Hudson strides through the cabin like a restless hound. He opens the cupboard in the kitchen, checks the locks on the windows, and opens the only other door, which is tucked away under the loft.
“Bathroom,” he lets me know.
I follow him around, taking in our new surroundings.
“Where do we sleep?”
Hudson pauses in the middle of the room and glances up at the loft. “Up there, I guess.”
He climbs up the ladder, and I wait with one hand on the rung, trying not to notice how good his ass looks from this angle.
Once he’s up, I follow, and when I reach the top, my breath catches in my throat. There’s a single round window by the bed that looks out over the valley with the snow-capped mountain in the distance.
“This place is stunning.”
My gaze goes to Hudson, but he’s looking at the bed and scratching the back of his neck. Which is when I realize the problem.
“There’s only one bed.”
And what a bed it is! It’s carved out of mahogany wood and polished to a shine. On the headboard are leaf patterns carved in intricate designs. How a bed this beautiful ended up in a cabin like this I don’t know.
“I’ll take the couch,” Hudson says.
“You’re not going to fit on that thing.” The thought of Hudson trying to squeeze his bulk onto the loveseat makes me chuckle. “I’m smaller. I’ll take the couch.”
He shakes his head. “There is no way I’m sleeping in a comfy bed while you’re on the couch. Not happening.”
He folds his arms over her chest, and my gaze darts to his muscular arms. I drag my eyes away, but by the way he’s smirking at me, I think he noticed.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says in a tone that commands no argument. “I’ve slept in worse places. I’ll be fine.”
His statement is a reminder of his military life. He must have been on missions in war zones, and now here he is babysitting me. It can’t be easy for him, and the fact that he’s willing to give up his own comfort and sleep on the floor for someone he barely knows tells me oodles about his character. He may be an uptight drill sergeant, but he’s got integrity, and I admire that.
“Thank you.”
He huffs as if it’s no big deal, then heads down the ladder.
I stay for a moment, looking out at the view. A cobweb sits at the base of the window. If this is going to be my home for a few days, the first thing it needs is a good clean, and thankfully, we stopped at a convenience store on the way here to pick up some supplies, including cleaning products.
While I clean, Hudson hooks up a generator and gets the fridge humming.
As I finish wiping down the last surface, I hear a scraping sound from the roof and go out to the front deck, where I spot a ladder propped up against the roof. Looking up, I catch a glimpse of Hudson’s boot.
“You need a hand up there?”
“I’m all good,” he calls down.
The deck wraps around the cabin, and I walk around to the far side of it, where it opens out to the valley. To the left is a woodshed with a thick stack of logs.
Next to the log shed is a structure made of corrugated iron sheets standing on their sides and wrapped around in a circle. A metal ladder leads up to it, and it’s covered by thick material.
“What’s that?” I ask, but Hudson doesn’t hear me.
I walk over and put my boot on the ladder; it’s only two rungs. The cover is secured with a cord wrapped around a fixture, and I undo it to peer inside. The corrugated iron hides the hard plastic casing of a small pool filled with water. A metal ladder leads into the pool, and there’s plastic seating around the edges. A homemade hot tub. It’s filled with water, and the cover has kept the leaves off it.
“There’s a hot tub!”
Hudson’s face appears over the edge of the roof. “Yeah, I noticed that. I can get it running if you want.”
