9. Aspen
ASPEN
After I shower and change, I take a moment to unpack my meagre belongings into the dresser. The job barely takes me five minutes. I push away the knotted discomfort inside me that these few possessions are all I have to show for my life.
My stomach growls in hunger. It’s been hours since I ate at the coffee shop.
I feel guilty for sponging food off Blake, as well as a place to live, and I make a vow that I’ll pick up that paintbrush as soon as possible.
I want to pay my way, even if it’s only in kind.
With a twinge of embarrassment, I remember the conversation we’d had, and how I’d sensed the intonation of his words at the phrase.
I leave the room again, realizing Blake never gave me a key to the door. It’s too old-fashioned to lock automatically, so I don’t need to worry about not being able to get back in, but it still feels weird leaving all my stuff.
Will he think I don’t trust him or his son if I ask him for the key? It’s not as though I can trust his son—I’ve never even met the guy, and some of the stuff Blake has already told me has sent all my self-protective senses into overdrive.
I follow the corridor and staircase back to the first floor.
In the grand entrance hall, one side is still clearly being worked on, while the other is relatively free of plastic sheeting.
I take the door leading off this part and find myself in another, shorter hallway with several doors leading off it.
Because I have no idea which one hides the kitchen, I have to check each one as I go.
The first door opens on to a huge dining hall.
A long, mahogany dining table runs down the center of the room, complete with a candelabra.
Making up a good chunk of the wall opposite is a massive, gray stone fireplace.
French doors, which I assume lead out onto one of the verandas, are positioned on the farthest wall.
I can’t picture Blake and his son eating in here. Perhaps he saves this space for when they have guests.
The next door leads to an opulent drawing room. There’s no television in here, or any sign of modern technology. Instead, rows of bookshelves take up the crevasses on either side of the fireplace.
Staring at the rows upon rows of books, my heart hammers against my ribs and acid rises up my throat. It’s as though those books contain a million secret lives that will never be accessible to me.
Tearing my gaze away, I keep moving.
To my relief, the room at the end of the hallway is the kitchen. This space looks more modern, though it still has the high ceilings and tall windows I’ve seen in the rest of the building. I suspect a stud wall has been put up somewhere to make it a more livable size.
Blake is standing at the sink, a mug of something hot in one hand, as he stares out across the scenery displayed in the window beyond.
He hasn’t noticed me entering, and I take a moment to admire him.
He’s no longer wearing the black suit pants and shirt he attended the funeral in, and is in a form-fitting gray t-shirt and a pair of soft, faded blue jeans that hug his ass instead.
“It’s rude to stare.”
A male voice comes from behind me, and I jump, my cheeks heating at being caught admiring my father’s best friend’s ass.
Blake turns at the same time as I spin on my toes to face the person behind me.
“Aspen,” Blake says from behind me, “I want you to meet Levi.”
The man standing in the doorway takes my breath away.
He’s in his early twenties, with piercing blue eyes and dark hair.
His cheekbones could cut glass. Blake is an extremely attractive man, so it wasn’t as though I’d been expecting his son to be ugly, but even so… this guy could be on a magazine cover.
Blake continues, “Levi, this is James’s daughter. You remember me telling you about James? I went to his funeral today.”
Levi ignores his father and eyes me instead. “You should know I don’t think you should be here.”
His lack of warmth strikes me in the chest. Blake warned me he would be like this, but it’s still not easy to take. What a shame someone so beautiful has such a shitty attitude.
Levi looks past me and addresses his father. “How long is she staying?”
“As long as she wants. She doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Be nice, Levi.”
Levi shakes his head. “You can’t just go around picking up random girls.”
Something about his tone, and what he’s said, reminds me of Tobias.
“She’s not random,” Blake insists. “I’ve known her since she was small.”
For some reason, I don’t like Blake thinking about me when I was a child. I want him to think of me how I am now, not how I was back then.
“Sit down, both of you,” Blake says. “I’m making something to eat.”
There’s a normal sized farmhouse kitchen table, and I choose the chair closest to me.
Levi picks one at the farthest possible point away from me.
He stares at me, confrontational. I shift uncomfortably.
I wonder if they have their regular seats around the table and I’ve just inadvertently chosen his.
“Coffee? Soda?” Blake offers. “What would you prefer?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine,” I reply. “I don’t want you to go to any extra effort for me.”
