Chapter 1: Gabrielle

Chapter 1 – Gabrielle

“You must be Gabrielle Hunter.”

I turn to the source of that deep voice and find a stranger standing a few feet away from me. He’s dressed in well-worn blue jeans, scuffed boots, and a blue-plaid shirt. Perched on his head is a tattered old cowboy hat, clearly meant for function, not fashion. It’s a bit worse for wear, like the rest of him. I’d guess him to be in his late thirties or early forties, maybe ten years older than me. It’s hard to tell because the brim of his hat shades a lot of his face.

I nod. “Yes, I’m Gabrielle,” I say hesitantly, very much aware that I’m talking to a complete stranger. I’m from the city. I don’t talk to strangers. Especially men. “And you are?”

He tips the brim of his hat. “I’m your ride to McIntyre Lodge. Hannah sent me to fetch you.”

Hannah McIntyre. Inwardly, I’m relieved. Hannah’s the reason I flew a thousand miles from Chicago to Denver. She’s my new boss.

I’m standing in the baggage claim section of Denver International Airport, waiting for the luggage from my flight to magically appear on the carousel. I was expecting someone to pick me up and drive me out to the lodge, so this cowboy’s appearance doesn’t come as a complete surprise. “Wait. How did you know it was me?”

He shrugs. “Easy. Hannah told me to look for the prettiest redhead at the airport.”

I smile. “Good guess.” I glance around the crowded baggage claim area. “I’m also the only redhead.”

He doesn’t seem fazed. “Still, the description fits.” He studies me a moment. “Name’s Burke.” He offers me his hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Ma’am? I refrain from laughing as I take his hand, and we shake. His grip is firm, but not too firm. His hand is dry and pleasantly warm. He holds my hand for all of two seconds, then releases it quickly.

At that moment, the carousel starts up, making a loud whirring sound as it begins to turn. Luggage finally starts to appear through an opening in the wall, and my fellow passengers crowd around to collect their suitcases. Mine is easy enough to spot—it’s bright orange in a field of black.

I shuffle slowly into the crowd, but it’s a bit of a challenge as I’m already loaded down with my backpack, purse, and wheeled carry-on. I finally make it to the front of the pack, but I miss my chance to grab my suitcase the first time it appears and have to wait for it to come back around. When it finally does reappear, I reach for the handle, but a hand snakes in from beside me and grabs it, pulling it off the conveyor belt and setting it on the ground beside me.

“Just the one bag?” the cowboy asks. He sounds surprised.

“Yes. I traveled light.”

“I can see that.” He extends the long handle of my suitcase and starts wheeling it toward the exit. “This way, ma’am.”

Hearing him call me ma’am makes me cringe. “Call me Gabrielle, please. Being referred to as ma’am makes me feel old.”

He chuckles. “All right, then. Gabrielle.”

I follow him, pulling my carry-on behind me. I notice he walks with a slight limp. His left leg seems a bit stiff. “I take it you work at the lodge.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shoots me a wry look. “Sorry. Gabrielle. I guess old habits die hard. Yeah, I work at the lodge. I manage the horses and take guests out on trail rides.”

Wow, he really is a cowboy.

“You ride?” he asks.

“Afraid not. I was born and raised in the city.”

“Chicago, right? That’s where Hannah and Killian are from.”

“Yes.”

“I understand you’re a chef at some fancy restaurant.”

“I was a sous-chef at Renaldo’s. It’s a five-star Italian restaurant—but don’t worry. I can cook any cuisine you want.”

“Sounds fancy. Why’d you leave?”

“It’s always been my dream to manage my own restaurant. But I was pretty far down on the seniority list at Renaldo’s. It would have taken me years to rise in the ranks. When Hannah offered me an opportunity to run my own kitchen, I couldn’t resist.”

Burke nods. “It’ll be nice havin’ a real chef in the kitchen. Two ladies from town have been helping out with meals since the lodge opened, and they do a decent enough job. I’m not complainin’, mind you. Beggars can’t be choosers, right? But everyone’s gettin’ pretty sick of canned soup and cold sandwiches. It’ll be real nice to have some hot food for a change.”

I laugh. “I think I can help with that.”

