The Gamble (Colorado Mountain #1)(8)

“You can drop your arms.”

“Okay.”

I dropped my arms and then I slid them around what felt like a man’s waist. Then I cuddled closer. It felt like arms came around my waist too and it also felt like a hand was trailing gently up and down my back.

“You’re sweet when you’re sick.”

“I am?”

“Hellion when you’re riled.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm.”

Then he muttered, “Not sure which I like more.”

I had no reply, mainly because I’d fallen back to sleep.

Chapter Two

Human Again

I woke up to crazy brightness and after a couple of seconds remembered where I was.

The A-Frame.

And Max.

“Oh my God,” I muttered to the pillow as I opened my eyes and rolled to my back, memories flooding my foggy brain.

I couldn’t be certain I remembered every second but I remembered enough to be mortified. Mortified more than I’d ever been mortified in my whole, entire life.

I had to get out of there. Immediately.

I threw the covers back, tossed my legs over the side of the bed and stood. I had to give myself a moment to adjust so I did. I was lightheaded and my nose was a bit stuffed up but other than that I felt human again.

Human enough to escape.

I walked to the railing and looked downstairs, left then right. Max wasn’t in the kitchen or living room.

I looked out the windows and saw the snow and pine trees, white and green jagged mountaintops breaking the blue sky, breathtaking landscape, a fabulous view as far as the eye could see.

I also saw that the drive had been cleared of snow including a large, level area at the front of the house. The one track lane that led to the road was also cleared as was the road leading away. My rental car was sitting in front of the house shining in the sun, so bright, it was eye watering. It looked like it’d never been touched by snow.

There was no Cherokee.

“Max?” I called, my voice sounded untried, weak. I cleared my throat and called louder, “Max?”

Nothing.

Thank God. He was gone.

Then knowing I should get a move on, I just stood there, all I needed to do crashing in and pressing down on me. I didn’t know what to do first.

I’d always had the terrible habit of looking at any problem, no matter how big, as a whole problem. Charlie was always telling me to break it down, make the big problem into smaller problems, take it one step at a time.

I looked at the bed and my suitcase.

Shower. Shower first, get dressed, get some food in me, a quick snack, energy. Water, I needed to rehydrate. And coffee. I needed caffeine. Then write a note of thanks to Max, pack up my car and get out of there, drive down the mountain and spend two weeks in Denver.

I’d never really been to Denver just the airport and a grocery store but it seemed like a lovely place. And people lived in Denver, there had to be things to do. Cinemas. Shopping. Museums. I could find stuff to do in Denver. Maybe I could find me in Denver. Maybe I could figure out my life in Denver.

Denver it was.

I went to my bag and pulled out things I needed, went to the bathroom, dumped them there then back to the suitcase for clothes.

Then I caught sight of the bed and got side-tracked when I decided that I should probably change the sheets on the bed. No one wanted to sleep in a bed after a sick person had been there. Max might have been a jerk when I first met him but he’d been not a jerk when I’d been sick. He deserved clean sheets.

So I pulled off the big, fluffy, chocolate brown covered down duvet and yanked the sheets off the bed, throwing them into a pile at the foot. The internet advertisement of the A-Frame said it had a washer and drier. I’d put the sheets in the wash after my shower and tell Max in the note where to find his sheets so he wouldn’t think I made off with them. Not that he’d think I’d steal his sheets but who knew. People did all sorts of weird stuff at a rental.

I went to the bathroom and halted in front of the mirror when I caught a look at myself.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

My face was pale, there were purple-blue shadows under my eyes but it was my hair that caught my attention. My hair was a disaster.

I hadn’t lucked out much in life but one thing I had lucked out with was my hair. I had a lot of it, it was thick and it looked good practically anytime day or night, even just waking up or when I hadn’t washed it a couple of days. I’d had a few unfortunate perms when I was younger but usually it looked great no matter what length or what cut or, being honest, what color. Currently it was highlighted a light blonde, the streaks of blonde liberal through my naturally somewhat mousy brown hair and I’d let it grow kind of long.

Now, it was dank, partially matted and frightening.

I pushed aside the frightening vision of me, brushed my teeth, washed my face and jumped into the shower. This was taking a lot out of me. I’d just battled a serious fever and I hadn’t had food in who knew how long. I should probably rest, definitely take a second out to eat a banana or something but I had no idea where Max was. I was hoping he was at work. That would give me plenty of time to do what I had to do and escape.

I got out of the shower, lotioned my body, perfumed, pulled a comb through my hair glorying in the feeling of being clean. I decided that showers worked wonders. They were mini-miracles. Especially Max’s shower which was separate from the bath, tiled in beautiful taupe and brown veined marble and big enough for two.