by Anthology
“I dropped your class,” she said, the words coming out with more raggedness than intended. You didn’t come after me was the implication in her words. The accusation.
“And I dropped the ball.”
Mike chose that moment to hunt them down, spreadsheets in hand, marching toward Jamie and halfway through a question that sounded like Greek to Shelly before he seemed to realize the tension in the room.
“Did I interrupt something?”
“It’s fine,” Shelly said, taking her out. “We’re done here.”
“We’re not done here,” Jamie said in an even tone, aiming for something professional, but failing. Some catch in his voice made everyone twitch.
Shelly looked at Mike, then Jamie, holding him with a steely gaze.
“Yes. We are.”
Chapter Five
The nice part about working at an enormous ski resort was the trails in the woods. With the tiniest presence of mind, Shelly grabbed her coat, gloves and hat before she hightailed it out of the office. A light snow made the walk outside easier, and a deep breath of cold air helped to center her.
Her legs ate up the ground, an inch of newly-fallen snow completely covering the trail, which was now just a wide indent in the white blanket. The flakes that fell were small and compact, but there were so many. Half a mile and seven minutes later she slowed her pace, her breathlessness to blame for walking so quickly.
And not only from that kiss.
Damn it. Why did Mike have to hire Jamie of all people? Weren’t there a million accountants out there in central Massachusetts? He had to pick the one she had a heartbreakingly stupid crush on?
And the only man she’d ever willingly kissed.
The whole situation spiraled out of control inside the confines of her ribs, an ache she couldn’t pin down. The top of her hat began to feel heavy with snow and her face felt beautifully cold. Good. She needed to become so cold she’d numb herself to the raging emotions inside her.
She walked another mile, then two, letting the minutes unravel behind her like an old sweater with a hole in it that needed to be fixed.
Madge had taught her to knit when she was fifteen, declaring it the only useful art in the world.
“Anything that can be used to make a sweater and scratch your back at the same time has to be good,” she’d declared. “Even better—just marry a guy who knits and has strong fingernails,” she’d cackled, making Shelly blush.
Why was she thinking about Madge? And knitting? She raced down the trail at a half-run, her eyes catching little half-full animal tracks. The bunnies ran free here, along with some fox and coyote, though they stayed far away from the ski area.
Shelly’s boots ate the ground beneath her, but she slowed, suddenly a bit on edge.
The woods seemed darker than usual. She snagged her phone from her back pocket and looked at the time. It wasn’t even three yet. Why was the light changing?
A sudden gust of wind blew a mouthful of slanting snow in her face, the pace of snowfall quickening.
For a split second all she saw was white.
The wind died down briefly, leaving her with a view of the trees through the thick snowfall, but the darkness made her skin prickle. That wasn’t from the cold. It came from the realization that she was at least a forty-minute walk from the resort’s offices and out on a trail in what looked like the beginnings of a a nasty snowstorm.
Why hadn’t she checked the weather this morning? Her entire routine was thrown off now that Jamie was here. Rooting herself in place, she forced herself to calm down.
Could she run back in time?
The sky darkened more, the trees overhead making a canopy. Even without the leaves they were thick, half of them evergreens that blocked out the sun.
She turned back toward the offices and then suddenly remembered Mike’s cabin. The place was about three miles from the offices, and if memory served her correctly, should be within a half mile of where she stood.
Half a mile sounded a lot better than two and a half.
Trudging further into the woods, she grabbed her phone and turned the power off. The temptation to use it as a flashlight was keen, but it wasn’t that dark yet. She kept her head down and marched quickly, needing the heat generated from the exercise, but also aware that time was running out.
The snow was coming down faster, but that wasn’t the problem.
The wind, and her own fear of predatory animals was the issue. In the Cleghorn the only predators she had to worry about were the drug dealers on the streets and the occasional junkie who tried to break into her apartment and steal whatever they could get for cash for a hit or a pill.
Out here there were animals that bit.
She began to chant the first two lines of the chorus of a popular song, just loud enough to make animals know she was here, and also to have something to do. By her internal clock she should be getting close.
The outline of a building greeted her as she turned to the left, following the trail.
Ah. Sweet relief. She broke into a run, adrenaline surging through her as if she were being chased, the thud of her boots on the deck like crossing a finish line.
Her hand fumbled on the door knob. Locked.
Damn.
Think, Shelly, think. She turned her phone back on and took a good look at the door. No key. It was a code lock. Four digits.
Mike had told her the code, and it was written down at the office, but as she reached for her phone to text Mike, she saw she had no signal.
Double damn.
Four digits. Code. If she were Mike, what would she pick?
Aha.
Jillian’s birthdate.
She pressed the first four digits on the lock and the blessed green light began to flash.
Click.
The best sound ever.
The cabin was cold and clean as she hurried herself in, pushing to close the door with a fair amount of force against the wind. Sudden squalls were one thing, but this looked like one hell of a storm. Distracted and too obsessed with Jamie, she’d just put herself in danger and now look at the mess she’d made of the day.