Levi gives a strange, sly smile. “I’m sure he’ll put plenty of effort in for you, Aspen.”
Blake hands me a soda and a glass, then produces a couple of what look like homemade pizzas from the oven. He slices them up then sets them on the table in front of us.
I give him a grateful smile, my mouth watering. “These look great. I didn’t know you could cook.”
“I’m good at pretty much anything that involves me using my hands,” Blake replies.
Levi snorts and hides his mouth and nose behind his knuckles.
Asshole.
Blake takes a seat and helps himself to pizza.
“Aspen is an artist,” he tells Levi, as though trying to drum up conversation.
Stupidly, it feels like Blake has set me and his son up, and he’s only just now realizing it might all be a terrible mistake, so he’s doing his best to make things comfortable. I feel for him. He brought me here as a favor, and now he’s in a bad position with his son.
Levi narrows his blue eyes a fraction, the thick, black lashes framing them. “Is that right? What kind of artist?”
“Pencil, mainly. But I’ll draw with anything. What do you like to do?” I’m trying my hardest to break the ice with him.
“Hunt,” he replies. “I’ll chase anything that runs.”
I swallow hard. “Oh.”
“And I like to fish and hike. If it involves the outdoors and nature, I’m happy.”
“Maybe you could show me some decent trails sometime,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.
His gaze flicks up and down my body—or at least the part that’s visible above the table—and I resist the urge to wrap my arms across my chest.
“You have to be careful on the mountain. It’s easy to get lost. If you get lost, no one will find you.”
Why does it feel like there’s a weird undercurrent of a threat to his words?
I remember Blake’s warning to me not to pay too much attention to Levi. It’s kind of weird, though, knowing I’m going to be under the same roof as him, when he doesn’t seem to want to make any effort with me.
I pick up a slice of pizza, blow on it, and take a bite. I’m starving, and the pizza is delicious. I eat quickly, doing my best to ignore the stares of the two men from the other side of the table. One is concerned, and the other aggressive.
Have I made a mistake by coming here?
I finish my plate and take it to the sink. “I’m going to make it an early night,” I tell them. “It’s been a long day.”
Blake rises to standing. “Let me walk you to the bottom of the stairs, at least.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.”
“You’re not. I’m done.”
I’m quite sure I can find my way back to the stairs, but I get the feeling he has something he wants to say, and he doesn’t want Levi to hear.
I nod my assent. “Sure.”
He remembers something. “Oh, and you wanted a glass so you can have water beside your bed.”
I’m grateful he remembered. I get thirsty at night and would prefer not to have to stick my whole head under the faucet.
“That’s right, thanks.”
He grabs me a tumbler and hands it to me. I don’t bother to fill it up down here. I have a sink in my bathroom, and it’s still a decently long walk between the kitchen and my room.
Levi eyes us both curiously but doesn’t comment on us leaving at the same time. Perhaps he buys that I need guidance to find my way back.
Blake leads the way and comes to a halt when we reach the bottom of the stairs. Sure enough, he does want to talk to me, though not about the topic I’d assumed—his son.
Instead, he nods toward the other side of the entrance hall.
“The east wing is out of bounds.” He fixes me with his serious gaze, the gold ring around his irises darkening to amber. “I mean it, Aspen. You can’t even look around. It’s structurally unsound, and a ceiling or wall could come down and you could be crushed.”
“Okay, I understand.”
“You promise you won’t go in there? At all. Not for any reason.”
“I promise I won’t go in there,” I parrot back.
His shoulders relax, but now I’m curious. “What are you going to do with it, if it’s too dangerous to even enter? Are you going to have to pull it down?”
He scrubs at his jaw. “Possibly, though I don’t want to. I’d prefer to restore it, but that might not be a viable option. I figured I’d get the rest of the hotel up to scratch first and worry about the east wing last.”
“Makes sense. It sounds like it would be an expensive job.”
I shift uncomfortably. His finances are none of my business. I have no idea where Blake got his money or what he did for a living before he came here. He mentioned having people stay here, but I can’t imagine the occasional hiker or skier passing through would be enough to pay the bills.
I change the subject. “How old is this place, anyway?”
“It was built in the nineteen-twenties, so a hundred years old now. It was an old mining homestead originally.”
“Is it haunted?” I blurt, immediately feeling silly.