by Vivian Wood
King laughed.
“You’re just a year behind me,” he said. “Be careful.”
They enjoyed the view in comfortable silence. Effie watched for another furtive leap from the rabbit, but all was frozen and still below them.
“Come on,” she said and tugged at his arm. “This is too perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
“Doesn’t the perfection of the snow make you just want to mess it up? It’s like opening a fresh jar of peanut butter. Nothing should be this perfect.”
She ran down the hill and delighted in the sounds of her boots in the powder. At the bottom, she threw herself onto her back and gazed up at the soaring trees overhead.
A few fat flurries still tumbled to the earth. Effie stuck out her tongue to catch one as she made slow, lazy angels in the whiteness.
King loped towards her with a grin on his face and one hand behind his back.
Effie stopped suddenly, her legs splayed and arms overhead. “King, don’t you dare!”
“What? I’m not doing anything.”
“I know what you have! You’d better not—”
Before she could finish, his hand shot out from behind and he lobbed the snowball right at her chest.
“Ow!” she cried out with a laugh. “That’s so not fair.”
Effie pulled herself up and made her own snowball while King backed away. She shot the ball directly at his head and laughed as the snow exploded across his knit cap.
“Damn, Effie!” he said. “I forgot not to start something with a former softball player.”
“Former all star softball player,” she said.
The tight boots slowed her down, and King got two more sloppy shots in. Effie managed to pack together a loose snowball and catch him before he could re-fuel.
She jumped on his back and stuffed the ball down his jacket while he howled—but he didn’t let go of her thighs that were wrapped tight around his waist.
King threw himself onto his stomach in the snow and forced her to topple on top of him. Effie found herself straddling him as he wiggled beneath her and turned onto his back.
For a moment, she didn’t fully realize their position. She tried to pin his arms over his head as he brushed up snow in the air to ward her off. And then she felt his hardness between her legs.
His cock was right there, and as hard as it had ever been. She glanced up at him, trying to ascertain just what that meant.
Before she could react, King took advantage of her moment of pause and flipped her onto her back.
He was on top of her, positions reversed. His hips pinned her down, and with one hand he clasped her hands above her head. In his other hand, she could see a clenched snowball.
His cock pressed against her made her so horny that she couldn’t stop herself from pushing slightly against him. She watched his eyes travel to her mouth.
Briefly, he leaned down and she instinctively closed her eyes. He was going to kiss her, she was sure of it. There was a pause, and then Effie felt him roll off of her.
“We should get back,” King said. “Who knows when the storm will pick up again.”
“Yeah. Sure,” she said.
Effie stood up and brushed the snow off her pants and jacket. King had already started back up the hill towards the snowmobile. As she went after him, she felt a constant sharp pinch in her right boot. Effie was thankful for the impending blister.
At least it will give me something else to focus on.
She held her breath as he fired up the ignition and she had no choice but to wrap her arms around him once again. This time, she held on as loosely as she could. Effie let the cold wind slap her face instead of leaning against his back for comfort.
“Go on in,” King said as he pulled the snowmobile into the shed. “I’ll get this covered up.”
Effie slid off the boots in the mudroom and pulled off the jacket. She pulled off the pants and tossed them into a corner. In just borrowed long johns and King’s old college sweatshirt, she made her way into the kitchen and started to paw through the cupboards.
The front door opened and closed with a slam. She heart King curse and mutter under his breath as he loudly put away the snow gear.
“Hey!” she called as she heard him pass by the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I can make soup—”
“You go ahead,” he said curtly. “It’s freezing, I’m going to build a fire in the bedroom.”
“Are you sure?” she called. Effie was still, one can of soup in each hand, as she listened to him toss kindling into the fireplace in the bedroom.
“Yeah!” he called. “I’d prefer not to freeze my ass off like I did last night. Unless of course you have a problem with me sleeping in my bedroom?”
“Nope, no problem at all,” she said quietly.
Effie slammed both the cans back into the cupboard, her appetite gone. They’d had such an amazing time out in the snow, so good that she’d nearly forgotten what year it was. Or that King was no longer hers.
What did I do wrong now? she wondered as she cracked the romance novel open and sank into the heavy kitchen chair.
8
King
When Effie had retired to the bedroom early, King was still buzzing with energy.
There’s no way I can handle sleeping next to her right now, he thought. To hell with how miserable it is out here.
Until midnight he oiled the hunting rifles in the den, including his grandfather’s—the same one he’d learned on.
It took all his strength to not look into the bedroom, but he wasn’t sure he could resist that temptation. Finally, he did fall asleep for a couple of hours curled onto the couch.
King awoke in the darkest of night and glanced at the massive clock over the fireplace. Almost four.
“The real witching hour,” his mother used to say. She’d recount the numerous writers who swore they had no choice but to get up and write at the hour.
He couldn’t fathom what would compel someone to work at this hour, but the cramps in his legs told him that if he didn’t stretch out he’d be nearly crippled in another day.
