Here Comes Trouble Page 0,117
of all apocalyptic destruction if you let yourself fall the rest of the way…and he turns and walks away, her little voice prodded.
They took another turn, and she didn’t even have to think, or tighten her hold on him. They just relaxed into the turn, perfectly in sync. Which is exactly what they were. With each other. She supposed the remaining question she had was how did he think he’d be in sync with all the rest? Was he willing to walk away completely from all aspects of the only life he’d ever known? Not just the poker, he’d already walked from that. But the rest, too. Vegas was home to him. He had people he cared about there. Could his sudden interest in the wilds of Vermont…and a certain innkeeper…keep his attention long haul?
She had no doubt that he thought he was in it to win it, but could she trust that instinct? Trust him?
And then they were slowing down before reaching the next peak and turning up a dirt road.
“Hold on,” he shouted back. “It’s a bit rutted.”
Like she was going to go “look ma, no hands.” But hey, any excuse to snuggle up a little closer…she wasn’t on the fence about that part.
She winced a few times as they bounced in and out of ruts and went around and alongside a few more. She might have had her face buried behind his back for most of the last run up the hill, because she had to lift her head to peek when they finally rolled to a stop. She breathed a sigh of relief when they weren’t inches from a death drop or anything. In fact, they were still deeply in the trees. Then she looked past his shoulder in front of the bike and saw the clearing. And the house.
He turned off the bike and they both climbed off and removed their helmets. He saw she was looking at the house, not at him, and let her look before he said anything.
It was an old log cabin, and not the prepackaged type. This one looked like the logs had been hewn and set by hand. It was still in decent shape, and a decent size as well. Unique, too. There were two plank wood dormers, painted green it looked like—at one point anyway—set equal distance apart in the roof, and there were chimneys rising at both ends. She’d guess it was at least thirty or forty years old, possibly more. A beautifully crafted front porch had been added at some point. Kirby walked a few feet across the front of the lot and saw that there had been an addition put on the back, as well. Also hand-hewn logs, but the color and age were different. It looked either like a small lodge or a big home. Nature had taken the yard over some time ago as there were pines growing almost right up to the porch and no drive or walkway that was clearly determinable anymore.
Brett walked over and stood next to her. “Well, what do you think?”
“Old, still has good bones. If they’re not chewed up by termites anyway. Unique structure for a cabin. I like the porch. I’d say it hasn’t been lived in for a very long time, so who knows what’s on the inside.” She shifted her gaze up to him. “So…what’s the deal?”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “I bought it. This morning, actually.”
Which explained where he’d been all day, but…wow. “Um. Bought it?” She looked at the house again. “Just like that? Have you been inside?”
“I’ve tromped around it enough. And if it’s not salvageable, then I’ll put something else on the lot.”
“Okay,” Kirby said, because she wasn’t sure what else to say.
“I like the view, the location. Entrance road needs work, but the whole thing will be a huge project, so that’s not a huge obstacle. Mostly I got it for the house, though. I hope it’s sound.”
She half laughed, half snorted. “Me, too. Are you in the habit of just buying things on impulse without doing any research?” All her previous concerns about him rushed right back in. Maybe he was just a compulsive doer. She had no idea if he was as good at finishing what he started, however.
“No, actually. I just knew this was the right first step. I saw the dormer windows glinting in the sun, way down below, when I was out riding.”
“Yesterday, right? In one day,