“Sure hope so,” he mutters. “We don’t need anything fancy—just hot. And maybe something homemade. I reckon the guests will sure like an upgrade.”

He comes to a stop beside a battered red pick-up truck and sets my suitcase in the back bed. Then he takes my carry-on from me and sets it in the truck bed as well. He points to my backpack. “Want me to stow that for you?”

“Sure.” I hand him my backpack, and he tucks it between my other two cases. Then he secures everything in place with a couple of bungee cords.

“This way,” he says as he walks around to the front passenger door. He unlocks it and opens it for me. “Up you go. Need a hand?”

“No, thanks. I can manage.” It’s a big truck, and I have to use the hand grip to haul myself up into the cab.

By the time I’ve got my seatbelt buckled, he’s already behind the wheel. He buckles his belt and starts the engine.

Burke grips the steering wheel with his right hand and backs the truck out of the parking spot. I find myself studying his hand. His skin is tan and weathered, and his knuckles are scarred, like he’s been in a few fights in his lifetime or punched some walls. He’s got a man’s hands—used to hard work. I’ll bet his fingers are calloused, the tips rough. At the thought, a tingle courses through me, and I mentally shake myself. “So, how far is it to the lodge?”

“An hour’s drive.”

“My understanding is they arrange wilderness adventures for guests. Like rock climbing and hiking and camping, things like that?”

He nods. “And horseback riding. That’s my job. I’m the stable master. I take care of the horses and take guests out on trail rides. The purpose of the excursions business is simply to fund the search and rescue efforts. That’s where Hannah and Killian’s passion really lies. Helping people.”

“Do you participate in rescues?”

“Sometimes. I’m no rock climber, but if we’re searching the wilderness for a missing person, I often lead a search team on horseback.” He glances over at me. “Search and rescue is a volunteer activity. The paying guests at the lodge fund the rescue operations.”

As we head west on the interstate, I study the landscape, watching as the city of Denver gradually turns into suburbs, and then the suburbs fall behind us to be replaced with open country. I can make out the Rocky Mountains in the distance, even this far away.

I’ve never seen mountains before—at least not in person. TV and movies don’t count. Right now they don’t seem as high as I expected, but I’m sure that’ll change as we get closer.

We ride in silence, which is fine with me. I check the time on my phone—it’s eight a.m., still early on a Friday morning. I’m tired from having gotten up at four to get to the airport in time for my flight. It’s been a long week, as I had a lot to do to prepare for this move—give away a lot of my stuff and donate the rest. I managed to downsize my entire life to fit into one 50-pound suitcase, a carry-on, and a backpack. Hannah told me they had a fully-furnished one-bedroom apartment all ready for me, so I decided not to bring much with me.

Everything I own is in the back of this truck.

As the miles pass, I find myself wondering if I made the right decision leaving my life behind and coming here to basically start over.

I found it much harder to leave Chicago than I expected. I had to say goodbye to some dear friends—Beth, Sam, Lia, and all the McIntyre Security employees I’d gotten to know over the past few years. I am, however, looking forward to making new friends. It helps that I already know two people here in Colorado—Hannah McIntyre and her business partner and boyfriend, Killian Devereaux.

The road is smooth, the truck is thrumming along like a well-maintained, if aged, dinosaur. My eyelids grow heavy. I guess everything is catching up with me. I lean my head back on the headrest and close my eyes, just for a minute.

* * *

“Gabrielle?”

A resonant male voice brings me wide awake, and I sit up abruptly.

“We’re here,” the cowboy says as he points to the right side of the road.

As I tidy my hair, I realize I actually dozed off. God, I hope I didn’t snore. I study the landscape surrounding us and see nothing but trees. “It’s all forest.”

“Right here, yeah, but the trees thin out the higher the elevation.” He slows the truck as we approach a big wooden sign that says McIntyre Wilderness Excursions. “This is it.” He turns right onto a two-lane gravel road. “It’s also the home of McIntyre Search and Rescue. One thousand and twenty acres of pristine wilderness.” He points straight ahead. “The lodge is a mile up this road.”

From what I can see, it looks like we’re in the middle of nowhere. My first thought is, where will I get supplies—kitchen appliances, food, produce, and fresh meat and seafood? You know, all the things one needs to run a restaurant. “It seems a little isolated.”

