Page 91 of Making New Plans

My bones practically vibrated with the desire to go to him. I couldn’t choke out the words a third time, so I settled for a terse nod.

In one quick motion, he grazed the back of my hand with his fingertips then turned and strode out the door. I stood frozen for several minutes, his touch burned into my skin. On shaky legs, I walked to the door and shut it behind him. Then locked it. Then stumbled over to the ravaged bed and collapsed on it. And for the first time since that awful Sunday, I burst into tears.

Once I’d cried my eyes out, I cleaned myself up and headed downstairs. On the front desk sat my binder of ideas with one last sticky note fixed on it.

We can still make your dreams come true, Chloe. Thank you for sharing these with me. Hunter.

34

Chloe

“You have flour in your hair.”

My hands flew to my ponytail and started swiping. Sarah eyed me like I was a rabid pigeon before she reached over and brushed the supposed flour from my hair.

“Thanks,” I said breathlessly, shoving another tray of chocolate chip cookies in the oven.

Sarah nodded wordlessly and glanced around the lodge’s kitchen. Mixing bowls, dirty spoons, and open canisters of ingredients littered the metal tables.

“Um, Chloe, did Mable give you permission to make cookies without her or George present?”

“What do you mean?” I glared at her, clawing open a new bag of flour that sprayed everywhere.

She grimaced. “Well, you know the last time you baked in here, Mable nearly fainted from the mess you created. That’s why George is usually present for any of your kitchen escapades.”

“Whatever. I’m almost done.” I cranked up the hand mixer and attacked some ingredients in a bowl.

I’d been baking for a few hours. Dom and his friends would be here any minute, and I wanted them to have fresh cookies for the whole night. Plus, some for myself and Sarah. I was also going to leave a few for Mable and George because I wasn’t totally ungrateful for the kitchen time. Obviously, I was also going to clean up after myself. But cookies first.

I’d been in a funk all week, but after Hunter left yesterday, I’d been nothing short of a whirlwind. The maids had complained that I hadn’t left any cleaning for them to do in the rooms because I’d already done it. Mable had kicked me out of the kitchen this morning when I’d tried to help her grandson, who, I hated to admit, was much better at cooking than me. Then I’d focused my energy on stockpiling Dom’s room with blankets and pillows. I’d tried to set up Carter’s video game console on the TV in the room. And failed. Which meant I had to call him to come set it up, hovering over his shoulder the whole time until he threw me out as well.

When I couldn’t find anything else to do, I shadowed Jameson around his small construction zone by the old house. He’d been too nice to give me the boot, but after the third world-weary sigh, I figured I’d worn out my welcome.

But damn it, I needed distractions. Once Dom’s sleepover was over, I didn’t know if the lodge had enough to keep me busy 24/7. Hunter was everywhere in my mind, and my mind could only outrun him for so long.

Hence, the crazy.

When Dom and his friends showed up, I dusted the flour and bits of batter from my tee shirt and pants. Sarah and I helped them carry their duffel bags and backpacks upstairs to their room. They seemed fairly excited about the size of the room, the food, and the video games I’d displayed by the TV.

After they were settled, Sarah and I took a few minutes to set up our room next to the boys. We’d promised the three mothers to not leave the lodge at any point, sleep a room away, and call immediately if anything happened. Gina was working at Baciami again tonight and had been extremely grateful that Sarah and I had volunteered for this.

Sarah had grumbled a bit, but one look at my deranged expression, and she agreed. A lot of people had been doing that lately. Agreeing to appease me. Looking at me like I might detonate, especially when I received yet another tater tot consolation casserole.

But I shrugged off their pity. I’d been doing that a lot the past week. Despite being overly tense where Hunter was concerned, I discarded everything else.

After the rooms were settled, Sarah and I headed back downstairs to the kitchen. I pulled the baked cookies out of the oven and set to work cleaning and storing everything.

Sarah silently helped me, but I’d known her long enough to know a storm was brewing. She shut each tin with a definitive snap and scrubbed at the metal tables like she intended to strip away the steel. I washed bowls and measuring utensils, waiting for her to boil over.

Finally, she threw down her rag and faced me with her hands on her hips. “Okay, I can’t take it anymore. Where do we stand? Do we hate Hunter? Enough to send him a package of poison ivy? Or are we more in a eat-our-body-weight-in-junk-food stage? Or none of the above?”

I gave a reluctant chuckle and shrugged as I dunked a metal mixing bowl in the soapy water. “I don’t know where I am anymore. Everything seems to be whirling around me, and I can’t land on any particular emotion or conclusion. I just don’t know.”

My voice sounded bleak even to my ears and caused Sarah’s frown to fade.

“Okay, well, maybe we need to talk then. Help you figure it out.”

I brushed a strand of hair out of my face with a sudsy wrist. “There’s not much to say. We had a fling. He left. I’m here. The lodge is his. I still have my job. For now. The end.”

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