The cab pulled up to the front of the resort, and all those qualms about coming here became storms. I really wasn’t sure about this. About being here.
I didn’t know where else to go.
I had no one. Unless you counted the cops who put me into witness protection.
*snort*
Those dudes definitely didn’t count.
When I’d been huddled in the back of that cab with my getaway bag clutched in my lap and the cabbie kept staring at me, asking me where to go, the only place that came to mind was here.
Of all places.
I swore I’d never come back, yet here I was.
Honest fact was with the bad I had experienced here, there had also been so much good.
Only once in my entire life had I spent a vacation with my father. Only once had I had his undivided attention for two whole weeks. This was the place we’d spent what he told me was the best time of his life.
The photo I’d picked up from beside his murdered body was of him and me standing on the slopes.
Maybe that was why. Why when I shut my eyes and tried to imagine somewhere my father’s killers couldn’t get to me, it was the very place I’d been happy with him.
No one knew I’d spent two weeks here eight years ago. Caribou was a small mountain town, only on the map because of BearPaw Resort. The men from Chicago wouldn’t think to look here.
I’d be safe.
That’s all I really wanted.
As the cab drove away and I craned my neck to stare up at the giant wooden building lit up from within, my stomach dipped and my heart squeezed. There was something else I wanted.
To not see him.
Lucky for me, in this the odds were in my favor.
He’d left this place a long time ago. Before I did, actually. I knew he wasn’t here. I was glad. Seeing him would only bring up pain and drag up things I’d long since buried.
Hadn’t I?
I had enough to deal with anyway. Like hiding from the men trying to kill me.
That little reminder had me walking under the giant wooden awning where cars could pull in for the valet service and people could unload their bags.
Ducking inside the wide wooden doors, I walked through a small entryway with a thick rug on the floor and heat blasting through vents in the ceiling. I hadn’t even realized how cold I was until that heat caressed my skin.
Shivering, I approached the set of glass doors that opened into the reception area of the main building. The idea of the little entry I walked through was pretty clever really. Most likely thought of by a woman who was tired of cleaning.
The thick carpet and the extra space… It was for people to track in all the mud and snow they would, and it would all be gone by the time they reached the lobby.
The place looked the same, even eight years later. Pushing into the giant space with soaring ceilings, wooden beams, and a stone fireplace I could literally stand up in, I remembered just how much I’d loved it here.
It was a shame that one event had tainted it.
Shaking off that thought, I wandered inside, taking in the comfortable seating that was grouped together to create various intimate gathering places. Near the large front desk, there was a table filled with cookies, hot cocoa, and coffee. People milled about, laughing and smiling. Some carried bags; others carried ski equipment. There was a couple close to the fire, drinking wine, wearing sweaters they probably got off QVC.
I was so apprehensive I avoided the front desk at first. Instead, I went to the fireplace. Admiring the large-cut stone in shades of grey and tan, I held my frozen hands out toward the open mouth. Heat wrapped around them, and I shivered again.
A giant chandelier hung in the center of the space. It was rustic and, despite its size, felt cozy, not grandiose. The fireplace was double-sided, and past it, the room stretched on toward a huge wall of windows that gazed out over a terrain of snow, white-blanketed trees, and a landscape that frankly belonged on a postcard.
Noise from the bar that was located off the lodge filtered in. Music and laughter warred with the quieter tones out here.
I thought longingly of a glass of wine and of the bottle I never got to enjoy. Perhaps after I got a room, I could have some sent up. I had to watch my spending, only having what I’d stowed away in my bag, but I deserved some wine.
Hell, I needed it.
Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I glanced over at the registration desk. A man in a dress shirt and tie stood behind the counter. He glanced up and smiled. I looked away.
I didn’t even know how much the rooms cost. They could be crazy expensive. I hadn’t paid the last time I was here. Oh, to be sixteen again. To not have to worry about bills or responsibility.
You know even at sixteen nothing is perfect. Far from it.
I’d come all this way. I could at least spend the night. If the prices were too high, I could come up with a plan in the morning. I was tired. Hungry. Afraid.
Rubbing my palms down the front of my sweats (yes, Lord help me, I was still wearing these oversized lounge clothes), I padded over to the desk, cautious.
“Hi. Welcome to BearPaw Lodge. Do you have a reservation?” the man said, a friendly smile on his face.
“Hi.” I began as my hands started to shake. “I’m afraid I don’t have a reservation. Do you have anything available?”
“Hmm.” He turned thoughtful. “Let me check, and I’ll be right with you.”
He turned his attention to the computer in front of him, the sound of his fingers flying over the keys sort of relaxing.
