Page 16

CHAPTER 15

LIZZY

I FEEL LIKE BELLE

Driving up the hill along the long, snow covered gravel driveway to Clay’s house is picturesque. I’m glad I have the Bronco because otherwise this would be rough to get in and out of. And he’s right, his house is fifteen minutes closer to my office. I will give him that.

I spent the rest of the morning packing up a few things while also calling my dad to let him know about the condo. I gave him a piece of my mind about not telling me about the construction upstairs in the first place. Surprisingly, he wasn’t that worried about the condo and just asked if I was alright. I told him that fortunately, none of my things were damaged but the condo is going to be out of commission for a few weeks. He told me to keep him posted on how the repairs are going and that he’d be out in a few weeks to check in on some of his new investments and entertain some business partner.

No surprise. Nothing new there. He’ll come out for his business, but not even a hey, let’s get together and get lunch or hey, I would love to see you and catch up, Lizzy. Let’s have dinner.

I’m stewing on that conversation until I pull up through the trees to the end of the driveway and reach Clay’s house.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. Clay’s a bachelor in his late twenties and a rough and tumble contractor at that. I turn down my radio and take off my sunglasses to fully appreciate it.

But this?

The sleek, but somehow rustic modern house is set back in the trees on the edge of a hill looking back towards Park City and the mountains. In the center, there’s an A-Frame roofline with floor to ceiling windows on the front and back, giving a clear view straight from the driveway to the view of the mountains and ski slopes off in the distance. On the right of the A-Frame is a three car garage with black metal and frosted glass doors and on the left the house continues in a low, single floor wing. The whole house is rough, exposed timbers, raw steel, glass and concrete, like a beautiful mid-century modern design was fused with a rustic mountain home.

It’s almost so striking and stunning that I would doubt it was Clay’s, until the garage door on the end opens to reveal him, leaning against a covered car, shaking his head at me. I pull the Bronco into the open third spot in the garage, curiously taking note of the covered car in the center spot that he’s leaning against.

I park and almost jump when Clay is at my door, already opening it.

“Um, hi.” I look at him skeptically. “You’re opening doors for me now?”

He lets out a hushed laugh as he leans against the car door. “Well, this Bronco is ridiculous and I had to see for myself how your short ass hops out of it.”

I glower back at him. “I’m surprisingly athletic I’ll have you know.” I turn and hang my legs over the side of the seat and hop down. Suddenly, I’m now eye level with the open neck line of his black henley and trapped between him and the door of my car. How is it that I’m always so up close with him like this? He must sense it because he stands to the side and shrugs one shoulder.

“And besides, you’re a guest. Manners matter. Come on, let me get your bag.” He takes another step back and holds the door open, gesturing towards the door into the house. Manners matter. That’s refreshing, but not something that jumps to mind when you look at Clay.

He leads me into the kitchen from the garage, setting my bag down on the bench just inside the door. He stops and points back towards the wall next to me. “Shoes in the tray there on the floor and keys on the hook up there.”

I look to my left and see the wall hooks with keys, coats, hats and then the tray on the floor with his shoes and boots. I huff a laugh and look back at him. “Didn’t have you pegged for the neat and tidy type.” He just stares back at me.

“Please. I just like to keep the place organized.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. “Ok, ok.” I put my things where he asked and then look around the kitchen. Or more like the whole main living area. The center of the A-frame portion of the house is a modern, open floor-plan space. The living area along the back main wall with floor to ceiling windows looks out over the ski resorts and mountains in the distance.

But that’s not what catches my eye. Everything is so meticulously laid out. The place is spotless but not sterile. It’s decorated in a sort of cozy meets modern ski lodge with beautiful polished floors. There’s a big leather couch with square arms and a southwestern patterned wool blanket folded neatly across the back. A fireplace is in the center of the windowed wall, framed by exposed wood beams coming down from the ceiling. There are two leather chairs on either side of it, facing the couch. The table in the dining area is a warm, live oak edged table big enough to seat ten people.

And then the kitchen. Wow, Veronica would lose her mind if she hasn’t seen this already. It’s all clean lines, but still homey and warm with flat fronted, walnut cabinets and a white marble waterfall island. But like everything else I can see around me, it’s methodically organized and clean with everything in its place.

This is definitely not what I expected from Clay Chapman, the rugged fuckboy from Roxy’s. This isn’t a bachelor pad or even a small rustic cabin like Tanner’s place in Jackson. This is stunning. It’s not huge, but it’s so thoughtful and cozy and beautifully designed .

