8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Anna

E scorted to the edge of town as if this is some sort of prison transport, the last Sentry SUV finally pulls away from our tail. Toby and I reach the base of the mountain, where the cabin is located deep in the forest, with only a few minor problems along the way. It's several winding roads later that we finally pull into the driveway.

It's still difficult to maneuver, mostly hidden by brush and barren foliage, but in a better state than the last time I was here. Which was during its purchase. The driveway curves and steeps, forcing me to slow the vehicle or risk missing the trail in the blanket of fresh snow.

I'm so focused on the road with a death grip on the wheel that it takes Toby grumbling from the passenger seat to capture my attention and a gasp escapes me.

"Holy crap," I mutter, as the car rolls to a stop in the front yard of a nearly restored log cabin.

Smoke plumes from the chimney, and a cozy glow radiates from the large front windows, the cabin framed by a blanket of snow like a scene straight out of a romantic comedy or the front of a small-town greeting card.

"Can you at least say shit ?" Toby scoffs, his large frame bowed forward in the seat, his sight on the building in front of us. "This place is worth more than a crap ."

Rolling my eyes, I park the car. "It's a massive step up from the last time I saw it. Hopefully, the inside is just as good."

"It is," Toby mutters, opening the door and filling the cabin with chilled air. A lit cigarette hangs between his lips before he completely exits. His leather jacket draped over his shoulders despite the freezing cold.

I, on the other hand, am quick to snag and burrow into a puffy coat I had stored in the back seat, with a fur lined hood. I pocket the keys, double check my sanitizer bottle, and grab my travel mug of hot cocoa before slamming the door and wading through Toby's footsteps in the snow.

The crisp white layer only disturbed by his tracks seem to be a few inches in depth, but the width of his strides have me nearly jumping to reach the next crater created by his foot.

Better this than snow in the shoe.

He's already at the door, punching a code into the lock and stomping his boots out on the mat that I'm fairly certain is covered in a floral pattern when I reach the porch.

Not at all what I would expect from Leo.

"Whoa, hey," I say as I grab his elbow. He pauses in the threshold, his lit cigarette now pinched between his fingers, and wings a brow in my direction. "No smoking inside."

Grumbling, he rolls his eyes. "Why the hell not?" He puts the stick to his lips and takes a deep drag, the smoke blowing from his nose. "We own it."

I scoff and shake my head. " We is not on the deed to the house, I can guarantee that." I snatch the cigarette from his fingers and flick it into the snow.

With one challenging look, including a raised brow and pursed lips, I push past the man and enter the house before I freeze to death arguing over cigarettes.

"So damn plain."

I choose to ignore his mumbled words as I set my mug on the counter because I'm not here to impress Toby Jeffers. In fact, the less he likes me, the better.

Instead, I focus on the expansive layout in front of me. The open concept kitchen leads to a living space that is encompassed by floor-to-ceiling windows, tall enough to stretch up past the second story and touch the apex of the roof.

A one-hundred-and-eighty degree unencumbered view of the forested mountains lay out in front of me like a painted portrait.

"This was definitely not here last time."

Somehow, I've edged closer without realizing it, until my nose is nearly pressed against the glass.

It's gorgeous. Breathtaking.

But it's not for me.

"It was there all along." Toby's deep timbre startles me with its closeness, and I turn to see him admiring the view, an amber-filled decanter lifted to his lips. "Just needed the elevation."

"Right." Broken from the spell of a beautiful view and reminded all over again why I'm here, I stalk across the tiled floor. My short heels tap with each step back to the kitchen that smells of fresh citrus cleaner. My luggage is already there by the door, alongside the duffel Toby packed.

That's … odd.

"Did you …?"

"So you wouldn't break your neck in those fucking heels and have Leo blame me for your murder? Yes." Toby speaks to the window, raising his glass to his lips.

"Thanks, I guess."

Brushing off the weird feeling his words stir in the air between us, I snag the wheeled case and turn down the short hallway to my right. I pass open bifold doors holding laundry equipment that looks like it might be original to the cabin I remember, and I sigh.

Of course the man wouldn't care to remodel the laundry. No way my poor delicates can go in there.

I continue down the short path to the only archway left to explore in this portion of the house.

"Where's …" I trail off the spoken thought about any other rooms in the house, entering the primary suite with a lift in my hopes. "Wow."

Another wall of windows just as tall as the living space opens the room up to the setting sunlight that bathes it in a pleasant glow.

But that's not what has me rushing forward.

This time, it's a massive four-poster bed that resembles a cloud in all its blindingly crisp white linens and intricate frame.

It beckons me. Calls to me.

I bypass running my hands over the wooden encasement to see if it's actually carved and allow myself to fall face-first into its softness.

"Oh, God," I mutter into the comforter, my words muffled by the fluff settling in around me like a cool embrace.

It's so peaceful.

Exhaustion, heavy and damning, weighs down on me and threatens to steal my consciousness with each moment that I lie here.

So I push myself up to sit and pull my case onto the mattress beside me.

It's a stake. A claim for the room lest my new roommate thinks this space is fair game. There's no way he's getting this luxury when he's the sole reason we're stuck in this damn cabin.

Speaking of … Tobias Jeffers has been too quiet.

I slip out of my heels and leave them neatly by the bed. My curiosity pulls me across the plush rug in the direction I had just come from, distracting me from my quest to save the bassist from himself. Toby duty can wait . Three doors stare at me, two set into the wooden wall at the front and another to my left.

Which door?

I settle on the one closest to the entryway I came through and push open the solid panel to reveal a bathroom equipped for a queen. There's a tub the size of a pool, a dual vanity setup, and a small closet with a shelf running around the room just below hip height.

Impressive.

I promise myself a more thorough exploration later and move back into the suite to open the next door. Inside, a closet as large as my entire apartment greets me, complete with an excessive number of fancy lights and built-in mirrors that likely double as storage. Shaking my head, I close the door and turn to the next. This one, a frosted glass door typical of those leading to back patios, hints at the outdoors.

Cold air rushes in when I pull the door open, and I gasp at the sudden chill when I step out onto the porch. Another picturesque view is trapped between the roof and the railing. I pull out my phone to capture the moment.

Maybe this won't be so bad.

Soft strumming draws me back to the freezing porch. The sounds mingle with the hum of a motor, drawing my gaze from the snow-capped peaks to a cloud of steam in the porch's far corner. As I approach, the smell of chlorine hits me, and the air grows noticeably warmer. Of course, Leo installed a hot tub.

The smile I felt pulling up drops when I notice Toby perched on the edge, his feet dangling in the water, his old acoustic in lap.

"Good to see you've made yourself at home, Jeffers." I roll my eyes as I turn back toward the open door.

"Still not pretty enough, huh, Ms. Prune?" Toby retorts, drawing an audible huff from me.

"If you're going to insult me, can it at least make sense?"

He snorts, fiddling over the strings. The melody sounds familiar but unidentifiable, as I step into the toasty cabin and shut the man outside.

Maybe he'll freeze to death and solve all of my problems.

But then, that would be a lot to explain to not just the local authorities, but my boss as well. Then the media.

"Crap," I mutter, rolling my eyes as I head to my suitcase in search of something warmer to wear.