Chapter 10
Ten
“NEXT UP . . .” Joel said, handing Cassie the flashlight she’d left on the counter.
“Thanks.” She tucked a random slip of hair beneath her flower-patterned stocking cap.
He smiled. He’d always loved that cap. The way it framed her sweet face and the jade lit her green eyes.
“Joel? You still with me?”
“Yep.” He coughed. “Let’s go this way.” He stepped to a narrow corner crook at the rear of the kitchen she’d never have seen if he hadn’t taken her there.
A faded door with whitewashed planks and an arched top stood at the end of the alcove nook.
Joel opened the door. It creaked long and low, pricking the nerves along her spine.
“Yikes!”
“I know.” He hitched his belt. “Always makes that awful sound. First time I heard it as a kid, I figured it was haunted—mostly because of Jayce’s campfire stories. I bolted out of here so fast I ran smack into Mr. Stan.”
“I imagine that didn’t go over well.”
“Stan was great. Still is. Brought me back down here and showed me all the cool stuff he keeps in the cubbies.” He pulled his stocking cap off and raked a hand through his mussed hair before sliding the blue cap back on. “Never scared me again.”
That must be nice.
“Now,” he said, taking the first rickety step and holding out his hand. “If I were Heath, I’d be making a crack about who wants to go down the creepy steps into the dark cellar of the abandoned lodge first.”
She chuckled and put her hand in his. Peace sifted through her.
His gaze fixed on her in the tiny confines, their flashlights casting a warm glow.
She swallowed. “Thankfully, you’re not Heath.”
Joel laughed. “He ain’t all bad.”
“I know. I just don’t see a nice guy like Talbot being friends with the obnoxious guy. Well, obnoxious sometimes. But it’s more . . .” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Heath gives me a funky vibe at work sometimes.”
Joel narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“He just hangs around in places I’ll be. It’s . . . weird.”
He raked a hand through his tussled hair again.
Could he be any cuter?
“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Cass. You’ve had more than your share of creeps. At least your stalker is gone.”
Or so she’d thought.
“Watch your step,” Joel said, helping her down one steps. He paused at a missing one.
Her eyes widened at the gap. “What happened there?”
Joel shrugged. “Must have fallen off a while ago.”
She swished her flashlight down. It took a moment of searching, but her light found the snapped board lying against the packed dirt floor far from where it originated. “How old is this place?”
“Opened in 1921.”
“Whoa. Older than I realized.”
Creaks eked out with each step they took to the bottom of the stairwell. Though what could be considered an actual stairwell was far different in her mind.
The space held an earthy vibe, like fresh soil in a garden just before dawn—damp, rich, and something she couldn’t place. “So . . . this is the cellar.” She swiped her light around, jumping at the deer head on the wall.
He rested his hand on her shoulder, and she jumped again.
“Sorry.” He retracted it and took a step back.
“No.” She shook her head, ignoring the throbbing through her wrenched knee. “It’s not you, it’s just . . .”
“Just?”
Pain punctuated his eyes. How could she continue to lie to him?
She needed to tell him the truth. Sit him down and tell him, but with her stalker back, she feared for his life.
It was a no-win situation. Tell Joel and risk his life.
Don’t tell him and let him think she never loved him.
She needed to tell him when they could sit and talk a minute.
Light flickered by the small window behind Joel’s shoulders, and her gaze shot to it.
“What is it?”
“A light.” She pointed at the window half sunken in one of those metal half-circle things.
He glanced back.
Her shoulders drooped. “It’s gone now.”
He shrugged. “Probably someone’s flashlight.”
“Yep.” She shook out her arms. Why was she so jumpy? She was doing exactly what the stalker wanted—letting him terrorize her.
“Let’s see if we can find any firewood, flashlight batteries, kerosene lamps, kerosene . . .” Joel said, moving about the space.
“Right.” She nodded, her thoughts pinging all over the place. “How about I start on the far end and work my way over?”
“Good plan.”
She hobbled for the dark recesses of the cellar, wondering why she’d volunteered for this section. Lovely, Cass.
Joel moved in the opposite direction. “I’m going to check the breaker. The lights may have tripped after being dormant so long.” He shrugged a shoulder. “It doesn’t really make sense, but it’s a nice thought and worth a shot. Everything is worth a shot, right?”
Like they were still worth a shot? She swallowed, praying so.
Joel flipped switches. Click. Click. Click. “Breakers all look okay. Must be the storm. I’m surprised the lights came to life at all.”
“Yeah.” Her gaze tracked over each cubby drawer behind the workbench—screws, nails, washers, and so on—her fingers trailing over the odds and ends left strewn across the countertop—the smooth wood of a hammer, the cold metal of a wrench, and the lightweight plastic of a doohickey.
“Running water and electricity seem odd for a lodge no longer in use.”
“It’s a heart project for Stan,” he said, leaning back against the bench.
He was so handsome, his strong arms resting behind him on the bench, his deep brown eyes fixed on her. She longed for nothing more than to rush over and kiss him, to run her hand through his tousled hair—he’d always loved when she ran her hands through his hair.
“Something caught your attention?” he asked with a smile.
Man, she loved that smile—so full of life.
And that’s how he had to stay. Full of life. Her heart wrested inside her—confliction eating away at her. She shook her head. “Just daydreaming,” she said, telling the truth.
“Gotcha. Well, back to work.”
“Right.” Back to work. Her hand tracked over the next item, and she paused.
A dial? She angled the flashlight back down to what her hand was clasping.
“Hey, it’s a radio.” Hope blossomed inside.
Maybe they’d get help or, at the very least, could know someone had their position and would be on the way as soon as the dangerous elements settled.
“Let’s see.” Joel strode to her side, his strong shoulder brushing hers, but it was his inner strength and fortitude that she admired most. So stalwart in an emergency—always had been, and today was no different.
“I haven’t worked with one of these since I was a kid, but they’re fairly easy. You flip this switch—” He did and nada. He flipped another while she stepped closer. “Probably requires electricity. Some can work on batteries, but—”
“Thank you,” she said, leaning sideways against the bench inches from him, shifting the weight off her hurt knee.
He stopped with the switches, his gaze meeting hers.
The rest of the cellar disappeared.
“For what?” A soft smile, a hopeful smile, curled on his lips.
How could she crush a man she loved so? Because I love him so. She blinked back the tears burning her dry eyes. “For saving my life today.” Hot tears slipped loose, trailing down her cold cheek.
“Hey,” he said. His hand moved to cup her cheek, but he paused and pulled it back to his side. “Of course.”
Her heart dropped. “Joel, I . . .”
He stepped an inch closer. “Yes?”
“I need to tell you something. . . .” She had to. She’d promised herself if she survived the avalanche, she’d tell him. “Look, I should have told you long ago, but—”
Creeeeakkkk.
Her gaze jumped behind Joel’s shoulder at the noise, peering into the darkness.
Evil fled the light. If her stalker was here, if he was one of them, he’d be in the shadows. Her shadow. Hadn’t he said that all along?