Freeze Frame

by Freya Barker

  I’m normally a man of few words, but am always able to find one or two. Right now I’m dumbfounded. Two days ago, I was prepared to fight for just a chance, and today she is casually planning ahead for next spring, not a question in her openly excited face whether I’ll be here or not. The blind trust a gift I’m not even sure myself I deserve.

  “I...” I have to clear the frog from my throat before I try again. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

  “Awesome,” she chirps, clapping her hands with the excitement of a little girl. “Let me take a few more shots from the rock, and maybe we can go into town and get some of the prints enlarged? It’ll help planning the layout of the house, and I’d love to do a series showing all the steps in the process.”

  I patiently wait until she has all she wants, and listen to her chatter all the way back down the mountain, her small hand firmly tucked in mine. She’s so excited she doesn’t notice I’m not responding to a thing she says.

  I’m too busy processing it all.

  Isla

  I think I may have scared him.

  The entire way back to the campground, he was quiet, his face a passive mask. Trust me to jump light-years ahead, instead of letting things follow their natural course. Stupid.

  Once at the trailer, he kisses me almost chastely and heads toward the Deville.

  “Hey!” I call after him. “It’ll take me only ten minutes or so to download these. Aren’t you coming with me?” He stops and turns, a slight tilt to his lips.

  “Figured if we’re going to Cortez, we might as well stop at that building supply store coming into town. I’m just gonna make a quick list,” he says before disappearing inside.

  So it takes me a little longer than ten minutes, but only because one of the shots caught my eye. An image of Ben on the rock, hands in his pockets, and a pensive look on his face. The picture is slightly overexposed, and I quickly edit it in a dramatically contrasted black and white effect, before adding it to my USB drive.

  Ben is waiting outside in his truck, the engine already running.

  “Hope you don’t mind the truck,” he says when I climb in. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m driving that thing.” He points at my little black Beetle and I bite back a grin. He’d have to fold his legs in his neck to get into the front seat.

  “Don’t insult my trusted little steed,” I scold him. He snorts loudly as we pull out.

  “Wouldn’t trust that thing through the first real snowfall. We’re gonna need some proper wheels, and some other things. I want to check in town to see if any of it needs to be ordered in.”

  Snowfall. Yikes, I hadn’t even thought of that. We’re going to be up on this mountain through the winter. Or at least that’s what it looks like.

  “What other things?” I ask, a little worried about finances. I haven’t done too badly with the sale of my prints, and the company account Uncle Al showed me has a healthy balance, but still. The numbers I’d crunched in my head, for the road and groundwork on the plot, did not include any additional expenses.

  “We need a generator, for when the power goes off.”

  “There is one in the shed by the trailer. Occasionally losing power is not uncommon up here,” I inform him.

  “Good. We’ll just have to make sure we have plenty of fuel to keep it and the vehicles going, and a separate shed to store it in. But we’re also gonna need some snow fencing to protect the trailer from drifts coming up off the reservoir. I’d like to order a plow blade for this truck and we’ll need some shovels.”

  “Wow. That sounds like a bit of an expense. I’ll have to work out a budget,” I offer carefully. Ben turns to me with a big smile, like he didn’t just drop what has to be at least a couple of thousand dollars worth of necessities.

  “Yeah, we can work that out later,” he says easily. “But they are investments. Even when the house is built, we’ll still need to get through our winters. Besides, I was thinking, maybe your uncle’s friend has an old but serviceable blade, sitting in his field somewhere, we can get for a steal.”

  The entire drive to Cortez I try to wrap my head around what it means to live in a trailer through the winter. Luckily Dolores is only a short ten-minute drive, although that might be a little longer in the snow. The small town is good for basic necessities but Cortez, which is twenty minutes farther, is better for everything else.

  As much as overwintering up here makes me nervous, I’m also excited about the photographic opportunities it’ll offer. By the time we pull up to the print shop, I’ve already planned a whole new winter series, making mental notes of the kinds of shots I’d like to take.

