Chapter 2
EMMETT
This had been a pretty good day.
I woke up to the sound of rain. That’s always a good thing. Rain is peaceful, isolating. It makes the mountain drip, and the sound is all the company I need. Well, that and Whiskey.
After listening to the rain in bed for a while, enjoying my coffee and a fire, I dealt with that idiot family who insisted on me waiting on them hand and foot.
We need more towels. We’d like coffee brought to our room first thing in the morning.
We need you to take us on a guided hike.
We have children! I’m a mother! Your stupid cat was pawing at our door.
It really shouldn’t be allowed to walk the halls…
Her husband knew better. Every time she bitched and complained, he ducked his eyes or wandered off to look at a tree.
And those screaming, shrieking brats. God, there’s nothing as grating as children who act like wild animals.
Not the kids’ fault; their behavior is a symptom of their mother’s incompetence, but I despise them all the same.
So, after a full day and night of putting up with that woman’s demands and her out-of-control children, I finally snapped.
Really, I tried. This morning, I brought coffee to their room on a tray. A fucking tray. I felt like a goddamn butler. But I had to try.
Every time I feel like growling or snapping at a guest, I think of my son-of-a-bitch brother who left me this place.
I see his effortless smile, hear his jovial, welcoming laugh.
Eric… he had a way of disarming people. Everyone felt at home here because he made them feel that way. He truly wanted them here.
Sometimes, I try to be more like him, in his honor.
Unfortunately, the only person I know how to be is me.
That horrible woman, with her permanent sneer and valley-fry, took one sip of her coffee and spat it back into the cup.
“This is disgusting,” she said. “I asked for espresso.”
Her stupid kids were jumping on the bed, smacking each other with pillows, completely unaware of the eruption about to happen.
I tried to keep my cool. The anger pooled in me like a geyser waiting to burst. “Well, we don’t have espresso here at the Willow Lake Lodge.” We, as if there are any other staff on the grounds. It’s just me. Grumpy old me.
“Honey, it’s really not bad. Very rustic tasting. I bet if we sit by the fire, you’ll enjoy it,” her husband said, smiling over his mug at me like we were communicating in some secret bro-code. Imbecile.
“It’s trash,” she said, thrusting it at me.
It spilled on my shirt.
Not a lot, but enough to set me off.
My brother’s smiling face cracked and shattered. Mr. Coffee Servant of the Willow Lake Lodge evaporated.
After a deep breath, I said, “The only trash here is you.”
I’d pay good money to see that look on her face again. It would be perfectly framed and hung in the lobby above the fireplace. The look of someone who’s gotten away with being a nuisance their entire life, and someone finally tells them no.
“Excuse me?”
“You. Are. Trashy.” I took the cup, gulped down all the coffee she spit into it, and sighed pleasantly. “I’m shocked that any man would reproduce twice with someone as cunty as you. Either he has the patience of a saint, or he’s an idiot.”
Even her kids stopped screaming and jumping on the bed.
They all stared at me, waiting for an apology or for me to burst into laughter and tell them I was joking. Neither thing happened.
Instead, she started screaming. That bloodcurdling shriek of a petulant child. She screamed all the way out of the lodge and back to their car. I couldn’t help but trail them, egging her on, basking in the glory of that bitch throwing a fit.
Those ten minutes are worth one horrible review. At this point, it’s a drop in the bucket.
What I did not realize, though, was that I was being watched.
When I finally noticed the SUV in front of the building, my heart sank. Another fucking guest. In my terrible joy, I’d nearly forgotten that someone was arriving today.
A woman, traveling alone, watching me give a family of four the boot. Not a great start. Plus, I’d been looking forward to finally having peace and quiet around here again.
With all that going on, I couldn’t stop myself from rushing over, intent on scaring her off.
Until she rolled down her rain-covered window, and I saw her face.
I swear, I heard my brother’s voice. She’s the one. The girl who’s finally going to clean you up, brother. Don’t blow it.
Gorgeous is too inadequate a word to describe her. Jet-black hair against moonlight skin. Inquisitive green eyes that seemed to search my soul. Looking at her for the first time was like waking up to a rainy day, warm in bed as I watched water roll down my windows.
And her first impression of me was a screaming match with a mother of two…. I’m screwed.
She walks into the lodge after me, shakes off her umbrella, and shudders.
“Cold out there,” she says. “Toasty in here.”
On rainy days, I always keep a fire going in the lobby. I should tell her that, but I’m too afraid to speak.