She knew from previous trips here that the cabin was designed to run on solar power. One look outside at the greyish-white view and she figured the sun wouldn’t be adding any power for a while. Fortunately, living with her last foster family meant learning how to use a wood stove. While the Dalmans hadn’t been the most loving of foster parents, they’d been ruthlessly efficient in teaching life skills in a practical way. Shelly could chop wood, paint an eave, clean a gutter and bake a souffle.
None of those mattered right now. What she needed was to start a fire in the little wood stove. She pulled off her boots, hung up her coat, threw her gloves and hat on the small table next to the door and got started. Someone had left a stack of newspapers, enough wood for a day, and some kindling next to the little stone stove, and within five minutes she had an anemic flame at work.
“Huh,” she said aloud to herself, just to hear a human voice.
A howling sound outside made her tense up. Just the wind. No worries. Then why did her skin crawl like this? She was accustomed to being alone. Shelly walked into the kitchen and checked the fridge.
Two bottles of white wine.
She snorted. If nothing else, she’d have calories. A look in the freezer showed breakfast waffles and sausage, and the cupboards were full of a variety of snacks.
She wouldn’t starve.
Flames flickered through the window of the wood stove, putting her mind at ease.
She wouldn’t freeze, either.
A check of her phone told her it was headed toward four o’clock, and darkness would descend soon. Mike would worry if she didn’t find a way to contact him. She needed to find a way. Didn’t he have an old-fashioned landline somewhere in here? She remembered going over the monthly charge with the resort’s accountant.
Which made her think of Jamie.
“Huh,” she said aga
in, this time with more emphasis. Not thinking about Jamie. Thinking about Shelly.
If this cabin had a landline, it was well hidden. Her eyes combed the big, open room, catching a glimmer of metal and black hanging from one corner of the ceiling.
IKEA sure does have some strange hanging chairs, she thought to herself as she walked closer.
It was a series of black leather straps and stainless steel chains with hooks and loops. An ottoman was directly under it, and the chair—Shelly assumed it was some kind of chair—hung down fairly low.
“Maybe you sit in it and rest your feet on the ottoman,” she mused aloud. Why not? No one could hear her.
She stood on the ottoman and nearly fell on her ass. It moved like a glider rocker. She grabbed the hanging chair for support and laughed. What in the hell kind of furniture was this?
The chair itself seemed simple enough to climb into, though she didn’t understand why your thighs would need to be separated by special loops. Was this for acrobats? There was a school an hour or so north in Vermont that taught circus skills. Maybe this chair was designed by someone there?
She leaned back in what was starting to feel less like a chair and more like a harness, her feet pulled up by the sudden support of the chair and—
Airborne.
Her arms reached up, hands grasping the straps connected to a carabiner clip attached to a giant metal circle in the ceiling. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t close her legs.
Using as much muscled force as she could, she tried to brace herself against the ottoman.
She couldn’t reach.
“What the hell is this thing?” she muttered to herself. It wasn’t a very comfortable chair.
A red flush began in the base of her spine, thin tentacles of awareness making a slow ascent.
This isn’t a chair, she thought to herself. A small whimper of awakening came out of the back of her throat.
This is a sex swing.
Lights flashed across the window next to the cabin’s main door as Shelly began to thrash furiously. Mike must have gone out to look for her. Or someone had rented the cabin. Oh, dear God, she would die a thousand times if someone found her like this.
Bang bang bang.
She froze, then squirmed, trying to get out. It was no use. Without the ottoman to push against, she couldn’t get her legs out of the straps and Mike was going to find her like this—
Please don’t be Mike. Please don’t be Mike. Please don’t be Mike.
Four beeps as someone typed the code, and then click.
Oh God.
“Hello?”
That was not Mike.
Chapter Six
Covered in a light dusting of snow, his face not yet bitten by the cold, Jamie burst into the cabin and shoved the door closed. Shelly closed her eyes, squeezed them tight, and held her breath. Maybe if she pretended she didn’t even exist, he wouldn’t notice her.
Where was an invisibility cloak when you needed one?
“Well,” said his smooth, deep voice. “There’s a sight you don’t see every day.”
Didn’t work.
“This is not what you think.” She opened her eyes to find herself facing him, legs spread-eagled, her dignity a million miles away.
“What do you think I think, Shelly?” He made little sounds of amusement behind a broad smile, clearly struggling not to burst out laughing.
She was nonplussed. “Um… I thought it was a chair, and I—” A deeply embarrassed sigh poured out of her. Might as well just give up. There was no way this wasn’t going to be an excruciatingly humiliating experience.
Like most of life itself.
“You thought that was a chair?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you from? The 1950s?” He glanced at the wood stove, where the fire had begun to burn in earnest.
She started to answer and then realized she didn’t have to. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He arched one eyebrow, a curving slope around eyes so bright she could light the night with them. “I’ll ask you the same question right back.”
