And what was she doing in this isolated cabin?
Jackson’s gaze followed the stone chimney of the fireplace up, up and up until he reached the impressive cathedral ceiling. He took in the balcony and could only imagine what the second story must be like. Okay, this place was much more than a cabin. It was a luxury log home at the least and more like a mansion.
Was Mae staying here all by herself?
The place was much too big for just one person. Oh, and her dog. How could he forget Gizmo? She’d be lucky if the dog didn’t get lost in here.
He gave himself a mental shake to clear his thoughts. He had a lot more important things to worry about than this woman’s extravagance. He had to find a way to salvage his career—his stagnant career.
Ever since his wife passed away, his job was what got him up in the morning and helped him through the days. The nights were a different matter. He was left with nothing but memories of the only woman that he would ever love. When she’d died, he didn’t know how he’d go on. In the beginning, breathing had taken effort. His existence had been an hour-to-hour proposition. And then he’d progressed to day by day. That was when he’d sought refuge in his work—going above and beyond for a good story.
His work was the sole reason he was in Austria. It was the second Christmas since he’d lost his wife, and he couldn’t stay in New York City. He didn’t want to be invited to friends’ holiday celebrations. He didn’t want tickets to Christmas programs in theatres. He wanted to be alone, but no one seemed to understand.
He may not be able to totally escape the holiday, but at least in Austria it would be on his terms. Jackson took in the towering pine tree in front of the two-story windows. And when his gaze landed on the boxes of decorations, he realized that he’d been taken in by a Christmas zealot. He sighed. This was just his luck. The sooner he got out of there, the better.
Speaking of his beautiful hostess, where had she gone? He paused and listened. Nothing. Was she napping? If so, he couldn’t blame her. The afternoon had been horrific and stressful, not to mention the hike over mountainous terrain with him hanging on her shoulder. He’d tried not to lean on her too much, but at times, she was the only thing keeping him from falling face-first in the mounting snow.
He glanced to the spot where the dog had been lying on a blanket. Even he was gone. That was strange. He was just there a moment ago—right before Jackson had closed his eyes to rest them.
Jackson decided it was best that he go check on things. He saw his makeshift cane close by and grabbed it. His gaze moved to his bandaged ankle. He’d be lucky if it wasn’t broken, but he wasn’t going to think about that now.
With a firm grip on the cane, he lifted himself up on his good leg. What he wouldn’t give now for a set of crutches. He turned himself around, finding the cabin even larger than he’d originally imagined. This place could easily fit three or four families.
Just then Mae appeared with her arms full of clothes. “What are you doing up?”
“I was wondering where you’d slipped off to.”
“Well, when you fell asleep, I decided I should move my things out of the master suite to one of the upstairs rooms.”
“Upstairs? But why? I’ll be out of here in no time.”
Mae moved to an armchair and laid her clothes across the back of it. “About that, I don’t think either of us is going anywhere anytime soon.”
“What? But why?”
“The snow hasn’t stopped.”
He half hopped, half limped his way to the door and looked out. The sun was setting, not that it was visible with the snow clouds blanketing the sky. But evening was definitely settling in. And Mae was right. The snow, if anything, had gotten worse. There were several new inches out there since they’d arrived at the cabin.
“It doesn’t look good,” he grudgingly conceded.
“Don’t worry. I have plenty of food.”
She might be sure of that fact, but he wasn’t. It wasn’t like they were in a cabin in a highly populated ski resort. This place was miles from the closest village, and from what he could tell, there were no neighbors close by.
He settled on the edge of the couch. “Um, thanks.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. “But I don’t want to put you out. I can take the room upstairs.”
From across the room, she sent him an I-don’t-believe-you look. “On that leg? I don’t think so.” She started to pick up the clothes again. “I have dinner under control.”
Come to think of it, he was hungry. Jackson sniffed the air, but he didn’t smell anything. “What is it?”
“I hope chili will do.”
Chili sounded good on such a cold evening. “Sounds great. Do you need help in the kitchen?”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing to do but open a couple of cans and warm them up.”
Open cans? Was she serious? He did his best to eat healthy. When your career involved standing before the cameras—cameras that picked up every shadow and wrinkle—you learned to drink lots of water and avoid food out of a can.