by Fawn Bonning
In the kitchen, Deb and Mel looked at one another with wide eyes. It was only on rare occasions that a swear word would cross Cat’s lips. The can-opener search instantly forgotten, they hurried to the living room.
“There’s someone out there!” Cathy said, her eyes riveted to the window.
“What?” Debra and Melanie asked in unison.
“Someone’s outside. I just saw someone cross in front of the window.”
“Christ, Cathy, are you sure?” Melanie strode toward the window in question. “I can’t see a thing.”
“I’m positive. He passed right in front of it.”
“He?”
“Well…I couldn’t really tell.”
Reaching up, Melanie drew the curtains together. “Who’s going to be traipsing about in a blizzard like this?” Moving to the door, she engaged the dead-bolt and slid the chain into place, then put her back to it, hugging her elbows and eyeing her friends. “Maybe it was a bear or something,” she said, for some reason finding the idea of a bear a lot less threatening.
“Wearing a blue jacket?” Cat asked. Setting her mug down, she hugged herself, rubbing her arms briskly.
“Okay, let’s not panic,” Debra said, moving to Cathy to put an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s just think about this for a minute.”
“Think about what!” Mel snapped. “If someone’s wandering around in a storm like this, they have to be bonkers!”
“Well, it could just be someone who’s lost, or something,” Cathy said, her eyes darting nervously from Debra to Melanie. “I mean, it’s possible, right? A storm like this?”
“I doubt it,” Mel replied. Putting a finger to her mouth, she nibbled on the nail. “I mean…I don’t hear anybody knocking?”
Three sets of frightened eyes peered at each other.
Venting a frustrated growl, Melanie raked back a mass of dark curls. “I’m calling the police.”
No one objected.
~~~~
“You have to be kidding,” Debra grumbled when Melanie hung up the receiver with a glum expression pasted to her face. “Give me the damn phone. Let me talk to those idiots.”
“Deb, they’re not going to come out in a raging blizzard just because three wimpy women have the spooks.”
“This isn’t the spooks, damn it! Cathy saw someone!”
“Well, if there’s any other sign of trouble, we can call back and they’ll send someone.”
“Wonderful.”
“In the meantime, we keep the doors and windows locked and don’t venture outside.”
“Oh, thanks for the advice. What are we, morons?” Plopping down on the couch beside Cathy, Deb pulled her knees to her chest and snatched up a throw pillow to hug.
“Well,” Melanie said, “I’m starving. Anybody up for Ring-a-Dings and coffee?”
~~~~
The storm was raging. The panes were rattling and the door shuddering.
Adding more wood to the fire, Melanie joined Cat and Deb on the sofa to stare pensively into the feeding flames. “Well,” she sighed, “it is a nice cabin, at least. I mean…it’s very quaint and cozy and it seems to be sturdy. I don’t think it’s going to blow over, or anything.”
“I guess,” Deb intoned. “I could do without the dead head, though.” Her eyes lifted to the deer head on the wall above the fireplace, it staring out with glassy eyes.
“Yeah,” Cat agreed, yawning into her hand. “Poor Bambi. He must have been a beauty. His rack is better than mine, even.”
“And look at all those,” Deb said, nodding to the rustic lamp in the corner constructed of deer antlers and wrought iron. “I think that takes care of most of Bambi’s relatives.”
“Yep,” Cat agreed. “The chandelier in the foyer is the same,” she said, nodding toward the door. “I think bout fifty of his cousins were murdered for that one, along with some aunts and uncles.”
“You do know that deer drop their antlers, right?” Melanie quipped. “They grow a new pair every year, dingalings.”
“Oh,” Cathy said. “That’s good.” She pointed to the rug laid out in front of the fireplace. “Do bears drop their skin every year, too?”
