Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Winterbourne Lodge
The roar of the engine muffled her thoughts as Deanna crossed her arms and gave up on conversation as a bad joke.
If Cal wanted deathly silence, he could have it.
Why had she flown halfway around the world only to end up alone?
Or almost alone. A man who didn’t even want to talk about the weather didn’t count as company.
She watched scattered snowflakes floating and falling on nearby trees as they pulled up in Cal’s truck out front of Winterbourne Lodge.
The circular drive had been shovelled clear of snow, but a fresh fall covered the ground.
From her passenger side window, Deanna took in the sight of the lodge, which was as picture-postcard perfect as she remembered from her childhood visit, only much smaller.
The main lodge was only two stories high, the size of many suburban houses back in Australia.
The wooden building with stone and glass frontage was elegant though, in an old-fashioned way.
It reminded her of a classic dollhouse. She knew there were ten separate cabins too, but she could only spy one from her position out front.
Deanna shot a sideways look at Cal to find him scowling through the windshield, his hands still gripping the steering wheel though he’d turned off the engine.
She asked what had been on her mind. “I forgot to ask why you decided to close the lodge over Christmas. Isn’t this a busy time for guests? Or do you have family coming?”
Cal turned and met her eyes. “No family. I knew a storm was coming and I didn’t want to be responsible for keeping guests safe.” He stared her down as if daring her to comment, his eyes glittering under broody eyebrows.
Right. He was obviously annoyed that she’d managed to invite herself to stay even though the lodge was officially closed.
As for keeping her safe, that wouldn’t be difficult.
All she needed were some blankets and copious amounts of alcohol.
The provisions should probably include some food or things would get messy, quickly.
Deanna shrugged and attempted to lighten the mood.
“I’m sorry to inconvenience you. I wanted to get away and I remembered this place.
My mum brought me here one Christmas when I was eleven.
I thought it was magical. All the snow and pine trees, the big roaring fire.
It was like something out of a fairytale to me. ”
Cal nodded, but he seemed lost in thought. “Your mother called you Dee.”
She blinked in surprise, while in her mind, she heard the echo of her mother calling her Dee, or sometimes Little Deena. “Did you know her? My mother, Maddy, I mean.”
“A little. I guess you don’t remember me.” His hands had dropped to his lap, and his grip on his knee looked tense. “You were eleven and I was thirteen. My mother, Priya, used to call me by my full name. Callahan.”
Ohhhhhh. He was Priya’s son. Her mother’s best friend from her modelling days had been a glamorous, laughing presence and a frequent visitor when they all lived in London.
But Priya lived in Manhattan now. Deanna was planning to visit her at some stage.
And Callahan was her quiet, serious son, who had been tall for his age at thirteen.
Deanna had only met him a few times. He went to some fancy boarding school in Scotland during term.
When she’d read the name, Mr Winterbourne, on the booking confirmation, she’d been expecting to meet Cal’s father, Jonathan, who would be in his seventies.
She’d heard that he and Priya had divorced a long time ago.
Deanna couldn’t remember much about him except he’d been a huge man with a bushy ginger beard, and a deep voice like thunder.
She turned towards Cal now, to study his face. He was anxious, of that she was certain, and maybe he didn’t talk much as a general rule.
Of course. Mr Winterbourne must have passed away and that’s probably why Cal was now the manager of the lodge.
A pang of sympathy shot through her. She was sorry for Cal’s loss.
Even if Deanna hadn’t really known Cal’s father, she remembered him being kind.
And she understood the vacuum a death like that could leave behind.
Deanna paused, examining Cal’s face as all sorts of things came back to her in a rush.
“I do remember now. We played Scrabble together by the fire. I beat you, even though I was younger than you by two whole years.” She grinned at him, watching as the corner of his mouth crept upwards by an infinitesimal amount.
His version of a beaming smile, probably.
“One day we went for a nature walk out near the lake and I saw a bald eagle flying overhead. I thought it was amazing and I wanted to take photos. You said there were bears in the woods and I should run as fast as I could back to the lodge, and maybe I’d survive.
I ran so fast my legs ached the next day. ”
A deep, rumbly sound had her sitting up straight in her seat. He was laughing. A strange noise, a little broken. Like something he didn’t do often.