Defeated, he made his way down the hallway to find Effie in a tight fetal position. The fire he’d built the day before had gone cold. She’d kicked the thick comforter away and was covered with just a silk sheet and scant blanket.
King shivered in the freezing room and Effie shifted.
“You awake?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Fire went out.”
“Why didn’t you feed it? Or call me?”
Even with her back to him, he could make out the slight shrug.
Stubborn as always.
King opened his mouth to try and validate why he was there, but he was too tired. After days of this back and forth with her, he just didn’t have much fight left in him.
He pulled the comforter back onto the bed and she instantly scooted towards the heat. Her ass was so close to his midsection they were nearly spooning. For a moment, he felt that stirring, but he was too exhausted to care or do anything about it.
He honestly didn’t even know or particularly care if that option was on the table.
As King drifted into a deeper sleep, the scent of rose petals filled the area. It was like a garden surrounded her.
How can she smell so damn good after so many days of not showering?
They were both acutely aware of how close the pipes were to freezing and how quickly the warm water went to cold. It was like an unspoken agreement. Slowly, in the past couple of days, both had resigned themselves to makeshift sponge baths at best.
King slipped into a lucid state somewhere between wakefulness and dreamy sleep. He was partially aware that what he was experiencing couldn’t be true.
One moment he was sure they were in high school again and had skipped class to run away to the cabin to “play house” as Effie called it. The next moment he thought he was back in California, sure there
was nothing but blue skies and warm rays outside.
When his eyes fluttered open, he could tell it was nearly dawn and was aware of where he was—and who he was with. Now Effie’s ass really was pressed against him.
He was already hard, but his wakefulness and the emerging outline of her body in the morning light… they brought him to an entirely new level of arousal.
Even the slightest shift was going to put him over the edge. It was enough with her steady, deep breathing. He couldn’t tell if she was really asleep or faking it.
If she’s awake, why isn’t she moving away? Is she waiting for me to do something?
He imagined how easy it would be to take her right then. She’d pulled on a pair of his old basketball shorts that were four sizes too big. Already, he could tell they’d fallen halfway down. He was pressed directly into her underwear, his own thin flannel pajamas and her slip of satin the only barrier between them.
King could easily hook a finger through her bikini underwear and pull them down. It was something he’d always loved about her body, how petite and slight she was compared to him. Lifting her, moving her, it had always been easy. He’d grip her tiny waist in his hand and pull her right onto his cock.
Even though it had been years, he could still remember how unbelievably wet she got. King could almost hear her light moans, nearly mewls, as he started to fuck her. The way her nipple rolled between his fingers, and how she’d begin to pant as her wetness covered his length and began to drop down her thighs.
Knock it the fuck off, he told himself. She’s Thorne’s fiancée. Maybe not for much longer, but at least for now. And she’s already burned you once before.
It felt like a trap, her so close and those slender shoulders rising and falling. As carefully as he could, he pulled away from Effie and slid off the side of the bed.
His erection was painful as he stood up, but there wasn’t time to wait around for it to fade. He had to get out of there, immediately.
Clearly, your emotional impotence isn’t impacting your physical one, he thought to himself as he limped down the hallway.
In the living room, King stoked the fire as he watched the sun creep over the horizon. He was en route to the kitchen to start the coffee when he heard a slight scraping at the door.
What the hell? He crept towards the door, sure he would find Thorne or his mom shuffling for keys. This is the last thing I need.
He couldn’t see anyone through the peephole, and there were no new cars in the driveway. Slowly, he opened the door, braced for whatever he might find.
King could remember the summer years ago when a wounded hunter had made his way to their door, their leg somehow impaled on a tree limb. His mom had taken care of that, thank god. King couldn’t even remember where the first aid kit was kept.
He let out a sigh of relief when he saw a small rabbit in at the far end of the porch. It was a pure ball of fluff, but tiny, surely still a kit. Even from the distance, he could see how it held one paw askew, though he saw no blood on the snowy white fur.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said quietly. The rabbit looked at him quizzically but didn’t dare move. “Wait here.”
In the mud room, he pulled one of his boot boxes out of the cupboards.
And everyone says it’s pointless to save these, he thought.
There was still tissues inside, perfect for a quick bed. King made quiet, soothing sounds as he approached the quivering rabbit. Its black eyes widened, and it swayed slightly side to side, but it didn’t make a run for it. King couldn’t tell if it could, even if it wanted to.
It didn’t take much coaxing to get it into the box. The rabbit nestled instantly into the tissue while King closed the lid halfway.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “I know someone who can help you.”
The little animal’s nose twitched wildly, but he thought the initial fear in its eyes had faded. For better or worse, it seemed like the rabbit had resigned itself to whatever came next.
Sometimes I guess you just have to trust your best option.
