Rm w/a Vu(128)

I sling my carry-on bag over my shoulder while Greyston carries both of our suitcases, and then he nods me toward the snowy path that leads to the front deck. The snow crunches beneath our feet as we approach the stairs. He sets his suitcase down and grabs the key from his pocket to unlock the door.

If the outside of the cabin impressed me, it really shouldn’t come as a surprise when I am rendered breathless upon stepping inside. I drop my bag suddenly, stepping farther into the room and looking around. The main construct of the building remains intact, with large solid wood beams supporting the upper floor, and a staircase to my left that leads upstairs, where I assume the bedrooms are located.

The main floor is completely open-concept, with the living room off to the right, well-lit by the two front windows that sit on either side of a large fireplace. The furniture is modern and plush, and I can tell that Greyston’s mother has decorated it; she’s got a certain style that seems to have carried over into her work on Greyston’s place back in Phoenix as well. Just past the living room, beyond the couch and the table that sits behind it, is the kitchen and dining area. They are both awash in the light of the setting sun behind the house that streams in through the wall-to-wall windows there.

“Oh, wow. Greyston…” I begin to say, my voice soft and barely above a whisper.

The door closes softly behind me, and I hear the quiet click of the lock sliding into place before Greyston’s arms wind around my waist and his lips touch down on the exposed skin of my neck. “Welcome to Whistler, sweetheart.”





Chapter 29



“This is…” I try to find the words to describe how I feel, but anything I think of seems lacking. “Well, it’s incredible.”

With his lips moving up and down my neck, he chuckles, sending a shiver through my body as he removes his arms from my waist and picks our luggage back up. “Come,” he says. “Let me show you upstairs.”

I grab my carry-on again and follow him up the stairs, my eyes still taking in the simplistic beauty of his home-away-from-home. Upstairs is no different: everything about the house structurally remains original with its visible wood beams supporting the roof and the older wooden window casings. There are two bedrooms toward the back of the house, a large bathroom along the north wall, and a third, slightly larger bedroom along the entire east wall. Upon further investigation, I can tell that the bathroom has been remodeled with a more modern vanity and tub, and the bedrooms have this cozy feel to all of them, made even more inviting by the large beds and thick, fluffy duvets.

Naturally, I assume the larger room is Greyston’s parents’, so when I begin to exit it with my bag, he stops me. “Where are you going?”

“Across the hall?” I reply questioningly.

“This is our room,” he tells me, setting our bags down at the foot of the bed. “My parents let me have first pick when I was a kid, and naturally, I wanted the biggest room in the house,” he explains, lifting his bag onto the bed and opening it to unpack. “Since they had the master suite back home, and we really only stayed here a few weeks a year, they let me keep it.”

Greyston and I work on unpacking our bags quickly before retrieving the groceries from the already chilly SUV and putting them away. By the time everything is done, the sky has darkened a little more, and my stomach is growling. Smiling, Greyston hands me the telephone and leads me back to the living room.

“Why don’t you call your parents, let them know we made it to the cabin, and I’ll start on dinner?” he suggests, motioning for me to sit on the couch while he starts a fire in the fireplace and then lights a few candles on the coffee table in front of me. When he shoots me one of his sexy smirks, pairing it with an equally panty-wetting wink, I know he’s got his own agenda for tonight.

After he’s finished, he leans down and kisses me softly. “I’ll bring you a glass of wine and then start on dinner. You just sit back and relax.”

Greyston leaves me alone in the living room, the smell and crackle of the fire relaxing me even more than I already was, and I dial my parents’ number. It rings twice before Dad answers.

“Hey, Dad,” I say happily. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, kiddo. How was your flight?”

I pause for a quick second, thinking about just how “good” the flight really was, and I smile. “It was great. Over before we knew it.”

“And the drive to the cabin?” he asks, sounding excited to hear about my trip. “Greyston drove safely, I gather?”

Once a cop, always a cop. I laugh. “Yes, Daddy. We drove very carefully.”