  “I’ll just be a sec,” I call over my shoulder as I hop out of the truck. Ben just lifts his fingers off the wheel in acknowledgement. Fortunately there’s no one else in the store, so it doesn’t take long to explain what I’d like. With a promise I can pick up my prints in a couple of days, I’m climbing back in the passenger seat. “Okay. What’s next?”

  I turn my head to find Ben looking at me slack-jawed.

  “What?”

  “Usually when a woman says she won’t be long, I know I should settle in with the newspaper because it’ll be a while.” He shakes his head, turning the key in the ignition. “You’re a new surprise every day, Pixie,” he mumbles under his breath. I have to smile at that but one thing sticks in my mind.

  “How usual is it to have a woman ask you to wait?” I try for aloof, but of course with a question like that, there’s no hiding the hint of green. Ben keeps his eyes on the road but a shit-eating grin spreads over his face.

  “I have a sister,” he says, surprising the shit out of me.

  “You have a sister? I thought...” I’m still thinking, wondering whether he’s actually ever said he didn’t have family. “I thought you told me your teammate that got killed was the only family you had?” I remember something he told me only days ago.

  “My family wasn’t a fan of my career choice. My sister was only four when I went off to college. My grandfather was a lawyer, my dad was a lawyer, and the expectation was I’d be a lawyer as well, joining the family practice after college. Instead, I chose criminal justice, following my dream of law enforcement. It didn’t go over well.” I want to say something sympathetic, but his broad hand lands on my knee, giving it a cautioning squeeze, so I press my lips together. Part of me instinctively understands it’s not easy for him to share this. “When my parents died, I didn’t find out until after their funeral. And only because my father’s secretary thought letting me know was the right thing to do. My parents left me a dollar in their will.” Ben chuckles harshly at my sharp intake of breath. “Apparently it was their way to ensure I’d never be able to contest the will. And my grandparents weren’t much better. My sister Anastasia, Stacie, was fourteen at that time, and when I tried to contact her, I was told in no uncertain terms that no contact would be allowed. I lost myself in my work after that. Took on one assignment after another.” He sighs deeply as he turns into the parking lot of the building supply store, pulls into an empty space, and turns to face me. “Nine years ago she contacted me. She’d just finished college—studying law—and found herself pregnant. When she refused to abort, my grandparents shut her out. I was able to help her find a place in Albuquerque, and a job with the Public Defender’s Office.”

  “The baby?” I ask, grabbing his hand. I’m relieved to see a gentle smile on his face.

  “Mak, a feisty little thing.”

  “So you stayed in touch.”

  “Yeah. As much as my work would allow. Stacie has a good life in the city. Great career, friends, good schools for Mak.”

  “And your grandparents?”

  “Both gone now.” He looks unseeingly out the windshield before turning his gaze back on me. “Come on. Enough about that,” he cuts off any further discussion.

  For now, I mentally add, still teeming with questions. There are many more layers to this man than I’d imagined.

  -<
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  My head is spinning by the time we drive back into Dolores.

  I have a creative mind. Ideas come to me fast and furious, but I’m much less courageous when it comes to execution. It takes me a while to organize my ideas to a point where I’m ready to act on them. Ben, on the other hand, is much more practical—hands on. I’m amazed at the methodical way he is able to mark things off his mental checklist.

  We have four large fuel containers, a prefab shed, insulating panels, two snow shovels, and a roll of snow fencing in the truck bed. He even noted down prices on plow blades. All that was before he drove us to a car dealership, where he put a deposit on a brand new Toyota Land Cruiser. He’d be able to pick it up in two weeks.

  Just. Like. That.

  I tried to argue that maybe he needed to think about it a little longer, but all he said was, “What’s there to think about? My bike’s no good in the winter, and who knows how long the truck will last. And I’m not even going to mention that toy you call a car. We need some way to get around.”

  It shut me up.

