Cabin of Axes - Bea Paige Page 0,3

picks me up,” I say, with a smile.

“Well, sure.” Cassidy frowns but doesn’t press further. “It’ll be here in like two minutes.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. You know you play a rather good fairy godmother, taking care of me like this.”

“Cheers, it’s not such a bad role after all. It was nice to meet you. Have fun at the Cabin of Axes,” she says with a wink, striding off before I can deny that’s exactly where I’m going to ask the cabbie to take me. I open my mouth to thank her but outside a car pulls up, honking its horn.

I guess that’s my ride.

Chapter Two

“A storm’s heading in. You sure you want to be caught out here?” the cabbie asks, glancing at me in the rear view mirror. His thick, bushy eyebrows draw together in a frown as he speaks. We’re driving up a winding private road with a forest on either side that seems to thicken with trees the further we pass through it.

“A storm?” I ask, ignoring his question. I’m not sure I want to be caught anywhere. I’m also not sure that I’m completely sane or have use of all my faculties given what I’m currently doing. I don’t know who the fuck I am, but what I do know is that I have to be here despite all of that.

“Yes. Hurricane Lisa. She's set to head in tonight, and leave as a depression, dropping a month's worth of rain in a few days. Haven’t you been watching the news?”

“No,” I answer abruptly, peering out of the window at the huge conifer trees that line the road. It’s windy, sure, but none of them seem to be bowing under the strength of it. Cassidy never mentioned the storm. Then again, she’s barely passed her teenage years, it’s not something I imagine she’s interested in or even considered discussing, especially not with a stranger. Her attention was solely focused on Cinderella getting better tips than anything else. Priorities and all that.

“Well, it’s set to fully hit tonight. If you want a lift back to the village, you can book in with me now, but I won’t come back out during the storm.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, nonsensically.

“Miss…?” he questions, confused by my response.

“I’m staying here,” I blurt out.

“You know the Torben brothers?” he questions as rain pelts against the car roof, the sound almost deafening.

“Yep.” Nope. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Ah, I see. Well, enjoy your stay then,” he says, returning his gaze to the road ahead whilst I question my sanity.

Five minutes later we pull up outside a large wooden cabin. Set over two floors and with a wraparound veranda, it’s beautifully rustic, simple but somehow bold, masculine. Beside the cabin is a single story building with a sign perched above the door that has the same motif as the letter folded up in my pocket. Behind both buildings are tall conifer trees that wrap around the property as though this portion of the forest was cleared just for this building to spring to life.

Welcome to Cabin of Axes, the sign says.

“It’s beautiful,” I confess.

“Yeah. Hand built by the brothers. They bought this piece of land five years ago, chopped down all the trees to clear the road and this area themselves. Impressive, no?”

“Very.”

“They use the wood from the trees they cut down to make garden ornaments, statues, that kind of thing. Some of the statues are so lifelike you could almost believe they have a real heart pounding within them. You must’ve seen the three bears in the restaurant…?”

“I did.” My response is curt, and I suddenly feel unwilling to discuss how those statues made me feel.

“Anyway, that’ll be ten pound, love,” the cabbie prompts, noticing my sudden change in attitude. He twists sideways to face me, and I hand him the money before stepping out into the rain. It lashes against my skin, drenching me within seconds. The cab driver rolls down his window.

“You should get out of the rain!” he calls, before waving and driving off.

I watch him leave, and once he’s out of sight, twist on my feet and jog towards the shop. I try the handle, but it’s locked. Cupping my hands around my eyes I press my face against the glass and peer into the darkness, but soon realise I’m looking at the back of a blackout blind. Apparently, the shop’s closed.

“Shit,” I exclaim, wiping back the wet tendrils of hair that have fallen across my face. Looking up