Page 10 of Chasing Dreams
Shivering, Shaine peeled off her wet clothing, opened the double oak doors and indeed found stacked appliances.
The steaming water felt wonderful. The soap in the dish had the identical fresh woodsy smell as the man, and standing here in the same spot he had earlier was innocently suggestive. Shaine washed her hair and enjoyed the tingling warmth of the spray over her scalp and body as she rinsed.
She dried her hair quickly, dressed in clean jeans, her Husker sweatshirt and warm socks. She wiped the vanity, hung her towels, as well as his, and flipped off the light.
The table between the sofas, a long low slab of varnished pine, had been set with plates, cups and a platter of sandwiches.
“Sit.”
Shaine turned, uncertain if the command was for her or the dog. The man motioned her to the sofa, and she lowered herself, keeping an eye on him as he sat across from her. She glanced from the food to his sober expression. “Why did you do this?”
He handed her a plate. “Couldn’t let you stay out there and catch pneumonia.”
She selected a sandwich and took a bite, trying to concentrate on the chicken salad. “I’m a little dizzy.”
“It’s the altitude.”
“Oh, sure.” The steam rising from the mugs on the table met her nostrils, and she reached for one. Hot chocolate. She inhaled, blew across the surface and sipped.
They ate, the mannerly Daisy dozing on the carpeted floor.
“How’d you find this place?” he asked.
“Tom Stempson.”
He stopped chewing for a moment, but didn’t look up.
After Shaine had appeased her hunger, she sat back with her mug between her palms.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
She looked up. “Omaha.”
He gave a half nod.
“Have you been there?”
“I’ve been through.”
“I’ve never been much of anywhere else. This is the first time I’ve been to Colorado. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s prettier the later in the season it gets. The aspens turn first, like they’re starting to do now. For weeks all you see are shades of yellow.” He clamped his mouth shut and looked away as though realizing he’d been chatting with an unwelcome visitor.
“Please. Tell me, are you Mr. Allen’s son?”
His gaze came back and didn’t waver. “Yes.”
She leaned forward, not wishing to dampen the few friendly words they’d finally exchanged, but unwilling to wait any longer. “If he won’t see me, will you talk to him for me? I know I’ve imposed on you, coming here like this. I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t desperate.”
“Who do you want to find?”
How many hundreds of people had sought out Austin Allen for his extraordinary ability to help them find their loved ones? Why would she seem any different? But she didn’t want him to find Jack for her...did she? She wanted him to help her understand her dreams. “My nephew was—”
“Ah,” he said with a curt nod, interrupting as though she’d just explained it all, and it wasn’t worth his attention. He reached for the empty plates.
“No. Wait a minute.” Shaine leaned forward and reached toward him.
Pausing, he stared at her palm.