“I went for a walk after… after… .” Shit. After I argued with you and needed to get away.
Why did her problems follow her?
“And?”
“And the snow caught me off guard. The cabin was closer than my office.”
“You mean you didn’t come here to hang out in a sex swing for fun?”
Who needed the wood stove? Shelly’s blazing face could heat the cabin now.
Jamie took two steps toward her, then paused. A strange look floated across his face, one of apprehension. “Is someone else here?”
“What?”
“Are you in that… thing because you have a boyfriend? Is he here and I’m interrupting something?” He cast a dubious eye toward the window, and she knew he was calculating whether he could leave and be safe.
“No. I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said with a glare.
He stiffened. “A girlfriend?”
“No.”
He relaxed visibly and let out a breath. “Good.”
“Good?”
Two slow steps towards her and Jamie brought that damn electric field with him. Her skin began to prickle as the hair on her arms stood on end. Much closer and he’d be between her legs.
Her whole body burned.
“Need some help?” he asked as he walked behind her. Strong hands slid under her arms, lifting her. “Brace your feet on my shoulders,” he commanded as he bent down.
“I’ll whack my head on the ceiling,” she countered, confused. He was so tall. So strong.
With great determination and a performance worthy of an airborne version of the Twister game she’d played as a kid, Shelly managed to get out of the swing. Her body slid down the entire length of his as he dropped her slowly to the floor, her sweater pulling up, belly brushing against his belt buckle.
That fire inside her raged on.
“Thank you.”
“Any time.”
“There won’t be another time.”
“Too bad,” he said under his breath, but she heard him.
Her breath halted. She walked over to the wood stove and pretended to check on the fire.
“Why are you here?” she asked again.
“Mike suggested I examine the property. Take inventory. We need to assess the total value of the resort for depreciation and… ” He continued his explanation, accounting terms flying over her head as she watched his mouth move, his long, lean hands gesture along, and could only think about their kiss.
Kisses. Plural.
“… and here I am.” He looked at her. “And here you are.” Jamie’s hand touched hers. “What a coincidence.”
What a nightmare.
The only coping mechanism Shelly had when overcome with emotion was to flee. Run away. Hide. Get away. Emotions were dangerous and Jamie was one big walking feeling.
His hand rested against hers, fingers gently squeezing.
A phone rang.
Shelly jumped, Jamie letting go of her hand. Both fished in their pockets for their phones.
Neither one was ringing.
“Landline!” she shouted, running along the walls of the open cabin. “Mike said there’s a landline here!” Jamie followed her lead and searched, covering the wall opposite her. Shelly’s ears perked as she got closer to the kitchen, the counter, the—aha!
A small, plastic phone circa 1998 in a little cupboard. She grabbed it and shoved the thick plastic against her ear.
“Hello?”
“Thank God. Shelly, are you okay? I was calling for Jamie, but this is even better. What the hell happened to you? I’ve been texting and calling your mobile phone.”
“No signal here.”
Mike groaned. “At least now I know you’re safe. What happened?”
“I went for a walk and got caught in the storm. The cabin was closer than the office.”
“I knew that
cabin would come in handy.”
She gave the sex swing a frown. “It appears so.”
“I told Jamie to go check out all the buildings on the land, but man—do I have bad timing, or what?”
Bad timing? Is that what you call this?
“Shelly? Is Jamie there?”
“Yes.”
Mike made a suggestive laughing sound. “Well. Isn’t that a… predicament.”
Anger flared in her. “You think this is funny?”
He backpedaled. “A little. But at least you’re safe, and you’re with someone you know.”
Someone you know.
“And who knows? You’re single, he’s single… ”
“Now you’re a matchmaker?”
“Maybe it runs in the family.” Laura and her best friend had started a dating service, so Mike’s joke made sense, but Shelly wasn’t laughing.
“Not funny.”
“Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Mike joked.
“Based on what I see in here, that doesn’t leave anything.”
Silence.
“Excuse me?”
“Nice sex swing.” Jamie had been tending the fire during the call, but at her clipped words looked up with keen interest.
More silence from Mike. A hissed curse.
And then: “Oh. Sorry. I thought the cabin was, um… more guest appropriate. I’ll speak to Dylan and Laura about whatever they were up to.”
“It’s pretty clear what they were up to. I’m guessing that sliding leather footstool isn’t really a—”
“Holy shit!” came Jamie’s shout as Shelly turned and looked in the living room, where Jamie had discovered exactly what the ottoman near the sex swing.
“What is this contraption?” Jamie called out. He pulled back as it slid to and fro as what appeared to be a giant plastic penis popped up and down. Up and down. It was mesmerizing. Shelly watched as he walked over to the fireplace, grabbed a poker, and gently prodded the device as if it were a small woodland creature that might just bite.
“Let me guess,” Mike said with a sigh. “Jamie found the ottoman.”
“Yeah.”