Page 3 of One Golden Ring
Mr. Lockwood reaches for the front door just as I get to the steps of the little porch, and to my amazement he twists the knob and it swings open.
That door wasn’t even locked.
I guess we really are more or less out in the middle of nowhere. It’s been so long since I spent any time in ahome without a safety chain and at least one deadbolt that I forgot places like this still existed.
It’s definitely not full of bank robbers and wild animals,I reassure myself as I trot up the porch steps to join him in our not-chalet.
So our little weekend getaway has thrown me one curveball. That’s fine. I’m sure the rest of our stay will be smooth sailing. And I’m sure that sharing such a small space with the boss I’ve been crushing on for years won’t be weird at all.
2
DARCY
Mr. Lockwood scans the interior of the cabin then steps aside, allowing me to go in first.
He’s got this gentlemanly streak that always takes me by surprise.
Normally it stokes the fire of my helpless crush. But right now I’m not loving being the first one in.
But I guess if he looked inside then it must be safe.
I step into the cabin and not only can I see right away that it’snotfull of wild animals and bank robbers, but I’m honestly even more in love with the place than before.
Just like I hoped, there’s a fireplace against the back wall with a wood stove insert. The rest of the space is lightly furnished, allowing my eye to be drawn to the beamed ceiling and exposed logs.
Mr. Lockwood steps in and finds a light switch that lets me see even more detail.
A soft green loveseat faces the fireplace with two big red upholstered chairs on either side. There’s a bookshelf stocked with paperbacks against the left wall, and adoorway on either side of it. Off to the right is an open kitchen with a peninsula and stools.
Nothing here is new. In fact, I’m willing to guess that most of it is older than I am. But it’s neat and tidy, and cozy as can be. The whole thing makes me feel like I stepped into the Goldilocks story—hopefully without the bears.
How did I not think to google if there were bears on this mountain?
“Cold,”Mr. Lockwood growls, like he’s just tasted Mama Bear’s porridge.
He’s right though. I was too charmed to notice it at first, but it’s cold enough that I’m surprised my breath isn’t clouding in the air like it did outside.
“It’s not a problem,” I say brightly. “I’ll turn up the heat.”
It’s automatic for me to take in whatever is bothering him and cheerfully spit out a solution. That’s our relationship in a nutshell, and we’re both used to it. So while he strides off in the direction of those two doorways, I find the thermostat.
When I turn the dial, I listen for a click and then the roar of the furnace coming to life.
But there’s nothing.
I move the dial up and down a few times with no luck, and there’s no on/off switch on the thing.
“I think the thermostat is broken,” I say as I head to the door he disappeared into. “Would you like me to call the host? Or should I try to book us another place?”
“Sounds about right,” he mutters, as he swings his suitcase onto the bed.
It’s a great big four-poster that reminds me of the old John Denver song my mom used to love, about his grandma’s featherbed. I smile to myself even though my mind is racing for more ways to solve this problem.
“Did they mention if there’s wood for the wood stove?” I ask.
“I’m going to head to the lodge to see my grandfather,” he says. “I’ll ask about the heat.”
It’s no wonder I didn’t see this place on the short-term rental site. It’s owned by the lodge. I guess that makes sense since it’s so close.