Burke chuckles. “That’s kinda the point. Folks come here from all over the world to get away from their day-to-day lives and have a bit of adventure. They like the isolation. But don’t worry, town’s just a few minutes away.”

I sneak a glance at Burke out of the corner of my eye. I noticed he drives one-handed, his right hand gripping the steering wheel firmly. His left hand rests on his thigh. There’s a light dusting of hair on the back of his hand, and a couple of tendons move and flex as he steers. He wears a frayed, braided leather band around his wrist. This is a man used to hard living, one who gets his hands dirty doing manual labor. For this city girl, that’s a whole lot of sexy.

From where I’m sitting, I can see only the right side of his face, but what I can see I like. He has a handsome profile, a straight nose, and a strong jawline covered by a neatly trimmed beard and mustache the color of dark chocolate. I imagine his hair is the same color, but it’s hard to tell with that cowboy hat perched on his head.

“Here we are,” he says as we come around a bend.

My eyes widen when I catch my first glimpse of the lodge. I’ve seen pictures of it on their website, but it’s far bigger in person than I imagined. “It’s huge!” The lodge is a sprawling log structure with a high peaked entrance in the middle and a wing on each side. It reminds me of a fortress.

“For decades, it was a private huntin’ club. Hannah and Killian bought it last year and have put a small fortune into updating the place.”

Speaking of Killian and Hannah, I spot them standing together at the entrance, their arms around each other’s waist. When Hannah waves eagerly, I return the gesture.

Hannah McIntyre and I know each other pretty well thanks to her frequent trips to Chicago to visit her close-knit family. Hannah’s oldest brother, Shane McIntyre, is married to my dear friend Beth. I know Killian Devereaux, too, from when he worked for Shane in Chicago.

Last year, when Hannah went missing during a hike in the Rockies, Shane sent Killian Deveraux out here to head up a search and rescue mission. Killian found her all right—in fact, he rescued her from poachers who were dealing illegally in bald eagle feathers. He’s been glued to her side ever since. It’s pretty darn romantic if you ask me. I wouldn’t mind being swept off my feet.

Burke pulls the truck up to the front of the entrance. As soon as the vehicle stops, Hannah and Killian walk out to greet us. When I jump down from my seat, Hannah throws her arms around me and gives me a bear hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, tightening her grip. “We’re so lucky to have you joining us.”

“Yeah,” Killian says as he walks up behind Hannah and lays his hands on her shoulders. “We’re starving.”

We all laugh, even Burke as he walks around to the back of the truck and reaches in for my luggage. “I’ll carry her things up to her apartment.”

“We just finished renovating the staff quarters,” Hannah tells me. “There are currently six furnished apartments in the lodge. You’ll be in number 3.”

“Thank you so much,” I say. “It’ll be really convenient to live so close to the restaurant.”

Hannah motions me toward the entrance. “Come. I’ll show you your apartment, and then I’ll give you the grand tour.”

The lodge entrance consists of a pair of massive, heavy double doors. They’re at least ten feet tall, made of glass panes framed by carved wooden panels depicting images of wolves, bears, and mountains.

Killian beats us to the doors and grasps a long brass handle to open one for us. We walk into a spacious lobby with a gift shop to the right, an impressive curved wooden staircase to the left that leads up to the second floor, and a check-in desk directly ahead. The interior walls are constructed of logs, and the ceiling high overhead is made up of exposed wooden beams. A large chandelier far overhead casts a warm light over the entire space.

“Here’s where the guests check in,” Hannah says as she points to the long wooden counter, where a dark-haired young woman and a young blond man are on duty. “That’s Tammy and Kevin—they’re in charge of guest relations. Tammy also helps out a lot in the restaurant. Guys, this is Gabrielle, our new kitchen manager.”

The two behind the counter smile and wave.

Hannah points to the hallway to our left. “The south wing houses the restaurant and the guest lounge on the ground floor. The staff apartments are directly upstairs.”

“It’ll take me a whole three minutes to get to work,” I say. “That sure beats my commute time in Chicago.”