A moment later, Cal sighed. His expression was softer now, making him more handsome. “I didn’t recognise you at first either. You were the girl who liked to dance in the snow.”
The memory of New Year’s Eve, dancing outside with a sparkler in her hand, leapt to the front of her mind. She and Cal had toasted marshmallows over the fire, too.
He gestured through the windshield towards the front of the lodge. “And now you’re a part owner of this place, I suppose.”
Deanna pressed her lips together and nodded silently. Yes, her mother had left her share of the lodge to Deanna in her will, along with a generous life insurance payout, the flat in London and other things she didn’t know what to do with. It was too much to deal with right now.
Maddy Michaelson had been beautiful, a well-known model and later a fashion photographer. She’d had such a large, sparkling presence in life, and now that she was gone, Deanna felt adrift. For some reason, after the will reading in London, the lodge had seemed like a safe haven, even in a storm.
Cal nodded back at her once, decisively. “Come inside. I think we could both use a drink.”
After lugging her suitcases out to a cabin a short walk away, Cal urged Deanna to follow him inside the main lodge.
“Welcome to Winterbourne Lodge, Miss Michaelson. Or should I say, welcome back.”
Deanna stopped just inside the large wooden door in the foyer. She took off her coat, stuffing her gloves and hat in the pockets, glad to be rid of some of the layers of padding that made her feel like a polar bear.
She hung her coat on the wall hooks inside the entrance and then watched Cal remove his heavy coat and gloves.
His back was turned, giving her the opportunity to ogle him properly.
Such broad shoulders. How did he get shoulders like that?
Did he chop wood all day? Or wrestle bears, for real?
It was a mystery, but she’d like to unravel it.
When Cal faced her again, she was pretty sure he caught her checking him out. Her eyeballs had been frankly, quite busy with a thorough perusal of his nicely rounded butt.
Now he raised one eyebrow in a question, as if to ask: Can I help you, ma’am?
Deanna was too embarrassed to list the things she’d like him to help her with, even in her head.
There were many. A heated ache spread deep in her belly, the kind it was difficult to deny.
Suffice to say, it had been a while since she’d had anyone ogle-able in her near vicinity. Let alone touchable.
She couldn’t help but notice Cal’s finer points.
His chest was nicely defined in a soft-looking, emerald green cashmere sweater.
He looked touchable. Deanna’s face heated as she imagined peeling that sweater off him, maybe by the fire.
Pressing herself against him. He’d be hard where she was soft, demanding while she’d be agreeable.
She didn’t mind being bossed around in certain circumstances.
He was so delightfully grumpy, she wanted to surprise another laugh out of him. Deanna suspected he might soften when she got him going with some well-placed kisses. Maybe she'd take a love bite out of the meaty part of one of his shoulders.
Then her stomach rumbled, on cue. Possibly she was just hungry, not turning into a ravenous werewolf girl. She placed a hand on her stomach over her cardigan and then glanced up to meet Cal’s amused expression.
Really, they were micro-expressions, flashes of insight that allowed her to see through his serious mask. She was learning to read his tells.
“Hungry?”
Deanna laughed, a high-pitched sound that rang out in the quiet room. “Oh my god, how could you tell?” She grinned up at him, until a muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Right. Come and sit down near the fire and I’ll get us some sandwiches or something. Staff’s off for Christmas, I’m afraid.”
That confirmed her earlier concern. They were all alone, together, at the lodge. No-one around for miles, probably. If you wanted some peace and quiet it was perfect. But in an emergency, it could be a problem.
Cal left through a door to a hidden area leading to the kitchen, she guessed.
Deanna crossed to the middle of the large space, as the lodge’s open plan layout had a communal lounge area downstairs for guests, right near the feature, oversized fireplace.
It was roaring now, orange flames dominating the entire room.
She glanced around, matching the place she remembered from childhood with the actual room in the present.
The ceiling was double height, and thick wooden beams soared overhead, reminding her of old churches she’d visited in Italy.
Everything was warm, wood-clad and rustic, in a way that wasn’t kitschy but made her feel at home.
Whoever had decorated had used more modern soft furnishings in reds and oranges. Deanna approved.