Page 2 of Almost Perfect
And then you had your awkward teen stage photographed non-stop, indefinitely.Nope. Didn’t want to think about the modeling career either.
I’d landed late afternoon and happily missed the hour-and-fifteen-minute drive from Salt Lake City thanks to the new private airport. My pop into the grocery had taken me ten minutes, max, but here we were, driving through town, and the January sky had already dimmed. Streetlights flipped on as we passed, and twinkle lights lit up trunks and branches of the trees lining the sidewalks.
Quaint. Beautiful. A little piece of my frozen heart thawed a touch. Not enough to feel the wretched thing stubbornly beating there, but enough to feel something like warmth as we crawled by the old Silver Ridge Lodge, then the massive, surprisingly pretty hotel that’d helped put the place on tourist destination lists since it opened a few years ago.
Once on the road out of town, he asked, “Have you stayed at this place? I haven’t taken someone this far up before.”
He didn’t glance back as he drove, for which I was thankful.
At least he was mindful of the twisting canyon road he’d turned onto. Out of the bustling town and into the canyon, the light disappeared even more as we followed the road cutting between two of the Silver Ridge mountains. The larger was Silver Ridge Peak, but I couldn’t remember the river’s name that slipped by next to us.
“I haven’t. Seems pretty new.”
The only reason I’d been able to find an open StayBnB so last minute during peak ski season was thanks to total luck and perfect timing. I’d been scouring the website, checking back every few days, when it popped up. I hadn’t even looked that closely, just told Mr. Warrick Saint I wanted his place for at least a thirty-day stay.
He’d accepted immediately, thank goodness. When I’d landed, I had a message from the owner.“Sorry for the inconvenience. My brother Wyatt will be meeting you today. I will check in first thing tomorrow, but please let Wyatt know if there’s anything you need this evening.”
Warrick and Wyatt? I’d forgotten the kitschy Utah trend of naming everyone in a family with the same first letter. Two brothers wasn’t so bad, though.
That little train of thought failed to distract me from the knot tightening in my stomach. By now, the sensation had become an old friend. Was I even alive if I didn’t feel nauseated from anxiety with a side of impending doom?
The thirty-five-minute drive up the second canyon slipped by in a smear of brown and white. It must’ve snowed in the last few days, but much of it had melted off at lower elevations. The higher we got into these mountains, the more covered everything was. And the more pure.
I fit in better with the dirty, melting remnants of snow than the powdery fresh stuff.
“Looks like this is it?” Jarrod asked, as though I’d know.
We’d skirted a fenced-in field for a few miles after leaving the canyon and now sat on the abandoned-looking road in front of a high wooden arch with a sign that said “All Saints Ranch.”
“Yep. The directions said drive up to the main house, then turn right and we’ll see it.”Crap, I hope we see it.
I’d chosen this place primarily because it was the only option. The bonus of its secluded location had seemed like a stroke of genius. No crowds from in town. No curious neighbors. Butwow, this place was out here.
“Here’s hoping the Saints, whoever they are, aren’t psychopaths and murderers!” He chuckled heartily at his joke. “Just kidding. They’re totally nice. You’re safe with them.”
The knot in me doubled in size.
Maybe Jarrod did know the Saints. Maybe they’d paid him off to lure unsuspecting women up to their murder cabin.
You booked this online, genius.Oh yeah.
But was I a complete idiot? Obviously, yes. More so than most people, though? Had I just set myself up to get axe-murdered by some country bumpkin Utahan cattle ranchers? Aside from Kristoffer, no one would know I was here. No one would find my body.
No one would be asking. If anyone did ask, they’d all be people who’d crack champagne and toast your demise.
I scrunched my eyes shut, banishing that barrage of thoughts.Not helpful, brain! Get yourself together!
Jarrod drove the long stretch of road flanked by fenced pastures all the way to a large farmhouse. A sprawling two-story home, it looked huge as we approached. Coach lamps lit the front to show stonework and wood—it had already grown too dim to see the full design. But it looked nice. Definitely nicer than something a murderer would own… right?
“Fancy,” Jarrod said as he turned right. “The Saints are good people, though. You’ll be fine.”
A little gust of relief swept through me. The building sat less than a quarter mile away, and it had that same warm glow as the main house. Warrick, or Wyatt, or whoever, had turned on the outside lights, and it looked like a few inside too.
Another shard of ice dropped off and melted in me. My chest warmed at the cozy-looking cottage. Well, from what I could tell, it looked like a barn, and the description had said it was a converted small barn. Hopefully, I wouldn’t freeze to death, but based on the smoke rising out of the chimney, the fireplace worked.
That I had no idea how to make a fire and no one to do it for me would be… interesting. Maybe the owner could teach me. I’d have to face any number of things I didn’t know how to do on this trip, and that was part of the point, wasn’t it? To haul myself out of this rut, if not to actually find myself.
“Well, all set here, I think. Oh, good, looks like somebody’s here to greet you. I would’a felt weird just droppin’ ya here in the middle of nowhere.” Jarrod exited the car and popped the trunk.