Hannah points in the opposite direction. “The north wing houses the indoor recreation areas—the pool and sauna, a game room, and a snack room. We have eighty guest rooms on the first and second floors. Right now, we’re averaging about a twenty-five percent occupancy, but the rate is increasing steadily as word gets out.” She gestures to the staircase. “Come, I’ll take you up and show you your apartment. Then we’ll go see the restaurant. I can’t wait to hear your ideas on what renovations it needs.”

I follow Hannah up the staircase to the second floor. At the top of the stairs is a lounge featuring plenty of seating—brown leather sofas and chairs arranged in small groupings—as well as bookcases filled with books and board games. There’s one long table in the center of the lounge that seats eight. The focal point, though, is an impressive stone hearth at one end of the room, with a wet bar beside it.

“This is the staff lounge,” Hannah says. “We often hang out here as a group to play games or watch movies. There’s another lounge downstairs for the guests.”

“How many people are on staff?” I ask.

“Well, with you here now, that brings us to fifteen so far.”

We continue down the hallway. “We combined two guest rooms to make each apartment.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a key, which she hands to me. “Here we are.” She stops in front of a door marked with a big brass number 3. “It’s all yours.” She gestures for me to unlock the door.

I open the door to find a beautiful, modern space. The lights are on, illuminating a living room and kitchen. “It’s gorgeous.”

Hannah smiles. “I’m glad you like it. Sophie oversaw the remodeling and the design.”

I’ve met Hannah’s older sister, Sophie, before. She’s an interior decorator in Chicago. “Well, she definitely outdid herself.”

“It’s a pretty standard open floor plan,” Hannah says. “Living room and kitchen here, and down the hallway is the bedroom and bathroom. The apartment is part of your compensation package, as are the utilities and Internet, so there’s no charge.”

My gaze sweeps the room. “You’ve thought of everything.”

The living room looks comfortable and inviting, but it’s the kitchen that catches my eye. The stainless-steel appliances are top-notch, as are the cherry cabinets and granite countertops. I open a few cupboard doors to find them filled with stylish glassware and plates. I check out the silverware drawer, as well as the cookware neatly organized in a cabinet next to the oven. Almost everything I could possibly need is already here. “It’s perfect, Hannah.”

I say almost because my set of chef’s knives is one of my most prized possessions, and I made sure I brought mine with me from Chicago.

“Excuse me, Gabrielle,” Burke says from the open door. “Where would you like me to put these?”

I turn to see him standing just inside the apartment, my two suitcases in hand. My backpack is slung over his shoulder.

“You can set them down there.”

I notice his head is turned slightly to the left, shadowed by the brim of his cowboy hat. I realize I’ve never seen his full face. It’s like he keeps the left side in the shadows on purpose.

Burke sets my luggage on the floor. “All right then. I’ll leave you two ladies to it.” And then he’s gone.

I’m a bit stunned by his abrupt departure. “Crap. I didn’t get a chance to thank him for the ride or for bringing up my luggage.”

Hannah pats my back. “No worries. You’ll see him again soon. You can thank him then.”

I roll my big suitcase into the bedroom. Hannah follows with my carry-on and backpack.

The bedroom is just as impressive as the rest of the apartment. The focal point is a cherry four-poster bed with a matching dresser and two bedside tables. The walls are painted a soft gray, complementing the cream-colored comforter and pillows. “Remind me to call and thank Sophie,” I say.

After taking a few moments to freshen up in the bathroom, I join Hannah for a tour of the rest of the lodge. I’m dying to see the restaurant, of course, but I want to save that for last. We return to the ground floor and check out the pool and sauna, the game room, and the snack room.

“The kitchen is open for meals only during certain hours of the day,” Hannah says as we enter the snack room. “But guests are free to come in here any time they want for something to eat or drink.”

Refrigerated cases offer a variety of beverages—soft drinks, water, bottled teas, bottled cold coffees—as well as premade sandwiches, salads, yogurt, and desserts. There is also a single-serve coffeemaker, a kettle for tea, a microwave oven, and a display of chocolates and other candy.

When we return to the lobby, I happen to glance out the front doors and catch sight of Burke and Killian talking outside.

Killian says something to Burke, who nods. As Burke walks away, he takes off his hat and wipes his face on his sleeve.

I finally catch a glimpse of the left side of his face.

Oh, dear. What happened to you, Burke?