He set her bags on the sofa and reached over to turn on a lamp. The switch clicked, but nothing happened. He walked to the other side of the sofa and tried another lamp. Nothing. “Hmmm, we may have a problem here.”
She turned, her face open and relaxed as she drifted out of the dreamy state the view created. “What?”
“Power.” He strode down the hallway to the master bedroom and tried that light. Then the bathroom light. “Shit.”
When he turned, he found her standing in the doorway, hand on the doorjamb. “Nothing?”
“Nope. Must be the storm. I’ll call PG&E from the main house.”
She squished up her face in an unhappy look, but then shrugged and turned down the hall. “Let me know what they say.”
“You can stay here if you want, but I can guarantee you’re going to freeze your tail off.” When she frown
ed over her shoulder, he put up both hands in surrender. “Just sayin’. No hot water, no heat, no lights. I’ll build you a fire, but it won’t be enough to keep you comfortable when the temp drops to three degrees tonight.”
“No hot water?”
“No pilot light means no gas flame, which means no hot water. Just come up to the house until I figure this out. You can shower and get warm there. Then, if you really feel like you can’t stand being within five thousand square feet of me, you can always escape to this ice cube. I’ll just come chip you out in the morning.”
She glanced at her bags and shifted on her feet. “Fine. I’m too tired to argue with you anymore.”
He swung her duffle over his shoulder and started for the door. “Hallelujah.”
They were both covered in another layer of snow by the time they entered the main house through the back door. Noah tossed his keys on the kitchen island as he walked in, then stopped, planted his hands on his hips, and gave a deep sigh at the chaos that greeted him. He was too tired to clean up the mess. Too tired to argue with Julia to get her to clean it up. So he glanced at the large manila envelope sitting on the island.
A Post-it note stuck on the front read:
McMillan’s office dropped off your latest test results with me.
Have Julia go over them with you.
— D.
“I would have straightened it up when I was done,” Julia said.
When he glanced back at her, she was frowning at the clutter. Noah shook his head. “Just stay out of this room, food fascist. Come on, I’ll show you the guest suite—waaaaaaay on the other side of the house from mine. Even on a different floor. Couldn’t get farther away from me if you tried.”
Down the hall, he stepped into the bedroom and moved aside so Julia could follow. It was big, with a four-poster bed, dresser, nightstands, and one puffy chair and ottoman facing the view, which was now covered by insulated curtains.
He tossed her bags on the bed and pulled the drapes back, exposing a huge, arched window framing the same stunning view shared by the guesthouse and his own bedroom.
Julia’s soft inhale made Noah smile as he looked out at the lake. No matter how often he saw it, the sight filled him with the same sense of peace he’d known the very first time his eyes had swept over the landscape.
“You’re not in San Francisco anymore, Dorothy,” he said, pulling the line from the Wizard of Oz.
Her mouth turned up. “That’s just…” she started, her voice filled with awe. “I have no words.”
“And here I didn’t believe in miracles.”
She rolled her eyes toward him. “Ha.”
“Bathroom is right through there,” he said, pointing to a wall behind her where an opening held a double marble vanity. “Shower and tub to the right, closet to the left. Everything you might need is in here somewhere.” He picked up a remote from a nightstand, pointed it at the whitewashed paneling on the wall across from the bed, and pressed a button. The paneling slid open to expose a giant-screen TV. “Entertainment.”
“Quite the bachelor pad.” She crossed her arms and faced him. “How about a home gym?”
“Sure. Opposite the theater off the kitchen.”
“Great.” She sat on the edge of the bed, unzipped her duffle, and pulled out a pair of running shoes. “Treadmill?”