51

Chandler had had his fair share of meals at that table. The couch and chair—basic and brown leather—faced a small TV on an equally small console table because when Paul was home, he was outdoors.

His property was probably more than five acres of heavily wooded forests, and the entire square footage of his cabin couldn't have been more than five hundred. The soaring ceilings of the main room is what made it feel bigger than it was. The old-fashioned wood-burning stove set into the back corner gave it a warm, inviting feeling, which would get even better once he had it lit.

"Bedroom upstairs?" she asked.

Chandler nodded. "The loft."

Elena eyed the staircase warily.

"Don't worry," he told her. "I have a long history crashing on that couch, and I've had much worse nights of sleep than that."

Elena turned and faced the part of the cabin that was all windows. It was Paul's, and Chandler's, favorite part of the cabin. Yeah, it was small, but one whole side showed the beauty of this place the