Clay clears his throat, getting my attention. “Something wrong?” I look at him and there’s a contemplative, almost concerned look on his face.

I huff another laugh and smile back at him. “Nothing’s wrong. But are you sure this is your house?” I gesture my hand around the room, admiring the place.

He looks back at me with a proud smile I haven’t seen before, letting his dimples peek out. “Yep. Lived here since the day I finished building it a few years ago.”

My eyes go wide. “You built this place?”

He grins back at me, the smile from earlier replaced by the cocky, smug one I’m much more familiar with. “What? You thought I was just some eye candy construction worker you could eyefuck at the bar and again at the penthouse door?”

I palm my face and shake my head. “Fair point.” I look over at the fireplace and windows and gesture around again. “But this? It’s beautiful. Did you work with a local designer?”

I look back at him and notice his cheeks are almost pink. “No. I designed it,” he says softly.

“ You designed and built this ?” I say, pointing my finger towards the ceiling.

One side of his mouth pulls together and he shrugs while looking down at the ground.

“Yeah. My parents had the land and always meant to build their own place here. But after mom. My dad didn’t have the heart to build on the lot.” His voice trails off for a second before he clears his throat. “It took me a couple years working on it in my spare time, salvaging material from other jobs, and calling in favors with other construction guys I know. But I got it done eventually.”

This side of Clay is so different than the other ones I’m used to seeing. The softness is so jarring that if I hadn’t met him before, I’d think he’s a big teddy bear like his brother .

My thoughts are pulled away when a sound coming from the hallway catches my attention. I look up and I’m instantly terrified by the monster running at me.

“Jesus Christ. What is that?” I practically scream, leaping behind Clay and grabbing him.

I’m holding him so tightly that I can feel his chest rumble when he laughs. “That’s little orphan Ani,” he says, casually and mater-of-factly.

Clay kneels down, forcing me to let go of him. “That is a wolf, Clay.” My voice is breathy and my heart is still pounding.

“What? You don’t like dogs?” I watch as he ruffles the fur on the dog's head in both of his big hands.

I stay standing with Clay between Ani and me. “I like dogs. He just caught me off guard. Sorry, it’s been a day and I’m just on edge.”

“Bed!” Clay’s voice is deep and cool. I watch as the dog turns, walks over to a dog bed on the floor in front of the fireplace and plops down on it with a huff before chewing on a toy. Ok, that was kind of hot. A man in command.

“Good boy,” he says calmly before standing and turning to face me. Something about his commanding presence stirs up a funny feeling in my stomach. “Yeah. Again, sorry it’s been a rough day. I still can’t believe I fucked up like that. But you don’t have to worry about Ani. He’s harmless and will do whatever you say.”

“ He ?” I look at the dog and back at Clay. “Isn’t Annie a girl’s name?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “He’s named after Anakin-”

“Skywalker,” I cut him off and smile back at him. “Let me guess. He’s a rescue?”

He looks at me with wide eyes and his mouth slowly morphs into a smile. “You are full of surprises. I would never guess that you’d get that reference. ”

“Those movies are my dad's favorites. I can’t tell you how many times I watched all of them. I swear he wishes I loved them as much as he does.” I roll my eyes and scoff. “At least I have him to thank for understanding way too many pop cultural references now.”

“Yeah. Our dad loves them too. Tanner, Collin, and I were obsessed and always made Veronica and Grace watch them with us.” He looks toward the TV above the fireplace like he’s thinking about a distant memory. “Anyways, let’s get you to your room.”

He leads me down the hallway that Ani originally came running out of. I notice an open door on the right and stop for a second to look in the room. There are floor to ceiling bookshelves on two sides of the space, another leather and walnut chair in the corner, and a large sit-stand desk in the other corner, facing me.

Clay stops and turns, noticing that I’m not right behind him any more. “That’s my office. If you need a space to work, you’re welcome to use that desk.” I’m still only planning to just stay tonight and look for another place until the condo is fixed, but it’s still nice of him to offer.

“Thanks. You weren’t kidding - you read a lot.” I wave my hand at the books on both walls.

His brows furrow and he shrugs, looking back into the office. “I don’t have much of a social life. I prefer books over people.”

Now that I can relate to. A book boyfriend has never let me down. And books are always an escape from reality. Sometimes a much needed one. But still, there’s something oddly amusing about picturing this rugged, tattooed, works-with-his-hands man sitting in a chair by the fire, reading a book. Honestly it’s kind of hot.