  Mostly because he was right, but also because what he said meant something. Buying that car, preparing for a long winter—even asking for reputable contractors, like he did at the building supply store—all of it meant a whole lot. As much as I made a statement when we were up on the mountain, talking about joined plans as if it was a foregone fact; Ben’s actions were an even louder statement.

  He wasn’t just talking about it—he was making it happen.

  CHAPTER 4

  Ben

  “Wow. I didn’t think you’d get it up this fast.”

  I grin and lift my eyes to find Isla leaning over me.

  This morning I woke up to her head under the sheets, leisurely licking her way up my thighs. Before my eyes even opened, she had me engulfed in the slick heat of her mouth, and I had to struggle not to come down her throat. All it took was a tug on her short hair, and she was sliding her body up mine until her core was poised over my cock. There was nothing more glorious than to see her sturdy hips sink down until I was buried deep inside her. It was slow, even lazy, the way she took what she wanted from me, and I’d been happy to lie there and let her have it all. She’d been playful and would bring me to the edge before easing the pace, only to do it again. Only so much playing a guy can take before he takes matters in his own hands, and finally I flipped us, so Isla was on her back and I was taking us all the way.

  Later, as I was twisting this way and that, cleaning up in the tiny shower, I promised myself we’d have to invest in a large bathroom in the new house. Big enough for the two of us. When I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my hips, Isla was already perched on a stool at the counter, her laptop open in front of her. Engrossed in her edits, I got dressed, kissed her neck in passing, and went to build a shed.

  “Watch it, Pixie,” I growl into her smiling face. “You’re enough to give a man a complex with those old man barbs you throw out.”

  “I was talking about the shed, you perv,” she says, shaking her head but grinning as she did it. She moves back a step and takes in the small building. It hadn’t taken much to level the floor and put the walls up. These prefab kits come mostly preassembled, so as long as you keep your angles plumb, they basically just snap together. The only things left are the insulation panels and the roof, and last comes hanging the door.

  “How come you’re so good at this?”

  “Worked construction on weekends and during the summer breaks to pay for college,” I admit on a shrug. “Found out I’m good with my hands.”

  “I’ll say.” Her cheeky smile matches the twinkle in her eyes when I glance over, before she turns serious. “I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but your parents sucked.” I throw my head back and laugh at her unexpected venom.

  “Yes, they did. But I came out with an added skill set that sure comes in handy now, doesn’t it?” The only response is a grumble. I get up from my knees and pull her into my arms. “Hey. It’s done. Been done for a long time and I’m okay with it.” When the frown is still on her face, I lean down to kiss it away. “We’ll have to have Stacie come visit here sometime. I’d like you to meet her. She and Mak would love it here.” I change the subject and that perks her right up.

  “Do you think they could come before the snow hits?”

  “I’ll give her a call this week.”

  “Awesome.” Her voice is breathy but her smile is big. “I have to run into Dolores to drop off a few prints at Jen’s and pick up something for dinner. Anything in particular you like or don’t like?”

  “Depends,” I answer. “Are you gonna cook it?” I watch as she rolls her eyes. Cute.

  “Was planning to,” she finally concedes.

  “Good, then I’ll like anything. Word of warning; I can feed myself, but I’m a shit cook. All I’m good at is meat. Grilling it that is.” Now she’s grinning.

  “Is that your way of telling me I’ll be the cook in the family?” she teases.

  “Seems fair,” I shoot right back, hooking her around the waist. “I’ll build shit and you cook.”

  “Whatever,” she mumbles against my mouth as I give her a hard kiss, before letting her go.

  “Drive safe,” I call after her.

  She keeps walking, giving me a thumbs-up over her shoulder.

  -

  A couple of hours later, I step back to admire my handiwork.

  Looks pretty good.

  The roof went on smooth, the hard foam insulation panels were easy to cut to size and install, but I had to use shims to hang the damn door. That part took longer than I expected.