“I do have a room. It has a double bed. Would that be okay?”
“I’ll take it,” I said, nearly crumpling to the floor in relief.
“Okay, for that room plus the breakfast buffet and a voucher for one free drink at the bar every night after five p.m., the total is…” He paused, his fingers doing something else. “Two twenty per night.”
My breath caught. Two hundred and twenty dollars a night! I couldn’t afford that.
My shoulders sagged.
The man frowned, seemingly reading the defeated expression on my face. He cleared his throat, hitting a few more keys. “I can take off the buffet, the drink voucher, and move you to a room without a view. Then the total will be one fifty-nine per night.”
Worrying my lower lip, I nodded. “Could I reserve that please?”
“Of course.” He beamed. “How many nights?”
“Um, I’m not sure,” I mumbled. “Just one.”
“Name?”
“Bella Lane,” I replied on autopilot.
Tomorrow, I could go back into town and look for a motel of some kind. Something much less expensive.
After a few more moments, he smiled. “All right, Ms. Lane, I just need to see a valid ID and a credit card for the reservation.”
I blanched.
I didn’t have either of those things. I’d run out of my house without my purse. No ID, no cell phone, no wallet… all I had was an envelope of cash and some clothes.
I mean, for heaven’s sake, the shoes on my feet were stolen!
“Of course,” I said and smiled. Plopping the bag down near my feet, I bent and pretended to rifle through it. “I have those things right—”
I popped up. “Oh no!”
The man’s eyes widened.
“Is something wrong?”
“I left my wallet in the cab!”
He made a sound. “Do you know which cab company you used? I will be happy to call them and have it brought back.”
“It was a yellow one,” I said, knowing just how idiotic I sounded.
This time he blanched. “They’re all yellow here, miss.”
Tears rushed to my eyes. I didn’t even have to pretend. They were genuine and real. There was no way I was going to get a room at this place with no ID and no credit.
Almost eighteen hours on a bus, and now I couldn’t even stay.
“Oh now,” the man fretted. Clearly, tears made him uncomfortable.
I sniffled, trying to hold back a full-on melt down.
“It’s just been a horrible day,” I told him, a whimper in my voice. “I’ve come such a long way.”
He fished under the counter and plopped a tissue box down in front of me.
“I’m so sorry to have wasted your time. I’ll go.”
“Wait!” he said when I turned away.
I swiped at my cheeks and glanced back.
“Where will you go?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “Would it be okay if I sat down for a few minutes to think?” I gestured to one of the cozy chairs near the fire.
“Of course,” he said. “You just want the room for one night?”
I nodded. “I have cash. I could pay.”
“Let me just run it by my manager. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
A speck of hope ignited inside me. Not enough to make me feel better, but enough to make the tears stop.
I knew I wouldn’t get the room here tonight, but at least I could sit down and figure out my next move. Maybe if I was lucky, he would forget about me, and I could spend the night in the chair by the fire.
I stole a glance over at the tray of cookies and hot coca. My stomach rumbled. It felt dishonest to partake of the treats. Instead, I went back to the fire and warmed my hands some more.
After a few minutes, I was toasty warm and so tired my eyes were watering from the amount of yawning I was doing. The nearby chair looked comfortable and welcoming. I sank into it, tucking my bag of possessions in with me.
A quick glance to the desk told me the man was still off doing whatever he was doing.
I hope he’s not calling the police.
The thought was random, almost sarcastic. But oh, it struck me wide awake. Jolting up, my back and shoulders went taut. I looked around as if the police were already here and coming straight for me.
I hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but if they were called about a woman with no ID, dressed like a bum, trying to get a room at some fancy resort, they would surely run my name.
They’d send me back.
Back where I’d be a sitting duck.
Back to be murdered.
Visions of my father being shot to death in front of me assaulted my thoughts. I leapt out of the chair and saw the man still wasn’t back.
If I ran now, I could still get away.
Scooping up my bag, I rushed around the back of the chair, away from the front desk. I’d take this way around, maybe keep to the wall so if he came back, he wouldn’t see me.
In my haste, I didn’t watch where I was going. I collided with a large, solid form and bounced back.
Right before I crumpled to the floor, strong hands grabbed me around the arms and hauled me upright.
“Whoa,” he said.
Every hair on my body stood up. My heart caved in.
Even after eight years, I’d know that voice anywhere.
I gasped at the same time I looked up.
Gray eyes collided with mine.
The hands around my arms tightened, and shock filled his expression. “Bellamy?”
Oh my God. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Oh my God.
It was him.