Page 9 of Hensley Manor
The couple walked back up the stairs, and Ian watched them a moment before meeting my gaze—which had stubbornly locked back on him. He approached me, his gaze traveling to my damp hair.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his brow creasing.
“Yeah. I think I just need some fresh air.” The cold air might help me clear my head.
“I wouldn’t step outside with wet hair,” he said. “Unless you want to make a fashion statement with icicles in your hair.”
“You never know. Could be a new trend,” I responded. Then something occurred to me. “You said your last name is Hensley? Well, you wrote it in the note you left on the clothes.”
“That’s correct. And this is Hensley manor.”
Hensley Manor. I remembered hearing the name before. But from where?
No. Surely not.
The answer slammed into me so hard that my legs shook. I braced a hand on the wall behind me and sucked in a breath. There was no fucking way. None at all.
“Cole?”
I ran for the front door, hearing the old woman’s words from the antique store echo in my head.
“That snow globe was one of my favorite items in the store. Hensley Manor is beautiful.”
Reaching the door, I flung it open and ran outside. Cold air hit my face and caught the wet strands of my hair. My gloveless hands stung, but I couldn’t think about the miserable temperature right now. I nearly lost my balance on the icy porch, but I caught myself on the railing near the stairs. I made my way down the five steps and ran into the yard, looking at the vast walls of snow-covered trees surrounding the house.
And then I turned to face the manor, feeling like I was about to pass out.
The arched doorway, long windows, and brick exterior—it was all familiar. A light flickered on inside, shining through the same window I had thought I’d seen a light in while gazing at the manor before. Except now the manor was life-sized, and I was standing in front of it.
I was inside the snow globe.
Chapter Three
That was impossible. Icouldn’tbe inside a damn snow globe. Hensley Manor had to be a real place, and in my drunken haze, I had probably researched the location of the manor and traveled there.
That was theonlyexplanation.
Though…I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything felt off. According to Ian, I had arrived at the manor the night before, had a full conversation with him where I explained losing my luggage, and then he had showed me to my room and lent me his own clothes. And I remembered none of it. That was a massive amount of time I couldn’t account for.
Ian stepped outside and stood at the top of the porch. He crossed his arms and his breath fanned out in front of him. “Do you mind telling me what’s wrong, Mr. Wiley? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
A ghost would be the least of my worries.
Slowly, I walked through the snow and up the steps toward him. “I’m…just tired, I think.” He would never understand the truth. Hell,Ididn’t even understand it. “Probably need to lie down.”
Ian opened the door for me and closed it once we were back inside. “Perhaps it’s jet lag. If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
I arched a brow. “Are you this accommodating to all your guests? Lending out your clothes and everything?”
He smiled. “Well, no other guests lose all of their belongings. It was the least I could do to help. Your own clothes should be washed and dried by now. I’ll check on them and have them brought up to you. Have you tried contacting the airline about your luggage?”
“Erm, not exactly. I’ll get right on that.” I patted my pockets for my phone before I remembered I didn’t have it on me. And I didn’t recall seeing it in my room, either. Losing a bag, I could understand, but not having my phone on me when I got here? Something weird was definitely going on. “Can I borrow a phone?”
“Of course.” Ian fished out his cell from his pocket and handed it over.
I stared at the screen, unsure what airline to call. Stepping away from Ian so I could have some privacy, I brought up a search engine and typed inEvergreen Valleyso I could get a better idea of what airport was in the area.Only one result came up. The town was nestled in the north, literally in the middle of nowhere, and only one airline flew in and out of the area; Treasures of Old Airways.
Upon seeing the name, I froze.