“Okay, that’s it,” Melanie said, slapping her knees. “Nothing but Ring-a-Dings in the belly, nothing but snow on the TV, nothing but static on the radio. How about some cards? Anybody up for some Gin Rummy? I brought two decks, so—”
They all yelped in unison as someone pounded against the front door, sending it to quaking in its frame. Shooting to their feet, they watched as someone rattled the door handle.
“Shit!” Melanie breathed. Treading on the balls of her feet, she darted across the room and snatched up the phone.
“Forest ranger,” a muffled male voice shouted, the words wafting through the door. “Hello?” he called out, pounding with a little more elbow grease. “Sheriff’s department called and said you might need some help. Phone lines are down so they sent me to check on you.”
Debbie and Cathy glanced furtively toward Melanie.
Putting the receiver to her ear, she nodded confirmation before placing it back in its cradle.
“Anyone hear me?” he shouted, pounding with more urgency.
Turning on her heel, Melanie disappeared into the kitchen, and reappeared within seconds with the cast iron pan in her grip. Padding quietly to the door, she hefted the pan in one hand and placed the other tentatively on the chain, hesitating as she peered over her shoulder at Cat and Deb.
“Okay,” the voice on the other side of the door shouted. “I’m going to have to break out one of the windows.”
Taking one last deep breath, Melanie unlatched the chain and unbolted the lock. Jumping back, she raised the pan over her head as the door came crashing open.
He practically fell in amidst a flurry of snow, a man thickly bundled in warm winter clothes that included a ski mask over his face.
Leaning his weight against it, he pushed the door closed before securing it with the deadbolt. “Holy mackerel, but it’s nasty out there!” he huffed, snatching off his mask and then his gloves. Blowing warm air on his cupped hands, he rubbed them briskly together.
His eyes lifted briefly to the frying pan poised above Melanie’s head, before dropping quickly back to her. “Oh, sorry,” he said, fighting to suppress a grin. Unzipping his coat, he peeled it back to reveal a blazer beneath with his insignia embroidered on the pocket. “Ranger Wilkins at your service, ma’am,” he said, flashing white, even teeth and offering his hand.
She felt the heat rush to her cheeks. Lowering the pan, she shifted it to her left hand. “Thank God,” she said, giving his hand a few firm pumps. “We were going nuts sitting here. Cat here swears she saw someone out the front window.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Not very likely. Not fit for man nor beast out there. Visibility of about two feet. I almost got lost myself, and I know these parts like the back of my hand.”
Melanie brushed the bangs from her eyes. “How in the world did you manage to get here?”
“Snowmobile. That’s the only way you’re getting anywhere in this kind of weather.”
“Well, you scared the living daylights out of us,” Cathy broke in. “They said they weren’t going to send anyone.”
“Yeah. They got concerned when the phones went dead, so they radioed me.”
“Well…we really appreciate it,” Debra said, breaking out of her shock and moving up to stand beside Melanie. “Risking this storm and all to check on us, I mean.”
“I’m just glad to see everything’s fine here,” he said, brushing the snow from his shoulders. “But…I’m afraid I’m going to have to impose on you ladies. Looks like I may have to spend the night. Now that the sun’s gone down, it’s too dangerous to risk a trip back in this storm.”
“Of course it is,” Debra said, smiling radiantly. “You are more than welcome to stay.”
“Absolutely,” Cathy agreed, rushing up to stand beside Deb. “Here, let me take your
coat. Can I get you anything?” she asked as she pulled a hanger from the coat closet. “Coffee, or something? We just boiled a fresh pot of water.”
He shrugged off his coat. “Coffee would be great.”
“I got it,” Debra said, scurrying off to the kitchen.
“No, wait,” Cathy called, wrestling his coat onto the hanger and shoving it into the closet. “You always make it too weak,” she said, hurrying after her.
Keeping his spot by the door, he ran his eyes down Melanie’s length, taking in the baggy sleepwear and the frying pan in her hand, and struggling against a grin the whole while. He was quite tall, she realized, and quite striking with dark wavy hair and amazing green eyes.
“You see something funny?” she asked, raising her brows.