It weighed even less than he thought it would. As he walked down the hall towards the bedroom, he realized he’d never been so aware of his movement. It took a different kind of grace to carry the box with the little life inside with minimal disruptions.
“Effie?” he asked in the doorway. “You up?”
She groaned.
“No,” she said clearly.
“Well, you have to be. There’s someone you need to meet.”
She shot upright in bed, eyes wide. “What? Who? Who’s here—”
“Shh,” he said, and held up the box. “In here.”
“What… your shoes? Did you seriously get me up to look at—”
“It’s a rabbit.”
“A what?”
“You know. Like a bunny?”
“Why do you have a rabbit?” she asked, but she was already clamoring out of bed. Her usual modesty of making sure her arms were crossed over her chest when she was in one of his thin tee-shirts was gone.
As focused on the rabbit as he was, he couldn’t help but notice her nipples harden against the cotton as soon as she emerged from the comforter.
“I found him outside. I think he’s hurt.”
“Let me see.” Effie lifted the lid gingerly and peered at the little furball. The rabbit looked up at her, intrigued. “Let’s take him in the kitchen.”
King put the box on the table and stepped aside as Effie scooped up the rabbit. He saw that familiar softness wash over her face. It was the same expression he remembered in high school when he watched her with her FFA projects or when she told him about her internship at the local veterinary clinic.
Maybe I was wrong. She’s not so hardened after all, he thought.
At first, he could tell the rabbit was frightened, but as she cooed and began to examine it, the rabbit cuddled into her hands.
“Well, you were right,” she said and looked up at him with a smile. “He’s a boy.”
“It was just a guess. Is… is his foot broken?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said quietly as she lightly fingered the paw. “It’s badly sprained, though.”
“So what does that mean?”
“I’m guessing he was separated from his mother. He’s still a bit too young to be out on his own. Probably lost her in the storm. She may come looking for him, but at this point he’s going to smell too much like humans for her to accept him.”
“Oh, fuck, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s not your fault,” she said gently. “Even if I was the one who found him, I’d need to touch him to see what’s wrong. It’s okay, he doesn’t need his family to survive.”
That makes two of us. “So … what do we do?”
“He basically just needs a warm, safe place, food and water until the sprain heals on its own.”
“So, here, then.”
“Well, yeah. Probably.”
“What… what do rabbits eat?”
She raised a brow at him. “You never watched Bugs Bunny?”
“Carrots?”
“Well, in terms of what we have, yeah. Vegetables. Fruits. Grass, hay. We might be able to find some suitable grass out there for him. But I think we have plenty of fruits and veggies for such a little guy. The important thing is to keep him confined so he’s not tempted to use his leg. He’s basically resting it just like with a human sprain, but we can’t exactly explain to him that he can’t use his paw for awhile.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” she said. “What were you expecting, me to MacGyver some kind of tiny cast for him?”
“I don’t know,” King said. “I… I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did what you were supposed to. You brought him inside. Can you find something that might work as a good sized water bowl for him?”
King rushed to the cupboards, happy to have a task. Something to do.
“What else?” he asked. He glanced
at Effie, who gazed lovingly at the fluff in her hands.
“Uh, see what veggies we have? Cut up maybe a quarter of a cup? It doesn’t need to be bite sized, it’s good for him to use his teeth while he’s still developing.”
He watched Effie’s reflection in the kitchen window as he sliced up a medley of vegetables. Already, he could tell the rabbit had claimed Effie as his own. Not that he could blame him.
It was strange, he’d only found the rabbit less than an hour ago, but already he commiserated with him greatly. There really wasn’t that much difference between them.
Stupid, really, he thought to himself as he brushed the last of the veggies off the knife and into a little bowl. To be so trusting with her. The rabbit didn’t even know her, and entrusted his life with her. Well, not me. Not this time.
Silently, he brought the bowls of water and vegetables to Effie. She gestured for him to put them in the boot box. When she tried to put the rabbit in the box, it refused and nuzzled closer into the heat of her palm.
You have to be smarter this time, he told himself.
But it was hard, trying not to fall for the loving nature she displayed. It was so easy to get caught up in wanting that attention from her. The rabbit might not know better, but King did.
After all, she’d already shown her true colors once. If she screwed him over again, it would all be on him.
He won’t be hurt again by her, no matter what. Finally, the rabbit acquiesced and let her usher him into the boot box.
9
Effie
Effie watched King’s back retreat into the snowy woods. Even in heavy camouflage, his rifle at his side, it was clear to see the V-shaped outline of his body.
“How late will you be?” she’d asked as he pulled on his boots.
“However long it takes to find us some dinner.”
“Don’t shoot any rabbits,” she’d said, and looked at him pointedly.
King had rolled his eyes at her, but she could tell in his expression that he knew better. She had to admit that it was getting old eating nothing but canned food and the last of the perishable items going bad in the cupboards. She’d dreamt of a roasted fowl dinner the night before and her mouth watered at the idea.