The Last Letter(15)

“Is that…a dog?” an older woman asked, her tone soft but incredulous.

“Yes, ma’am.” The woman seemed to be the same age as Larry, and by the look of her, had to be Ada. I had the weirdest feeling of stepping into a reality show that I’d only ever watched. I knew who each of them were from Ella’s letters, but to them I was a complete stranger.

“Well, we don’t have dogs here.” Her gaze locked onto Havoc like she might immediately grow fleas and infest the place.

Shit. If Havoc went, so did I.

“She goes where I go.” My standard answer flew out of my mouth before I censored myself.

Ada gave me a look I’m sure must have sent Ella running when she was younger. I gritted my teeth and tried again.

“I wasn’t aware of that policy when I made the reservation. My apologies.”

“He’s paid up through November!” Hailey said from behind the desk.

“November?” Ada’s mouth dropped open.

“Don’t worry, love.” Larry walked over to his wife and put his arm around her waist. “She’s a military working dog. She’s not going to ruin the carpet or anything.”

“Retired,” I corrected him as Havoc sat perfectly still, reading the atmosphere.

“Why was she retired? Is she aggressive? We have small children here, and we can’t have anyone bitten.” Ada wrung her hands—actually twisted them. It was plain to see her conflict. I was paid through seven months, most of which were in their off-season. I was guaranteed income.

“She retired because I did, and she wouldn’t listen to anyone else.” I’d been her handler for six years and couldn’t imagine my life without her, so it worked out. “She’ll only bite on my command or in my defense. She’s never peed on the carpet or attacked a child. That I can promise you.”

She wasn’t the child-killer in the room.

I was.

“She’ll be fine, Ada.” Larry whispered something into her ear that made her peer a little closer, wrinkling the fine skin of her forehead. Then they had a wordless conversation full of raised eyebrows and head nods.

“Okay, fine. But you’re on your own for feeding her. Hailey, put him in the Aspen cabin. That one is due for new carpet next year anyway. Welcome to Solitude, Mr.…”

“Gentry,” I supplied with a slight nod, remembering to force a quick smile that I hoped didn’t look like a grimace. “Beckett Gentry.”

“Well, Mr. Gentry. Breakfast is served between seven a.m. and nine a.m. Dinner can be arranged, but you’re on your own for lunch, and so is…”

“Havoc.”

“Havoc,” she said, her face softening when Havoc tilted her head at the mention of her name. “Well, okay then. Larry, why don’t you show him to his cabin?”

Larry whistled as we walked out. “That was a close one.”

“Seemed like it,” I agreed, opening the truck door. Havoc leaped inside in a single, smooth motion.

“Wow. She’s got some jump in her.”

“You should see her take a wall. She’s incredible.”

“A Lab, huh? I thought all those dogs were shepherds and stuff. A Lab seems too soft for that kind of work.”

“Oh, trust me, her bite is way sharper than her bark.”

A few minutes later, I drove the truck along the tight, paved road that wove through most of the property. The Aspen cabin was on the western side, near the edge of a small lake. Havoc would be in heaven. Having studied the area, I knew there were acres between the cabins, the property designed to give visitors what the place was named for—solitude.

Havoc and I climbed up the front porch steps, and I turned the key in the lock. No electronic cards here. It fit with the cabins, the mountains, the seclusion. Larry waved to me from his Jeep as the door swung open, and then he pulled away, leaving us to explore our temporary home.

“This is not a cabin,” I told my girl as I stepped into a small foyer complete with hardwood floors and one of those bench things where shoes were kept in baskets. To the left was a mudroom that was no doubt the hub of ski season, and on the right, a half bathroom.

The walls were painted in the same soft hues as the foyer of the main building, the floors dark and welcoming, the rugs clean and modern. The kitchen appeared on the right as I walked farther inside, a welcoming combination of light cabinets, dark granite, stainless-steel appliances.

“At least we can cook,” I told Havoc as I glanced over at the dining area that sat eight.

Then I looked past the kitchen to the living room and my jaw dropped.

The living room was vaulted to the second story in a classic A-frame and ran the width of the cabin. Floor-to-ceiling windows brought in the afternoon light as it filtered through the trees and reflected on the lake. The mountains rose above, the snow marking the tree line at the peaks.

If I’d ever imagined somewhere I could make a home, this might have been it.

I’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Knock, knock!” a sweet, feminine voice called out from the front door. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” I called, walking to the center of the cabin where the hallway led straight to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shutting the door and coming into view.