“No ma’am,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry if I gave you a scare. That thing looks pretty deadly.”
She hefted the frying pan. “It could do some damage. So I suggest you keep yourself in line, mister.”
He grinned. “Yes ma’am. I’ll do that. I’m really sorry I have to put you ladies out.”
“Are you kidding?” Cathy called from the kitchen. “You just made us the three happiest girls on the mountain. I may actually be able to sleep tonight.” Shuffling back, she handed him a large mug of steaming coffee and then stood not two feet away, going over him inch by inch with a well-practiced eye. And it seemed she approved of what she saw. With her shoulders pulled back and breasts thrust out, she beamed up at him, flashing her best smile and batting her eyelashes.
Melanie gave an inward groan.
Could Cat be any more obvious? She couldn’t blame her though. He was exceptionally handsome. Fair skin and dark hair. And his eyes were the greenest she’d ever seen.
“Wow,” Cat said right on cue, “you have the most amazing green eyes. Just like emeralds. Deb, come look at this.”
“Cat, please,” Melanie said, “the man’s practically frozen solid. Give him a break, for God’s sake.”
He looked to Melanie appreciatively as he took a sip of his coffee.
“Well, come on in and have a seat by the fire, then,” Debra said as she hurried from the kitchen carrying the box of Ring-a-Dings. “Would you like a snack cake?” she laughed. “That’s about all we can offer you. We have soup and stuff but we can’t find a can opener.”
“Really,” he said, his frown managing to appear appealing. “They usually keep these cabins pretty well stocked.” Strolling to the kitchen, he opened a drawer and moved aside some silverware. “There she is,” he said, pulling out the utensil in question.
“Oh, my God!” Deb gasped, tossing the box of Ring-a-Dings to the counter so she could plant her hands on her hips. “I looked in there! I can’t believe that! I did, I looked in there, didn’t I, Mel? I swear I did!”
“Yeah,” Melanie said, her brow furrowing. “I did too…several times.” Moving up beside him, she peered into the drawer.
“Christ! I guess we are just a couple of dingalings,” Debra snorted.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he said, grinning down at Melanie with glittering green eyes. “There’s a lot of junk in there. Just overlooked it, I’m sure,” he said, offering it out to her.
Melanie felt the blush rush to her cheeks as she took it from him. “I guess.”
~~~~
“I can’t believe that was in there the whole time,” Melanie said as she emptied the soup into the pot.
“Yep. Sitting right on top,” he said as he punctured the lid of the corned-beef hash can and began cranking the knob with ease.
“Fine, rub it in.”
He chuckled as he pried up the lid. “If you want, I can locate a spoon for you.”
Sliding open the drawer, she plucked out a spoon and waved it in front of his face. “I think I’ve got it from here, thank you very much.”
“Are you sure?” Retrieving his mug, he cradled it in both hands, watching as she spooned the corned beef hash into the pan. “I’m pretty good in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, pretty good at getting in my way,” she said, nudging him aside. “So beat it.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, stepping aside to observe.
“And enough with the ma’am. You’re making me feel old…not to mention short. What are you, like six-four?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, laughing when she shot him a scowl.
Taking hold of the pan’s handle, she began to stir the hash that was instantly sizzling. “You know, just because this pan has food in it, doesn’t mean it can’t do some damage,” she warned.
“I don’t think I have to worry about that,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“No? Why’s that?”
“Because you’re hungry and you love corned beef.”
“Really? And just how would you know that, pray tell?”
Leaning close to her neck, he breathed in deeply. “I can smell it.”
Lifting the pan from the stove, she arched her brows in warning. “Okay, buddy, back off. Why don’t you go honor Cat and Deb with your presence for a while.”
He took a few steps back, his green eyes sparkling as he lifted his mug to his lips. “I’m good,” he said as he took a sip.
With him so close, it was difficult not to notice his scent, one detectable over the aromas of cooking food, even. It was woodsy, like trees and running creeks and fresh mountain air and sunshine all rolled into one. It was entirely intoxicating. It was…erotic.
