“More snow is coming. We have enough food to stay here. After all, there’s no decoration at the house.”
“There’s a wreath.” She leaned toward me. “I’ll be snowed in with you wherever you want.” Her eyes opened wider. “Mrs. Mayhand prepared us a holiday dinner with a turkey breast and delicious sides.”
The food I’d brought paled in comparison. “Once we’re home, if you want to go for a hike or ride, I volunteer to be your tour guide.”
She bounced on the toes of her boots as we went back to the cabin. “I accept and I want to ride the snowmobile. Can I drive?”
I shook my head. “That’s a first that can wait.”
After dressing, eating the muffins I’d bought at my favorite bakery in Bayfield, and drinking some fresh coffee, Julia and I took the time to strip the bed and make it with fresh sheets. She took the dirty ones out to the truck. We’d wash them at home, and I’d bring them back here. We collected all of our food. The reason I kept soup out here was because in the cans it didn’t attract animals or bugs.
There weren’t bugs in the winter, but there were animals. Black bears weren’t as common as they used to be in these parts and currently, they’d be hibernating. Nevertheless, I didn’t want any other mammal to smell food and make himself at home.
After I poured water over the remaining hot coals, I took Julia’s hand before going out to the truck. The tree was still standing in the corner covered in decorations.
“Should we undecorate and take it outside?” she asked.
Common sense told me that we should. The small fraction of a romantic in me considered coming back for the New Year. Maybe by then I’d have a ring to present to my fiancée. I took a deep breath. “I say we leave it for now.”
Julia nodded. “We can come back here anytime. This place holds wonderful memories.”
It was completely new for me to think of memories with a smile.
New memories...those were what I wanted with Julia.
As we drove away from the cabin, and toward the house, my mind was filled with places where I could lead Julia on my land and on the trails beyond. Each vista and outlook came to my thoughts, wanting the perfect place for the perfect woman.
With my mind in an unusually positive place, I didn’t notice the tire tracks until we came to the driveway before the house. I stopped the truck before driving onto the cement.
Fuck. I should have closed the gate near the main road. “Someone has been here.”
Julia sat forward. “Mrs. Mayhand?”
“She wouldn’t come on Christmas.”
Julia’s gaze widened. “Her son-in-law?”
“I’ll park the truck. Before we go inside, let me check the security.” I pushed the button, opening one of the garage doors.
“Could whoever it is be inside?” Julia asked.
“No. No one could get inside without tripping the security,” I said, hoping I was right. My pulse sped up as I pulled my phone from the cupholder. I’d turned it off to save the battery, since I’d left it in the truck. I hit the power button.
The screen came to life.
I hit the security icon and let out a breath. “No one is inside.”
“What if it was my parents?”
“If it was, they found us gone.”
Julia’s smile dimmed. “I don’t want to go back with them.”
“You’re an adult. You don’t have to go anyplace you don’t want to.”
She reached for my hand. “I see that now…you helped me see it.”
“Let’s go.” While I was confident that the house was safe, I wasn’t sure who had been here, making their way onto my private property all the way to my home.
My phone vibrated in my hand with numerous notifications—text messages and emails. I shook my head. Most were from my legal team and a few missed calls from Connie, my assistant, beginning yesterday afternoon.
Whatever the fuck was going down was looking for me.
I needed to face it.
Donovan Sherman didn’t hide or back away.
Once we were inside and had our coats hung in the front closet, I laid a kiss on Julia’s head. “I have messages to return.”
Her eyes narrowed. “My phone is upstairs. If your messages are about Wade or my family, will you tell me?”
“I’ll never lie.”
Julia nodded. “I’ll go shower and change clothes.”
My eyes stayed fixed on her as she walked away, up the staircase and toward the south wing.
There was more to what I’d said. I wouldn’t lie; however, some things will never be said.
I headed toward my office as I hit the button to call Connie. She answered right away.
“This is Christmas,” I said. “You’re supposed to be celebrating.”
“Mr. Sherman” —her concern filled tone held my attention— “it’s about Phillip.” When I failed to reply, she clarified, “Phillip Thomas.”
I closed the door to my office as heat began to build beneath the layers of my clothing. Gritting my teeth, I asked, “What about him?”
“He saw the announcement of your impending engagement.”
Running my free hand over my hair, I gripped the phone tighter. “I don’t care what my brother reads—”
“I didn’t want to bother you with this...yesterday or today...but he was upset, demanding to speak to you. He sounded...off. I explained that you were unreachable.”
“We haven’t spoken in a decade.”
“He said if he isn’t able to speak to you about his issue with you marrying, he’ll speak to your new fiancée.”
Over my dead body.
“Did you give him either of our private numbers?” I asked.
“No. I wouldn’t do that. I wanted you to know what he said.”
Now I knew.
Despite the irritation Connie’s information rekindled, the saying don’t shoot the messenger came to mind. Taking a deep breath, I replied, “Thank you, Connie. Let me know if he calls again.”
“I will. And sir, Mr. Fields has been trying to reach you.”
“Thank you. I’ll call him next. And...” —there was no doubt that Julia’s goodness was affecting me— “have a good holiday.”
“Thank you,” she said with the sound of relief. “You too, Mr. Sherman.”
As I disconnected the call, I realigned my thoughts. If a confrontation with Phillip occurred, it wouldn’t end over my dead body.
It would end over his.
Julia
Turning on my phone, I kicked off my boots, wiggling my sock-covered toes in the soft, warm rug near my bed. Much as Van’s phone had done, my phone vibrated and dinged with numerous incoming text messages and voicemails.
I pulled my sweater over my head and pulled off the blue jeans, leaving me covered in my camisole and soft pants as I picked up my phone, sat upon the edge of the bed, and sighed. Lying back, I hit the first voicemail message from my mother. The time stamp was yesterday afternoon.
“Julia, not returning our messages is childish. How can we be comfortable with your decisions when you’re not replying?”