Page 27 of Tough Luck

“Wow, that’s amazing. So just you, me, and a blank slate,” I repeated, taking a sip of my coffee to hide the sudden flush creeping up my neck. “Is there any chance we can stop at Blueberry Bakery for some breakfast?” I asked, as we waited for the stoplight a block from the bakery

Rick glanced over at the ‘Open’ sign and nodded. “Great idea.” When the light turned green, he pulled in front of the store.

When we stepped inside, Bethany cheerfully greeted us. I walked around the counter and hugged her. “How are the girls?”

“They’re going into high school this fall,” she said with a sigh. “I just can’t believe it. We’re going to have to do some school shopping.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we have your website all ready to go. You’re going to be rolling in the dough,” I joked. Bethany chuckled and hugged me but then looked over at Rick.

“Bethany, this is my boss Rick Mylonas. Rick, Bethany Williams.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He shook her hand. “I’ve been in here a few times already. I really enjoyed your fresh croissant sandwiches.”

“Then this one is on the house,” Bethany said quickly. “Sofia has told me about what you did for her, how you helped her since coming on to take over for your dad. I hope he makes a quick recovery.”

“Thanks,” Rick said with a nod.

“What’ll you have Sofia?” she asked, stepping behind the counter again. “You’re usual?”

“Yes, and some of those apple fritter bites for the road,” I added. “I already have my coffee mug, but I drank my first cup and could use another. What about you, Rick? Coffee? Bethany makes the best in town.”

“Sure,” he said and walked over to look at the case filled with sweet treats. “How about we get a cake to enjoy while we’re up at the cabin?” he suggested.

“Chocolate,” I blurted out, and instantly felt like a fool. “It’s my favorite.”

When we were back on the road, enjoying our coffee and treats after breakfast, Rick accelerated down the winding mountain road, leaving the flickering lights of Golden behind us. Finally, the heavy tension from yesterday’s boardroom disaster began to lift, replaced by a brand new, terrifyingly electric tension that had nothing to do with marketing at all.

The drive up through the canyon was breathtaking, as always. As the highway climbed higher toward Estes Park, the massive red rock formations of the foothills gave way to towering, snow-dusted pines and jagged granite peaks that scraped against the brilliant blue sky.

For half an hour, we talked strategy, but as the scenery changed, the conversation shifted. We talked about his time out West, my childhood running wild through the hills around Golden, and everything in between. The easy, playful banter we’d found at the Golden Nugget was back, humming between us like a live wire in the close confines of the car.

In town, we stopped for a herd of elk who slowly crossed the main street at the light. I took several pictures on my phone and sent them to Nova.

By the time Rick turned the Audi off the main road through town onto a rugged, unpaved logging road, the sun was high and bright. The car bounced gently over the frozen dirt track until we crested a ridge, and there it was.

The cabin was stunning. It wasn’t the rustic, broken-down shack that for some reason I’d dreamed about last night. Instead, it was a beautiful, three-story modern sanctuary made of dark timber and massive plates of glass, nestled perfectly into the side of the mountain. A large wraparound deck overlooked sweeping views, and a thin wisp of smoke was already drifting lazily from the stone chimney.

“Good, it looks like Thomas has already been there and started a fire for us,” he said when he saw the smoke. “He’s a family friend and lives down the road.” He motioned to another cabin, which also had smoke bellowing from a chimney.

“Wow,” I said under my breath. “This is incredible.”

“My grandfather built the original structure, but my dad and us boys renovated it a little over ten years ago,” Rick said, a hint of pride in his baritone voice as he killed the engine. “It’s quiet, isolated, and cut off from the grind of the city. Perfect for a corporate heist rescue mission,” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

He got out of the car, and I grabbed my travel mug and stepped into the crisp, biting mountain air. It was dead silent up here, save for the whisper of the wind through the pines and the sounds of a few birds.

Rick unlocked the heavy timber front door, and I followed him inside. The interior was even better than the outside. I glanced around quickly and took in the soaring vaulted ceilings and the massive river-rock fireplace that anchored the main floor. On either side of the heavy stone hearth, towering floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the room with light, offering a dramatic view of outside. A pair of deep, comfortable-looking leather sofas faced each other in front of the fireplace, inviting you to sink in, while a large television hung flat against the adjacent wall.

Just off the front entryway sat a pristine full bathroom and cozy office space, perfect for escaping the noise. Dominating the center of the main floor was a striking open staircase crafted from thick, rustic wood beams that led to the upper level.

Following the flow of the open layout, a long, smooth oak dining table sat to the left of the kitchen, ready for large gatherings. The kitchen itself was tucked into the back left corner of the cabin, a chef’s dream wrapped in warm wood tones. Its wide windows looked directly out over the breathtaking expanse of the valley below and gave a perfect view of the wraparound deck that enveloped the outside of the home, promising incredible summer sunsets once the winter storms cleared.

“Make yourself at home,” Rick said, setting my bag by the base of the stairs. “I’ll grab the rest of the stuff from the car.”

“I can help,” I offered, walking into the sleek, gourmet kitchen that opened up to the living space.

“No, it’s okay,” he called back over his shoulder.

I set my mug on the dark granite island and looked around. Standing in the quiet kitchen, the reality of the situation hit me. I was alone in the mountains with a man who could turn my legs to rubber with a single look.