  Tossing my tools back in the toolbox, I hear a truck start up on one of the camp spots along the water’s edge. Out of the fifty or so sites, there were only about eighteen taken, and that would likely become fewer over the weeks to come. I expect that numbers will pick up over the weekends, but with summer over and kids back to school, it’s pretty quiet during the week. Most of the current campers are likely fishers or hunters, and there’d be more of those coming in. Hunting season opens early September. Mostly elk and deer, maybe black bear in these regions. It’s a whole different breed of campers.

  The truck pulling out now, with the large chest freezer strapped down in the bed, belongs to a couple of guys who’d been a bit rowdy last night. Celebrating maybe, since they obviously pulled up stakes and are heading home this morning.

  I was never one much for hunting. I like game as well as the next guy, but I guess when hunting bad guys is what you do for a living, there’s not much thrill in hunting down animals. I might go out at some point. See if Damian is interested in coming down for a weekend; maybe see if we can tag an elk. It would give us enough meat for both our freezers.

  Thinking of freezers, I should check to see if the generator is in good working order. Isla mentioned there is a chest freezer in there as well. The door to the big shed is padlocked, so I head inside to see if I can find a key that fits. On a hook just inside the trailer door, I find a bunch, most of them with tags. It doesn’t take long to locate the one for the shed.

  The key turns smoothly in the padlock and I pull open the double doors. I’m pleased to find the generator is not as old as I thought it might be. Looks like a 10,000-watt unit, which is plenty big enough to sustain a house, let alone a trailer.

  Lifting the lid on the freezer, I find it maybe a third full. Ice has frosted the inside of the walls and lid. It’s an older one, but could probably handle one more winter. It just needs cleaning out. Next I turn to the generator, checking the fuel gauge. When I try to fire it up with the electric starter, it kicks on immediately. Not exactly without noise, but it isn’t that bad. I let it run for a bit, while I scan the rest of the shed’s contents.

  Gardening tools, some lumber, and a shelving unit with bathroom and cleaning supplies. I presume those are for the public showers and toilets. Then I notice a tall narrow safe tucked on the far side of the shelves. A gun safe. Wonder if Al le
ft his guns behind. Of course the safe is locked, this one not with a key, but a numeric pad. I should give him a call and find out the code.

  “Three, seven, three, four, one, zero, eight, three, four.”

  I whirl around, my hand automatically reaching for the gun I’m not carrying.

  Isla

  “Ah, you brought me the rest!” Jen cries enthusiastically, when she spots me coming in the door to The Pony Express.

  “I did. And I’m already working on more,” I respond, lifting the large tote with the heavy frames onto the counter. “I shot some of the colors yesterday and am trying something new with the edits. I worked on it all morning. Want to see?” I pull out my phone where I’ve saved a few of this morning’s edits to show her. Some of them shots I took yesterday, everything in gray tones, except for the golden yellow and deep green of the trees.

  “Oh my God, these are stunning!” Jen flips through the images. “These will be perfect,” she says, looking up from the small screen of my phone.

  “Perfect for what?”

  “You missed him by about twenty minutes. I was gonna call you, but I just got a late lunch rush in. This guy walks in, an older man, a bit too distinguished looking for these parts,” she muses, a little smile on her face, before looking back at me. “Anyway, he ordered coffee and a sandwich and sat down there.” Jen points at a small table against the wall on the other side of the coffee shop. “Had a perfect view of your prints from there and spent most of his time scrutinizing them and taking notes in his phone while he was eating. When he brought his dishes to the counter, he wanted to know who the artist was. I didn’t want to just give out your name, so I hope you don’t mind I asked him why he wanted to know.” The excitement is clear on her face as she claps her hands together. “Have you hear of Colorado In View? That new gallery in Durango?” When I shake my head, she explains. “It’s fabulous. I think it opened some time last year. I was there in the spring. Sculptures, paintings, tapestries, pottery, and photography. The one common theme of all; the art on display is Colorado through the eyes of the artist. He owns the place. The guy who was here. He wants to do an exhibition of your work.” Her last words come out as one, as if she’s barely able to contain herself.