Thorne shakes his head and lets out the tiniest laugh that comes out as half snort and half grunt. It is nice to see the hint of a smile. I like that I amuse him. This guy could do with some amusement in his life.
It’s a long drive up into the mountains. I wonder about where he lives. It could be a cave. A castle. Or one of the many log cabins dotted all over the place. The sky outside is getting dark. Threatening rain or even snow. The road is getting smaller. Less traveled. Winding around rocky outcrops and trees. Finally Thorne pulls to a stop. His headlights lighting up a wooden porch and an arched door.
Getting out of the truck I take in the site before me. The wooden arch door is a thing of beauty. Strange as it sits with the rocky mountain to one side and what looks to be a wooden log cabin on the other, as though the cabin is somehow built into the mountain.
Inside is breathtaking. Like something out of The Hobbit but on a much larger, grander scale. The floor, the walls and even the ceiling is all made of wood, giving the place a warm, cozy feel, despite the size. The ceiling is arched, like a cathedral. The large area hosts a massive stone fireplace, comfortable lounges and armchairs. There are shelves full of books. A beautiful kitchen.
But the show stopper is the window. Taking up almost an entire wall, a circle of glass surrounded by a wooden frame. Wood threads through the window, looking like tree branches. And the view looks out to the mountain that seems to fall away and stretch out below us. It is all so beautiful. Like living in a tree, built into the mountain. A part of the landscape. It feels warm and magical.
I twirl around, taking it all in. The blankets, the cushions, the family photos and art on the wall. Whatever I imagined, I had pictured Thorne somewhere cold and empty. But this place is warm and welcoming.
Chapter 7
Annie
I look over at Thorne in disbelief.
“It’snota castle.” He says with a sheepish smile.
“It may as well be. This place is huge. But it’s like a Hobbit home, it is beautiful.”
Thorne nods. “My brother built them. There are three up here, one for each of us. He has a knack for building and he has this thing about blending with nature and being eco-friendly and sustainable.”
“Are you close with your brothers?” I ask, curious, wanting to know everything about him.
He sets about making some hot chocolate. It is a little while before he answers.
“Our father was hard on us. We were brought up to be self-sufficient. It worked out fine for us. We all went into the army. After I’d done my time I worked as a bodyguard. I traveled the world. But at some point I wanted to come home to the mountains. Watch over my town.”
He hands me a mug of hot chocolate and I inhale the sweet scent and let the mug warm my hands. Thorne watches me put the mug to my mouth and take a sip. There is a hungry look in his eyes that makes me feel hot all over. I am caught in hisgaze. An electricity between us. But he moves away to get the fire going.
“You must be glad your brothers are back in town.”
He nods.
I sit on the arm of the lounge, watching Thorne get the fire going. He has shed his jacket and it’s easy to admire the strength in his back, shoulders, arms. The man has very nice arms. And I like how big his hands are. I liked the feel of him holding my hand when he led me out of the town hall. I like everything about him. And now, I feel privileged that he has opened up to me. Let me inside his home. Is willing to talk about his brothers.
Looking around the space I take in all the books. There is a fishing pole and boots by the door. An armchair over by the window arranged to perfectly sit and take in the view. And a large wooden desk in the corner.
“What do you do up here, all by yourself?” I ask.
“There are always things to be done. Wood to be chopped, I have a few chickens and I have two donkeys for company. There is a cat somewhere too.”
“And over there?” I point to the desk, the papers and a computer.
He stands up, shrugs and looks down at his feet.
“Sometimes I write. I had this idea for a book based on a bodyguard.” He shrugs again.
It is odd to see such a big, strong man, one so sure of himself, a guy who can probably and has probably stormed through a hail of bullets. And here he is looking embarrassed because he writes.
His father certainly did some damage. I know the type. Especially up here in the mountains. Men are to be strong. Fearless. Have no emotions. It’s really not fair on these poor boys, taught to hide who they are, their passions, their feelings.My heart aches a little for this big beast of a man. So misunderstood his whole life. It makes me want to reach out and hug him. Reach out and comfort him. Reach out and ….touch him. Be touched by him.
I look out the window, trying to cool my thoughts which have become quite lustful.
“Oh, it’s snowing.” I love the snow.
Thorne runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “It was crazy to bring you all the way up here. If we don’t leave now we could get snowed in.”
