own home. But Ambrose was hands-off and laughed.
“They’re adorable.”
He got up and rescued the kitten as it dangled from the curtain. He kissed the little one and put him next to his sister, who was tearing up an old newspaper. But they got bored, and one leaped onto Ambrose’s lap, and the other climbed onto my shoulder and scratched my head.
“I’m going to miss them when you leave.”
I refused to split them up and give one to Ambrose, much as he may have wanted one. Not that he’d said that. Maybe he was being polite and couldn’t wait to get rid of them and me.
The kittens had lost their mom, gotten separated in a snowstorm, and almost died. They needed to stay together with me. Unless Ambrose wanted to keep both. But I’d fight him for the right to have those furry balls of fluff in my life.
He asked me if I’d thought of names, and I laughed because I hadn’t until just now.
“I was thinking of Crash and Burn.” That was nothing to do with the accident but their behavior in the cabin.
“No. You can’t name them that. They’re too cute, and they’re babies. They don’t know they’re not supposed to attack the Christmas tree.”
The black kitten was batting one of the Christmas ornaments on a lower branch of the tree.
“Okay, fine, those are horrible choices. How about Tinsel and Mistletoe.”
“Better.”
We decided Tinsel was the little boy, and we named the girl Mistletoe. Tinsel wound himself around my legs, and I scooped him up and put him on my lap.
“You’re so good with them. You’ll make a great dad some day.”
Another flaming blush threatened to brighten my face, but I held Tinsel close so his fur hid my cheeks. I didn’t say that the kitten loved him too. That sounded like I wanted us to stay together because of the kids, and it was a little weird.
But thinking of weird brought up another conversation topic.
“I had the strangest dream last night.”
Ambrose reacted as though he’d been shot. He sat up straight and white-knuckled his mug. “Oh, really?” His voice was more high-pitched than usual, and his cheeks were drained of color.
“Mmm. It was really confusing but very vivid. There were lots of shadows and bright lights.” I scratched Tinsel, while Mistletoe inspected Ambrose’s mug. “I was in the woods near where I’d crashed, and the reindeer was there, the one who led me here.”
“The reindeer.” His voice gave nothing away.
“But get this. In my dream, it wasn't just a wild animal.”
Ambrose was sitting on the edge of his seat while I tried to pin down the elusive images. “There was a guy. I couldn’t see his face properly because there was mist and snow was falling.”
Beads of sweat lined Ambrose’s upper lip. “So you didn’t get a look at him and you wouldn’t recognize him again?”
Huh? If I thought my dream was weird, him thinking I might see the guy in real life was odd.
I laughed because I’d made a mistake bringing it up. “It makes no sense. Dreams rarely do.” I paid attention to the kitten while I thought of what to say next. “But I felt as though I was supposed to be there.” Now I’d confirmed the dream was loop-de-loop, because dreams didn’t reflect reality.
Instead of laughing it off or launching into an explanation about the meaning of dreams, Ambrose was very still. I stared at his chest to make sure he was still breathing.
“That was strange,” he said in a monotone.
I’d been meaning to ask him about the reindeer. “Does the reindeer live around here?”
“He’s probably moved on. They don’t stay in one place long.” He was gripping his mug, and I wondered if he had a problem with the reindeer, like he’d knocked over a fence or damaged his car.
He got up and emptied the rest of his coffee into the sink. And with his back to me, he said he’d make breakfast. He was deflecting, but what was it about a reindeer or my dream that had him acting squirrely?