Chapter 9
We decided to take the scenic route to the cabin, which added another twenty minutes to our journey.
Dolly and Hunter loved the ride. According to Dean they really dislike being cooped up in the stables, so it was nice giving them that freedom. Apparently, there are more renters around now, so they can’t let them run wild in the fields.
We’ve just finished our ten-minute hike after getting the horses settled in for the night at the stables.
The cabin doesn’t look like much from the outside. Two rocking chairs creak back and forth as we step onto the wooden front porch and I can’t help but admire their antique beauty.
Walking inside, I gasp in surprise. The whole bottom floor is one room. The kitchen is in the far-left corner, with an L-shaped breakfast bar separating it from the other areas of the room. There are a couple of old brown sofas that have seen better days to my right, but their cushions look plump and soft.
There’s a huge HD TV on the wall with a large selection of DVDs, CDs and a few old videos stacked on some shelves on either side.
In the back left of the room, there are a few camp beds folded up and maps of the area taped to the wall, along with other paper clippings and articles. The desk is old and worn, just like its rickety chair. The desk doesn’t look very organized. It’s covered with plastic cups of old stale tea and wrappers of chocolate bars and crisp packets.
In the centre of the room is a set of stairs that leads up to an open-plan bedroom. As I walk up the stairs, the first thing I notice is the bed. I mean, you can’t miss it―it’s huge, as in two king-size beds stuck together huge. It looks soft with thick fluffy pillows on it and a blanket clearly made for winter.
To the left of the room is a door, the first I’ve seen in the cabin, which must mean it’s the bathroom. Thank God that isn't open-spaced too.
The only other furniture in the room is an old TV stand with an older-looking television sitting on it. If I was to guess, I would say it once belonged downstairs until someone―I’m guessing Dean―bought the big-ass plasma instead.
The place is beautiful. It needs some work done on the outside and a clean-up downstairs but other than that, I love it here. They must have had this built after my parents died; there was no way my parents knew about this place and didn’t bring me. This is the kind of place my dad loved because of the potential hunting game.
“This is amazing. I was kind of worried that it would fall down on us in our sleep,” I admit, chuckling at Dean’s expression.
He bursts out laughing at my remark. “Lo, the place is stronger than it looks, I swear. The only reason the outside doesn’t look like much is because it hasn’t been painted in a few years.
“We had a few bad storms a while back, and it caused the paint to start chipping away. The cabin managed to stay standing through it, which is more than I can say for the stables. They were originally built by the gates, the ones we first entered. The storm completely destroyed them.”
“Oh, I wondered why the horses were so far away,” I murmur, hoping none of the horses got hurt.
“We didn’t want to risk re-building them in case we had another storm. We were lucky none of the horses were up here. One of the blokes who worked for my granddad warned us it wouldn’t be safe when dad first built the barn, especially since we were so high up and all, so we built another one lower down. We needed to. Not only did some of the rangers sleep here but so did I. I basically lived here at one point, building it up. I was going to move in permanently, but it’s a pain in the ass coming up and down all the time.”
“Well, I think the place looks great. I was wondering why there was a bed and stuff here,” I tell him truthfully, still eyeing its characteristics. “No wonder you like it here, it’s great.”
The place is beautiful. Yes, it’s old and looks like it needs some TLC, but Dean has done a great job. That’s if you turn a blind eye to the junk wrappers on the desk downstairs.
“C’mon back downstairs. I’ll make us some dinner,” he says, heading for the stairs before stopping and turning to eye me. “Do you want to watch a movie? It’s getting too late to go explore.”
I ponder the question as he looks on at me amused. I tap at my chin dramatically. I mean, do I want to put Dean through a chick flick, comedy, or a sappy romance? Decisions, decisions.
“Hmmm,” I hum, my expression straight faced.
“If you’re even thinking about watching a chick flick, you can think again. There aren’t any here.” He grins like he can read my blooming mind.
I burst out laughing as the memory of making him sit through the movies Bring it On, Ghost and, of course, The Lion King pops into my head. Dean was not a happy camper, not just because of my DVD choice but because I sang to all the cheerleading chants in Bring It On. Although, he never even criticised my singing or dancing skills, which weren’t really that bad. I think I made the night worse for him when I put on The Lion King. We had just got to the part when the dad lion dies when his parents and a few of his mates, walked in. By that time, Dean was a sobbing mess. He never lived crying at the cartoon movie down. He ignored me for weeks after that. God, his face when he realised he had been caught… It was epic.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, lifting his eyebrow in confusion when I start to chuckle out loud.
“Oh, you know, nothing much.” I shrug, staring at him mischievously. It’s hard to keep a straight face. “Just thinking about that time you cried like a baby at The Lion King.”
“Is that so?” he asks, grinning as he takes a step forward. God, the look in his eyes. I know that look; he’s up to something. “You do realise I had something in my eye, and that I wasn’t actually crying, right? It had nothing to do with that damn movie.”
Sheesh, he’s even good-looking when he sulks.
“What? Can’t handle the truth, Dean?” I tease, giggling. I think back then he told himself that he had something in his eyes so much he actually started to believe the lie himself.
I take a step back as he takes another towards me. He has that mischievous grin on his face which can only mean trouble.
“Oh, you are so going to pay for that, Lola Bear.” He takes another step towards me, but that’s not why I step back; it’s the old nickname he used to call me. He’d only ever use it when he was about to torture me by tickling me to death. Before I can run or take another step, I’m airborne, landing on the bed with a bounce.
He jumps on top of me, pinning my arms above my head with one hand while the other begins to tickle me. I start to laugh uncontrollably.
Squirming under him in a fit of giggles, I try everything I can to buck him off. His strong hold falls when I knock his elbow with my hand, but it only causes his arm to bend, bringing his face closer to mine. Time stops, along with my breath, as I lie there staring into the most hypnotising, beautiful blue eyes.
My breathing comes in huge pants, along with Dean’s. We’re both lost in each other’s gaze for a few minutes before his eyes flicker down to my lips. My tongue snakes out, licking the bottom one, and his eyes dilate.
I wish he would just kiss me.
I don't know where that thought comes from, or what it means. Since arriving here at Cabin Lake, I’ve felt like I’m living another life. My head is all over the place. One thing I’m sure of―I’m happy here. I finally feel like I belong.
I’m too busy with wishing he’d kiss me and thinking of running away when the door downstairs flings open, interrupting us. At the sound, we both pull apart, our locked gaze breaking. I flush, embarrassed.
“Hello?” a man shouts from downstairs, sounding frighteningly scary.
I hear Dean mutter a curse under his breath, along with something else. And although I’ve not fully heard what he’s said, I nod, totally agreeing with him. Whoever has disturbed us better have a good excuse because for once, I was about to do something I wanted to do and not what someone else wanted me to do.
When the man shouts up the stairs again, this time sounding weary, it’s familiar, like I’ve heard him before.
Intrigued and a little curious, I follow Dean downstairs, wanting to put a face to that voice.