What am I supposed to say to the girl of my dreams? Even now, as she strolls around taking in the lodge, I can barely believe that she’s real.
I stand behind the wooden counter like an idiot, gawking at her.
“This place is beautiful,” she says, wandering over. “Love the big fireplace.”
I nod.
She arches an eyebrow at me. “I didn’t catch your name, sir.”
Maybe this is my chance for a fresh start.
She didn’t seem too put off by my gruff nature outside, and she hasn’t said another word about the furious guests that came before her.
Eric always said that, someday, a girl was gonna come along and smile every time I growled.
He was always right about things, even when I didn’t want to admit it.
“Emmett Reins,” I finally say.
She thrusts her hand at me. “Sandy. Sandy Lockeheart.”
I look at that delicate, perfect hand like I might break it if I’m not careful. Sandy is small but full. Even in her raincoat, I can tell there are soft curves hiding from my gaze. Peaks and valleys. A perfect landscape I’ll do anything to explore.
I gently take her hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Reins.”
Mr. Reins. A rough reminder that I’m probably twenty years older than this girl.
Great. I’m an asshole and a creep.
“Welcome to the Willow Lake Lodge,” I say robotically, trying out the words Eric would always say in his sing-song voice. “We hope you have a wonderful escape on our mountain.”
Sandy glances around, still holding my hand. “We?”
The empty lodge sits silently, logs cracking like crickets in the fire.
I shrug. “Just me.”
“You own this place, then? You’re sort of infamous in the reviews.”
“Bunch of pricks bitching on Yelp because they’re too afraid to say it to my face,” I growl. “Give that lady credit. At least she voiced her complaints in person.”
Sandy smiles, eyebrows lifted.
I take a deep breath. “I mean… the customer is always right?”
“Was that a question?”
Something passes between us. Understanding? A little smile at a secret we share? Whatever it is, I feel more at ease.
I look down at our hands, still bobbing together like they’ll never stop.
We both decide to let go at the same time, clearing our throats and averting our eyes.
“I’ll… uh… show you to your room.”
“Oh, yes. That would be lovely. Long drive...”
I grab her two suitcases and gesture for her to follow me. Heading up the central stairs and down the north wing, I walk rigidly and upright.
Sandy stays on my heels, chatting the whole way.
“Does my room have a fireplace?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I’d love a fire.”
“I stocked it with wood.”
“And a bathtub? I’d love a bath.”
“There is a bathtub.”
“Does it have a window facing the lake? I’d love to watch the rain fall over the lake.”
“You have the best view in the lodge.” I smile to myself. “And there aren’t any other guests. If you don’t like the view, pick another room. Makes no difference to me.”
“The whole place to myself? How exciting!” She pauses. “You’re not an ax murderer, are you?”
“Not yet…”
She laughs… thank God. My humor does not sit well with most people. Maybe it’s my delivery. I don’t really smile when I tell jokes… or laugh.
“Here we are.”
The old lock takes some convincing, but I finally get the door open.
Sandy follows me into the lodge’s biggest room on the second floor.
This one has it all. A huge stone fireplace, a tall shelf stuffed with books, a great window overlooking the water, a deep standing bathtub, and a bed big enough to fit us both and have room to roll around…
I eye the bed, then her, before setting her bags down.
Sandy shakes off her coat and hangs it on the hook by the door, then kicks off her boots. “Wow!” The girl struts around the room, obsessing over everything, and finally lands at the window. “Look at that view.”
Honestly, you can’t see much through the rain. But I like it. The trees dance in the wind, and droplets sink down the glass like tears. Eric always said I’m depressing because I love rain so much. Whatever. In a room like this, there’s nothing better than a rainy night by the fire.
“I hope you like the room,” I say earnestly. “Sorry about the weather. We get these big, lingering storms often. I can’t control it, even if some of those reviewers want to blame me for some fucking rain...”
“Are you kidding?” She turns to face me, smiling brightly. “I love rain. I’m gonna be sitting by the fire with a book in my hands all night!”
I think I just fell in love.
She staggers me, and I grab the dresser to keep myself upright.
“Um. Are you OK?” She shuffles toward me, arms out. “Do you need to sit down?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” I wave her off. “Just… checking the dresser’s structural integrity.”
I give the old wooden dresser a hard shake. One of the drawers falls out and hits the floor.
“Sorry.” I bend down and muscle it back onto the tracks. “I built or refurbished most of the furniture in the lodge, so some of it is pretty shoddy.”
“You built that?”