Page 6

I whistled lowly as I drove by, checking that no one was behind me as I craned my neck to take in the expansive grounds. The lodge itself looked modest as far as luxury ski resorts went, but it was the land around it that caught my attention.

Acres upon acres of land stretched on, designated to the different outdoor activities they offered aside from skiing.

I drove for a full minute before the forest marked the edge of the property line. And even then, I knew they had dibs on some of that land too. My parents had visited two years ago when it opened and couldn’t stop raving about the suspended bridge excursion in the forest.

Turning my full attention back to the road in front of me, I accelerated and kept driving until I got to my turn off.

Whimsy Lane.

A fond smile touched my lips as my car dipped onto the dirt path leading to the cabin about half a mile into the woods.

I drove slowly, careful not to kick up too much dust in my wake.

First, the house my grandfather told me about peeked through the trees. It was a new build and hadn’t been here the last time I visited.

But damn, it was stunning.

A modern twist on a traditional log cabin, the front of it was all windows from floor to ceiling. Instead of a grassy yard, apond stretched toward the perimeter of the lawn. Stones lined the edge of the water, marking a clear boundary around the property.

My lips quirked up at the chimney on the left side of the house. It looked just as cozy as it looked luxurious.

“If you need anything while you’re out there, your neighbors can help. Greyson and Noah. Just knock on their door and they’ll fix you right up.”

My grandfather’s parting words rang in my ear as I continued down the path, coming up on the back of the house. The front was misleading because the back opened up into an L-shape with even more space and a fully decked out courtyard with outdoor furniture, a grill and a bird feeding station.

The only thing missing was a sign of life. There were no cars as far as I could see which probably meant nobody was home. Maybe they didn’t live here full-time. It looked more like a vacation home than anything else.

Either way, it didn’t matter. Because luckily, I didn’t plan on needing help. I would speak if I ever ran into them, but I was here to write. Not be a social butterfly.

Finally, the quaint cabin I’d inherited appeared after another subtle bend in the road. Memories rushed me as soon as I put my car in park.

Aside from my grandparents’ house, this was the place I used to visit most when my family came to Bliss Peak. My Aunt Opal had lived her life simply and alone. She never married or had kids, and my father was her favorite nephew, so she’d taken me and my sister under her wing.

It was strange being here without both of them, but I refused to ruminate on what no longer was. Taking my key out of the ignition, I focused instead on everything that could be and got out the car to take my things in the house. The next few months were going to be interesting.

I pulled the protective cover off the couch and end table, bringing the house back to life after it sat empty for months. Earlier this week, my granddad came to make sure the water and electricity were running, but other than that, it looked the same as it had the last time I visited over two years ago.

Exhaling, I fisted my hands at my waist and looked around the small space. From the living room, I could see the whole house. With this layout, there was no hallway. Everything was laid in an open square that managed to not feel cramped even though it was less than five-hundred square feet.

Once I got my groceries in the fridge, I spent the next hour dusting and wiping down every surface in the house. I put fresh sheets on the full-size bed and bleached the bathroom from top to bottom.

By the time I finished, sweat made my old T-shirt stick to my back. I swiped the back of my hand across my forehead, finding sweat there too.

“Time to break in that shower,” I announced to the empty house.

After fighting my ‘Fro into my shower cap, I stripped down and grabbed a plush towel I’d stolen from my grandma’s guest bath. I had plenty of towels of my own, but she had bathsheets. The kind that wrapped around my curves with extra room to spare. And who was I to deny myself that luxury?

Throwing the towel over the back of the shower rod, I stepped into the clawfoot tub with my new loofah and body wash in tow.

Eyes closed, I let the hot water wash over me and work out the tightness in my muscles. When the water had soaked everyinch of my skin, I worked the peony and rose oil body wash into my loofah and ran it over my skin. Then I went to grab the detachable shower head from its perch and my heart stuttered to a stop.

Were those wings?

A flutter of something black in the corner was all I needed to see before I dropped the loofah, grabbed my towel and climbed out of the shower with a quickness I would’ve been impressed by if I wasn’t running for my fucking life.

I didn’t remember much after I flung open the front door and made a run for it. But relief flooded me when I saw a black Denali parked on the side of the house I admired earlier.

It looked like I would be needing help sooner than I thought.