“I’ll take you there. It’s no bother.” Colin gestured down the hall. Noting her surprised expression, he added, “I do know where the kitchen is.”
“Of course. Didn’t think otherwise,” she lied. She couldn’t be blamed for thinking he wasn’t the type of guy who needed to know where the kitchen was.
“When I first moved in, I spent quite a bit of time with Marie in the kitchen. She’s quite the chef,” he said.
He motioned to her to follow him. She reluctantly moved to his side and fell in step beside him.
“I wouldn’t figure you for the type of guy who would hang out in kitchens.” There was a part of her that thought she shouldn’t poke at him, but on the other hand, if he found her company disagreeable, maybe he’d send her home.
“I do know my way around a kitchen. I enjoy cooking when I have time. It’s relaxing.”
“I once burned water,” she admitted with a small sigh.
Colin laughed. The sound was deep and infectious. “How did that happen?”
“It’s kind of like my broken leg dart board story,” she admitted. “Way too embarrassing to share it, but trust me, don’t leave me unattended in a kitchen.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I ran into you when I did, then.”
The charming side of Colin was back in full force, which flustered Sabela. Tongue-tied, she remained silent. If only he were this nice all the time, she might not mind staying at Haberlin Chalet.
Chapter Sixteen
SABELA MARVELED AT THE GORGEOUS chalet while Colin led her to the kitchen. After a short walk, they stopped in front of a set of swinging doors. He held one open for her. Inside was an expansive kitchen that could have belonged in any fine restaurant.
Nothing was small inside the chalet.
On the other side of a massive kitchen island, Marie was spinning something in a colander. She looked up as they entered.
“I found her, Marie. See? I didn’t lock her away somewhere and tell her she couldn’t eat,” Colin said.
Sabela couldn’t help but laugh.
Colin had disarmed her so easily she hadn’t even noticed him do it.
“If you listen to Marie, you’d think I’m some kind of ogre,” he said. “I was told in no uncertain terms that I needed to make sure that you don’t starve. Marie is afraid you’re going to waste away to nothing.”
No doubt, Marie had seen how little she’d eaten for breakfast. Sabela smiled at her, touched by her concern. “I appreciate it, Marie. You’re too kind.”
“No one ever leaves Haberlin without gaining a pound or two,” Marie said. “I make it my personal mission.”
Her accent was lovely. Sabela thought that she could listen to it all day.
There was definitely something maternal about Marie that she liked. She also liked that Marie wasn’t as intimidated by Colin as others were.
“You’re both just in time. I’m just finishing up some ratatouille.”
The previous evening had been a selection of Swiss delicacies. Now Marie had moved on to French ones. Sabela had heard mention of ratatouille before, but she’d never eaten it. Marie waved to them to sit down at the seats at the island.
More informal than the dining room the evening before, the kitchen put Sabela at ease. Not only that, but wearing simple jeans and a blouse made her feel more like herself.
Sabela ate the delicious stew while Marie chatted amiably with her and Colin. For the first time since she had arrived at the chalet, Sabela felt relaxed and even a bit at home. The chalet was starting to grow on her.
Eating in the kitchen made the meal more relaxed and casual. The bonus was that with Marie to buffer the conversation, the looming issue of Sabela’s debt was forgotten.
Marie had been married for forty years, and she and her husband had three grown children. She had lived in the village of Andermatt that was just down the mountain slope from the chalet for her entire life. It seemed crazy on one hand that she had never left, but then again Sabela had never been far from her city until now, either.
It was clear from different things that Colin shared that he had traveled all over the world. Sabela found that she was curious about him and where he came from. She wondered if he’d grown up wealthy.
From the way he spoke about his travels with such enthusiasm, she didn’t think so. Someone who was rich from birth would take travel for granted, wouldn’t they?
Sabela wanted to ask about his upbringing, but couldn’t quite find the right time to ask her questions. She’d have to wait.
When the meal was over, Sabela offered to help Marie with the dishes.
Of course, Marie declined.
“Oh no. Please, we have plenty of help for that.” She’d already swept all the dishes up into a stack. “You go and enjoy yourself.”
Sabela shuffled, uncomfortable, glancing shyly away from Colin.
“Have a drink in Mr. Morgan’s lounge and relax by the fire, you two,” Marie suggested. “I know Bruno has just brought up Mr. Morgan’s favorite bottle of scotch.”
The dishes clattered into the sink, and Marie looked over her shoulder to wink at them. She didn’t hide the fact that she was pushing them together. If only she knew.
“That’s an offer that sounds too good to refuse. And nothing goes finer with scotch than a beautiful guest to share it with.” Colin offered his arm to Sabela. “Shall we?”
The warmth and easiness of conversation at dinner had started to grow into something more. It was odd that just an hour ago, she had been thinking how much she detested him, and now, having seen him act like a regular human being, her perspective had changed.
She accepted his arm and tried to ignore the spark that struck between them when they touched.
“Do you enjoy scotch?” he asked as they left the kitchen.
Sabela shrugged. “I’ve never tried it.”
“Probably best, because after this you’d swear off any other scotch altogether. This scotch is that good.”
He led her into a room that she had not been in before, one near the front room, Colin’s personal lounge. Everything about the room was sleek and sophisticated, and the view from its broad windows was superb, like most every other room in the chalet. But then, the place was surrounded by spectacular nature, so any angle would be exquisite.
“I never understood the draw of expensive alcohol,” she said as she settled onto one of the long couches. “Or any alcohol. My father had a drinking problem.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you prefer we not drink?”
It was kind of him to ask, and Sabela appreciated his consideration. “Thank you, but no. I’ve learned to be at peace with it. I can’t let my father’s mistakes control my life.”
“Admirable. You’re wise beyond your years, Sabela. I hope you know it.”
Sabela flushed at the compliment and met his gaze, trying to ascertain if he was being genuine. She believed he was.
As much as she tried to convince herself that he was a beast who had no feelings, there was something magnetic about him. She was drawn to him and becoming more curious about him.
In order to mask how pleased she was by his praise, Sabela twisted on the couch so her head was turned away from him. How bizarre it was, to be drinking scotch in Switzerland with a man who held her future in his hands. She could hardly believe the turn her life had taken.
Colin crossed the room to the decanter, and while he was gone, Sabela reached out to touch a gorgeous crystal bowl set on its own, slender stand. The crystal was hard and cold, cut in an intricate design.
Inside the shallow bowl was an object she thought she recognized.
Her fingertips traced across it as if trying to make certain that it was real, then snatched it up and held it against her palm. Had she been in this room before and forgotten it here? Sabela knew that she hadn’t.
What was a matchbook for Pinkie’s Diner’s 30th anniversary doing in a crystal bowl in the middle of the Swiss Alps?
The
matchbooks had only been given out on one special day, and it was a day Sabela would never forget, could never forget.
By how worn the matchbook was, it appeared to have been rubbed repeatedly, like a worry stone or something similar. Who would do such a thing? And who would have it here, in a wealthy man’s chalet?
She turned her head and looked at Colin. He was pouring the scotch into two neat glasses. She willed herself to look beyond the trappings of wealth and privilege, to see the man underneath the shiny exterior.
The realization struck her like a blast of the cold, Alpine air. She shivered. She had indeed seen this man before. His hair had been longer, and he’d been dressed casually. He’d had some scruff on his jaw, and a baseball hat angled low over his eyes.