“Ouch, damn!” she swore, wiping the splatter of grease from the back of her hand.
“Here, why don’t I make myself useful.” Setting his coffee aside, he reached for the spoon, his hand lingering on hers for a few long seconds. She met his eyes briefly, feeling a strange tingling where his skin touched hers. It crept up her arm to her chest, making her heart sputter.
Feeling flushed and confused, she quickly surrendered the spoon and stepped aside.
Leaning down, he adjusted the flame. “It’s a little too hot,” he said as he began to stir. “Cooking with gas can be a little tricky.”
~~~~
She went through cabinets and drawers, pulling out plates and bowls and silverware, all the while her head spinning. What in the hell was going on? She’d known the man less than thirty minutes and she was acting all flustered and goo-goo eyed. She could feel her heart speed up and the color rise to her cheeks every time he glanced her way, which he seemed to be doing with annoying frequency. Even her palms felt clammy. She was acting like a real ditz. She wasn’t some dim-witted little twit who swooned every time some smooth-talking Romeo winked at her. Some scatterbrained ninny who giggled and batted her lashes every time some pompous, egotistical Casanova flashed pearly whites in her direction. It was asinine!
~~~~
Perched across from Cathy at the table, Debra laid out the cards for another game of double solitaire, all the while keeping a keen eye on the couple in the kitchen. There was obviously something brewing in there besides coffee. She couldn’t ever remember seeing Melanie so flustered.
Nudging Cathy under the table, she motioned toward them with her eyes. Cat nodded, and they both erupted into contained giggles.
~~~~
“Soups on, ladies,” Melanie said as she carefully carried the last two bowls of soup to the table.
“Oh man, does that smell delicious,” Cathy gushed as their guest set a plate of corned beef hash in front of her.
“Yeah, I don’t ever remember being so ravenous,” Debra agreed. “Good thing you came along, Ranger Wilkins. Are you sure you don’t want some?”
He grinned handsomely. “No. I’ve eaten. And please,” he said, seating himself and pulling his coffee close, “call me Michael.”
“Okay, sure…Michael,” she said, and she and Cathy both began to titter.
Melanie rolled her eyes as she took her seat, and then blushed when she realized he was watching her. Plucking up her spoon, she scooped up some chicken noodle soup and blew on it gently, tryin
g not to think about the green eyes that were literally taking her breath away. She was distressed by the way every breath seemed to be harder to pull in than the last. And she was especially disturbed by way the spoon was shaking in her hand, so much that half its contents would spill back into the bowl before she could bring it to her lips. She’d always prided herself in her staunch levelheaded approach to the opposite sex. She didn’t like feeling so out-of-control. She didn’t like that she wasn’t tasting the food, or that every second that ticked by seemed more like an hour. She was simply going through the motions. Spoon in bowl, spoon in mouth, chew, swallow. Don’t look up, he’s watching your every move. Spoon in bowl, spoon in mouth. Don’t forget to chew. Don’t choke when you swallow, you hair-brained ninny.
It was the longest and blandest meal of her life.
~~~~
“So, Michael,” Debra said, pushing her empty plate away and dabbing her lips daintily with her cloth napkin. “You lived here long?”
He nodded. “My whole life.”
“Wow. Were you born here?”
“No. Actually, I was born in Russia. We moved here shortly after.”
“Oh,” Debra said, “Michael doesn’t sound Russian.”
He grinned. “My given name is Mikhail.”
“I see. Well, my given name is Debra. I’m a yoga instructor from West Palm Beach, Florida.
“Yeah,” Cat broke in with a giggle. “You should see her do the splits. She’s like a red-headed Gumby.”
She squealed as Deb threw her napkin at her.
“That blonde-headed ditz is Catherine Shay,” Deb continued. “She’s a secretary for a very prestigious law firm in West Palm, but they only keep her around because she has big boobs.”