Page 65 of Poet & Protector

“Where are we?” Mason’s bewilderment delighted me. “What’s going on?”

“This is Tom and Caleb’s cabin,” I told him. “Don’t worry. They invited us.”

The door unlocked and I opened it, waving for him to follow me inside. I stepped into a small entryway with cubbies for boots and hooks for our jackets and winter gear. Quickly shedding my outer layers and boots, I continued into the cabin. Mason was still glancing around, puzzled, as he took off his coat and boots.

“Tom and Caleb own this place?” Mason asked, closing the door to the entryway behind him.

“Technically, Tom does,” I replied. “But you know they share everything. They use it themselves sometimes, but mostly in the winter. In the summer they rent it out. As you saw, it’s not exactly easy to get here once the snow arrives.”

“Unless you’re a wolf.” Mason shot me a smile.

I smiled back. “It has its perks.”

The cabin’s main room had a small kitchen with a dining nook near the entrance and a living area with a wood-burning fireplace. I noticed a platter covered in plastic wrap and an envelope with our names on it sitting on the kitchen table, which I was curious about, but I had a few tasks I wanted to take care of before Mason caught on to the whole plan.

“You’re wearing a sweater.” Mason’s brow pinched. He reached out and ran his fingers down my arm. “A cashmere sweater.”

I suspected he’d notice I was dressed differently than usual, but I’d hoped it would take a little longer. I should have known better. Wardrobe variations were something Mason instantly homed in on.

“It’s cold.” I evaded his implicit question. I had dressed up for tonight, swapping my usual black t-shirt and jeans for a v-neck sweater that, yes, was cashmere, but was still black, and a nicer pair of jeans in dark indigo.

Mason was also wearing a sweater, instead of his usual button-down and vest, because it was cold. His sweater was a sporty, zip-up style in navy with rust and brown color blocking that had a definite retro vibe. He looked incredible, as always.

“Wait here a sec,” I told him. “I’ll be right back.”

Mason nodded, still scrutinizing my outfit as I walked away.

Leaving the main area, I went into the bedroom, closing the door behind me but not completely so I didn’t make him too suspicious.

I set my bag, which contained the things I hoped I would need in a little while, beside the nightstand then went to the wood-burning fireplace in this room and quickly lit the kindling already arranged inside. I waited for the flames to catch, then added a small log. When that was burning steadily, I added a second log. I kept glancing at the bedroom door, worrying that Mason would barge in before I had everything set up.

I didn’t need to be concerned. Something else had captured his attention.

“There are cookies!” Mason exclaimed as I returned to the main room. “They look homemade. Does Tom bake? Does Caleb? Is that something they do?”

He was pointing at the platter on the kitchen table.

“They left a note,” he said, eyes bright with excitement. “Can I open it? I was waiting for you.”

“Go ahead,” I said, smiling. “Tell me what it says.”

The note was a surprise to me. As were the cookies. I had no idea what the note was about. If Caleb decided to be clever and left some helpful ‘tips’ for our evening I would not be amused.

“Dear Mason and Nev,” Mason read. “We hope you enjoy the cabin. Blessed Winter Solstice.”

Short and sweet. No embarrassing commentary. Good.

Mason unwrapped the cookie platter. “So they’re not going to be here?”

He looked at me for an answer and I shook my head.

“No,” I told him. “Just us.”

“I thought maybe you guys planned a double date.” Mason smiled at me. “That would be fun.”

“Sure,” I replied. “I bet they’d be up for that another time.”

He selected a cookie, turned, and began to check out the rest of the room, munching on the cookie as he went. I might have been annoyed by his distraction if not for how endearing his enthusiasm was as he darted around the kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards, determined to investigate everything.