Chapter 2 #2
He takes my hands and squeezes them and his welcoming smile is so warm and happy that I can’t help smiling back, even though my mind is reeling.
I’ve heard so much about you…
I had no idea Mr. Lockwood would mention me to anyone at all. Let alone tell anyone so much about me.
And when he said that his grandfather worked at the lodge, I expected he owned it or was managing it. But it looks like he’s… a doorman?
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Lockwood,” I manage.
“Just Michael, my dear,” he tells me. “I’m truly sorry you two are stuck in the honeymoon cabin. Though you’re young, so I’m sure you won’t mind sharing a snug little space.”
He winks at me while I stare silently back at him, and Mr. Lockwood clears his throat loudly.
“We’ll be fine,” my always eloquent boss chokes out.
“This place has become very popular ever since Mr. Stone bought it last year,” Michael says. “It’s mainly due to his new wife.”
He glances to the corner, where a young woman with cute freckles and a baby bump is tapping intently away on her laptop. She doesn’t seem to notice us.
I feel a tiny twinge of jealousy and rip my eyes away from the girl and her belly.
“Who is this?” a dramatic male voice asks.
I turn to see a tall thin man in a chef’s hat sweeping into the lounge to greet us.
“Bronson,” Michael says fondly. “This is my grandson, Derek, and his sweetheart, Darcy Keller.”
Sweetheart?
I don’t dare glance up at my boss’s handsome face—in part because I’m blushing so hard he’ll probably think something’s wrong with me.
But also because I’m afraid of the horrified expression he’s surely wearing, an expression that will hurt my feelings, even though I’ve got no excuse to kid myself about him.
Derek Lockwood would never, ever fall in love with me.
First of all, I can’t imagine him falling in love with anyone. But also, I know he could land an actress or a supermodel, or a member of the UN who looks like an actress or a supermodel, or… well, you get the idea.
Plus there’s nothing he cares about more than his work, and I’m off-limits for him if he doesn’t want to violate every corporate policy in the book.
So there’s no point even letting myself pretend I’m his girlfriend.
“Will there be wedding bells soon?” Bronson asks, not noticing that I’m currently trying to blend into the rug. “You know I can do a beautiful tiered cake. We had a wedding here not so long ago. The owner can give a reference. Keep it in mind.”
“Nothing would make me happier, old friend,” Michael says to Bronson.
I try looking away from them, but a whole bunch of faces are looking right back at me.
Everyone, literally everyone in this lobby is staring at us now.
I imagine what the two of us must look like—a GQ model and his disheveled niece. Or a movie star and his country cousin, maybe?
Why didn’t I keep my nice work clothes on at least? I’ll never be half as attractive as Derek Lockwood, but at least I’d look put-together.
“We wouldn’t want to spoil a surprise,” Mr. Lockwood growls from beside me so suddenly that I almost jump out of my boots.
“Oh, I see,” Michael says, buttoning his lips and looking delighted.
“A surprise,” Bronson echoes with a smug smile. “How lovely.”
But I’m already so shocked at this whole conversation that I don’t think he could surprise me more if he grew another head.
What in the world is happening?
“Let’s get some food in you,” Michael says, placing my hand on his arm like the dashing hero in a black and white movie and leading me toward the doorway to what looks like an elegant dining hall.
“The heat’s not working in the cabin,” Mr. Lockwood says, like he’s just finally remembered why we came here.
Besides to fill his sweet grandfather’s head with bald-faced lies, a little voice whispers unhelpfully in the back of my head.
“Is this your grandson, Michael?” the lady behind the desk pops out to ask.
She’s eyeing Mr. Lockwood like he’s a tall drink of water and she’s just gotten done a jog through the desert, and I suddenly want to shove her out of the way and make him look at me again, which makes literally zero sense.
But as always when women try to cozy up to him, he doesn’t even give her the time of day.
“Come say hello in the dining room, Margo,” Michael tells her. “It’s freezing in the cabin without heat, so I want to get some food in these two lovebirds.”
Lovebirds?
I’m starting to entertain the idea that I may have actually lost my mind.
As we pass the desk and head into a big room with gorgeous wooden tables and another crackling fireplace, Margo calls out for someone to bring firewood down to the cabin.
Michael takes us to the table nearest the fire. The heat is absolutely delicious—it’s all I can do not to groan with pleasure as Mr. Lockwood pulls out my chair before moving around the table to sit.
“Here you are,” Bronson says, handing us each a leather-bound menu. “But of course I can make you anything you like.”
My menu opens on its own and my eyes catch on an entry for heavenly chicken pot pie.
“Oh,” I murmur. “Chicken pot pie.”
“Very good,” Bronson says with a smile. “And for you, sir?”
Mr. Lockwood orders what he always orders—a ribeye with vegetables and a salad.