“Hey.” Clay clicks his tongue, getting my attention back from my thoughts. He cocks his head back towards the shelves in the office. “You’re welcome to read any of them. If you’re here, my house is your house. ”

He turns and walks down the hall, stopping at the second to last door on the right. “My room is at the end of the hall. Both our rooms have en-suites, so you’ll have a bathroom to yourself. It should be stocked, but if you need anything just ask.” He opens the door and extends an arm inside, gesturing for me to walk in. “But this is you.”

I walk in, not surprised at all to see a room as meticulously decorated and thought out as the rest of the house. Large windows look out over the mountains in the distance. There’s a chair in the corner with an end table and reading lamp, a dresser, and a king sized bed with a gray upholstered headboard.

And the pillows! This bed looks incredibly cozy. I always think of men as having one, maybe two pillows and worn bedding. But this guest bed has shams, pillows, accent pillows - all the bells and whistles. It looks like someone got turned loose with a credit card at a home goods store.

I turn back to look at him. He looks amused but nervous, watching me take in the room. “This is nice, but again you really didn’t have to let me stay here. I’ll look for a place over the weekend. But I appreciate this for tonight.”

He swallows and his jaw tightens. “Yes, I did.” He rolls his back and stands tall in the doorway. “I told you. It was my fault. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

I hear Ani come down the hall and stop behind Clay. He turns and looks down, patting him on the head. “As for him, he might try to come in the room and sleep with you. He’s kind of clingy. If you don’t want him in here, just lock the door. Otherwise he’ll flip the handle. Not sure how he learned that.”

I let out a laugh and look at the dog. “Well, that’s slightly terrifying, but thanks for the heads up.”

Clay just nods. “Anyways, if you need something, just let me know. I need to take him outside. ”

He turns and walks down the hall. I lean against the door and listen as I hear the front door open and close. I set my bags in front of the dresser and plop down on the foot of the bed.

Ok. This bed is soft and comfy. I need to ask him where he got this bedding.

I lay back further, sinking into the cozy bed and finally exhaling after the shit show of a day I’ve had.

This won’t be that bad. I can stay here tonight, maybe the weekend, and find a new place for next week while they fix the condo.

Clay promised he’d make things right and there’s something almost comforting about the way he said it.

I wake up, almost in shock. Not because I’m in Clay’s house, but because I slept better than I have in ages. Maybe it was the stress of everything happening yesterday, but I slept like a rock. Or maybe it was the insanely comfortable bed and not having a noisy upstairs neighbor.

But either way, I slept great. Maybe I should consider staying here after all. But now, my grumbling stomach is screaming at me for food and coffee.

I begrudgingly pry myself out of the warm, cozy bed, put on some socks, and quietly open the door to head to the kitchen.

I don’t know why I’m being so quiet. I remember that Clay gets up at the crack of dawn and has already been at the job site for an hour before I’m even awake.

I walk down the hall, stopping at the office when something catches my eye. When I saw it last night, I was tired and groggy and the books were the only thing I noticed .

So many books.

Fiction novels, books on the history of skiing and racing, books on architecture.

But now, I see the other wall. It’s covered in old skis, framed pictures, and floating shelves with trophies and medals. I step towards it in awe. There are so many medals and trophies from Clay’s juniors and early pro career. So many golds. Still, I feel like Belle, as if you could call Clay a beast , wandering around his home and peering into his life.

There are pictures of him and his ski teams, him on the slopes skiing, and on the podium. But two photos jump out at me. The first is a late teenage Clay with a taller, brown haired woman with an infectious smile. It’s impossible to not see that it’s his mom. They’re in the trees near a black rocky outcropping in typical ski gear, not racing gear, both smiling ear to ear. It’s a smile I have never seen on Clay or could even imagine on him from my interactions with him.

In the second picture, it looks like he’s in his late teens or early twenties. His eyes have already started to take on that hardened look I know. He’s smiling, if you could call it that, with his lips closed and pressed together. More like a grimace. Kayleigh is next to him and her dad is standing behind them. Something doesn’t sit right with me about it. Her dad looks possessive and neither Clay nor Kayleigh look genuinely happy, especially compared to the picture of him with his mom.

I keep walking along the wall, looking at all the pictures. That is until my stomach growls again.

OK, you win stomach. Coffee and food it is.