I guess he’ll live forever on protein and veggies, but that won’t stop me from eating carbs. I think they’re some of the best things in life.
Bronson heads off just as Margo comes in with two mugs of hot chocolate absolutely drowning in tiny marshmallows.
“Here you are,” she says with a special smile for Mr. Lockwood that he doesn’t notice at all because he’s so busy scowling at the marshmallows. “I thought you could use a little warming up.”
She’s looking at him like she can think of other ways to warm him up and my inner green-eyed monster is scrapping for a fight again.
“Thanks,” he grunts without looking at her, then turns to his grandfather. “We should talk. I have some ideas.”
“After you eat,” Michael says with a sad smile, patting his arm.
I feel a pang of grief for my boss. He lost his wife, and his parents don’t seem to be in touch often—from what I understand they travel a lot, and his daughter is away at school.
It’s probably been particularly cruel for him to find out his grandfather isn’t well.
And between the way Michael’s suit fits and how worn out he seems just from greeting us, I’m guessing he hasn’t taken a miraculous turn for the better.
“Would you two like some privacy, M—Derek?” I correct myself at the last moment. He might be all business, but something tells me his sweetheart isn’t supposed to refer to him as Mr. Lockwood.
His eyes flicker with interest, and I wonder if it’s because this is the first time I’ve called him by his first name.
“Of course not, my dear,” Michael tells me right away, patting my hand from his place beside me. “I’m so glad you’re here with us. What a wonderful treat.”
Half an hour later I’m absolutely gorged on the most delicious chicken pot pie I’ve ever eaten.
Mr. Lockwood—Derek also pushed his mug of hot chocolate toward me when I finished mine. My delight must have shown on my face because I swear the corner of his mouth tugged up for a second in his version of a chuckle.
Now we’re all relaxing with mugs of spiced apple cider, and I’m looking forward to getting back to the cabin to sleep like a hibernating bear when my boss leans forward in his chair.
“Grandpa,” he says, his voice flat and businesslike again.
“If you two aren’t here to tell me you’re engaged then I know why you’re here,” Michael says, sounding tired.
“How could you possibly know?” Derek asks.
“I haven’t seen you in person in five years,” Michael says softly.
I almost gasp out loud. The city is a bit of a hike, but five years? The two of them obviously have a good relationship. If my grandfather were still alive nothing could keep me away from him for that long.
“Look,” Derek says, not bothering to argue. “I heard back from Dr. Nasar. He’s willing to do your surgery, and he’ll be in New York next week.”
“My case isn’t interesting enough for Mahmut Nasar,” Michael chuckles.
“My money is,” Derek says drily, pulling out his phone. “Now, I’ve got a few apartments for you to look at. You’ll want to recover close to the clinic—”
“I’m going to save you some time,” Michael says, cutting him off. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone do that. “And I guess some money, too. I’m not interested.”
“You don’t understand,” Derek says. “This surgery can double your survival rate…”
“From basically nothing to almost nothing,” Michael says quietly. “And all I have to do is become a human pincushion. No thanks. I’ve lived my life. I’m ready to go out on my own terms.”
My boss is as still as a statue, but I can feel the hurt that’s radiating through him.
“Besides, I miss your grandmother,” Michael says with a gentle smile. “It’s time.”
My chest aches, and I’m trying so hard not to cry, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to manage that.
Derek of all people should understand. I know he misses his wife too.
“But I’m really glad you’re here to spend a little time with me,” Michael says, brightening up. “How long can you stay?”
I practically cringe at the answer. Surely we can stay a little longer than Sunday night?
“We’re here for the weekend,” Derek says.
“Let’s make the most of it then,” Michael says with sparkling eyes. “Bronson, let’s get those dessert menus.”
“Oh, we don’t need—” my boss begins.
But this time I cut him off—something I wouldn’t have dreamed of just five minutes ago, but his grandfather must be rubbing off on me.
“That sounds great,” I tell Michael.
“She’s a girl after my own heart,” he declares, winking at me. “Now I’ve got to warn you two, I do have to work tomorrow. But maybe I’ll knock off early if Margo can spare me.”
“Grandpa, you don’t have to work,” Derek puts in. “You haven’t had to for a long time. Come to the city with me, and let me spoil you after all the years you’ve put in. My staff would wait on you hand and foot.”
He’s not wrong. Derek Lockwood has enough money for people to attend to his family’s needs even if they all lived to be two hundred.
“This is my home,” Michael says simply.
There’s something about the way his voice rings when he says it that makes me know that he’s right. And as I look around at the crackling fire and the glow of the moonlight on the snowy trees out the window, I wonder if there’s anyone in the world who wouldn’t want this place to be their home.
I’m glad we’re getting some dessert—even more than usual. It will give us more time to spend with this sweet man.
And it will also give me more time before I have to go back to the honeymoon cabin with my boss.