by R. J. Blain
“I know. But they’ve got it covered. Everyone in town has it covered.”
“You sure? The place might be a mess by the time we get back.”
“That’s okay. Life is messy. So is Ordinary.”
He shot me a glance, then stretched his hand out over the console toward me. “It’s going to be okay.”
“It is.” I waited, because I could tell he was just bursting with the need to tell me all about the cabin he’d rented. “So,” I said. “Tell me about the place you picked.”
He exhaled and grinned. “You sure you want to know? Or would you rather it be a surprise?”
“We’ve got four hours of driving—”
“—at least five—”
“—at least five hours of driving, and we’re trying to shoot the gap between storms. Talk to me, Ryder. Tell me about our first vacation place together.”
“For starters, it has no monsters.”
I laughed. “I like it already.”
“And it’s out past the Three Sisters, in the middle of nowhere facing a fir grove with a stream.”
“Pretty.”
“Solitude. It’s going to be peaceful and quiet. Just the two of us, a hot tub, some wine, and the falling snow.”
I sighed and leaned my head against the window. That sounded perfect. I had to stretch my arm a bit to keep hold of his hand, but I was fine with that. More than fine with that because I didn’t want to let go.
“What else?” I asked, feeling my eyes close. It had been a long day, a long winter. Hell, it had been a long year. Just knowing that I didn’t have to save anyone, protect anything, or bear the responsibilities of gods, supernaturals, and humans for a few days made me feel light. Like I was floating.
My head bumped something hard, and I woke up with a snort. “Whatsit?”
“Just the road,” Ryder said. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No. It’s okay,” I said taking stock of my surroundings. Ryder had tossed the Pendleton blanket over my lap and one shoulder. The radio was low, playing a soft Pink Floyd song about earthbound misfits. The world around us was pure, bracing white.
“Snow,” I said, unnecessarily.
“Yep.”
“Wow. It’s really coming down.”
“We’re still on the leading edge of the storm.” He pointed at his cell. “It’s going to really hit and hunker down in about an hour.”
“How long until the cabin?”
“About an hour.” He slid me a grin.
“You do like to live an exciting life, Ryder Bailey.”
“I do. Now that you’re awake, would you pour us some coffee? Thermos is there at your feet, and snacks are in that bag.”
“Look at you, thinking of everything. Front seat picnic. I like it.” I refilled his travel mug and mine, then dug around until I found the chocolate and chips.
“So you like it so far?” Ryder asked. “Our vacation?”
I held up coffee in one hand and a candy bar in the other. “What’s not to like?”
“Okay, okay, good. I just really want you to like it.”
“I’ll really like it.”
“No matter how it turns out.”
“As long as it’s you and me and solitude and in the middle of nowhere, it’s gonna be perfect. Heaven.”
“Better than bungee jumping?”
I almost spit my coffee. “Anything’s better than bungee jumping. What were you thinking?”
“Got your attention, didn’t it?”
“Sure, but how is stepping off a cliff a good vacation activity?”
“If you stepped off a cliff, I’d be right behind you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.”
He puffed out his chest looking proud of himself.
“And stupid.”
He deflated, but there was still a little smile on his face. “You thought it was romantic.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“For a second you did. Just like you think this little tryst is romantic.”
“Is that what this is, a tryst?”
“It’s going to be private, it’s going to be romantic, and we are lovers, so yes, I’d say this is the very definition of a tryst.”
“I’m just glad there won’t be any more brochures.”
“You liked those too. Plus, I was very subtle.”
“You taped them to the bathroom mirror.”
“Yeah.”
“You left them all over the refrigerator.”
“Yeah.”
“You left them in the refrigerator.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“No.” I took a sip of coffee, then said, “Yes.”
“Good. Now look for our turn off. The owners said they’d stick an orange traffic cone on either side of the road.”
I peered into the falling snow. It was almost dark, and the clouds made it darker. The towering ponderosa and jack pines were smothered in white, their branches drooping heavily from the weight of the snow. There were several vehicles in front of us: three eighteen wheelers trying to get their deliveries through, a truck like the one we were in, and one tiny compact that was tailgating the snowplow.
Oregon was a state of mountains and ranges and hills and canyons. When snow hit, and hit hard, the roads were dangerous enough that the passes were closed a few times a year.
“What if we get snowed in?” I asked.
“Extra vacation days? Think you can handle it?”
Yeah, I thought I could. It might take me a few days to let go of being the go-to problem solver, but I was determined to relax, really relax, even if it killed me.
“There.” I pointed at the turn off, and Ryder tapped the brakes, bringing our already slow progress to a crawl.
He guided the truck into the turn, and we quickly left the narrow four-lane highway behind. The jack and ponderosa pines here were closer to the skinny two-lane road. Snow had piled outward from each shoulder, narrowing the road even further.
“How will we know our place?” I asked.
“It’s a few miles in, after a little bridge.”
A few miles took a lot longer at the speed we were going, but we finally crossed the bridge.
The little cabin was a gorgeous, compact A-frame made of big, beautiful old logs. The porch was tucked out of the weather and had a lovely hand-carved bench beside the door.
“This is it!” Ryder pulled the truck alongside the cabin. “What do you think?”
His eyes were bright with excitement, and his lips were swollen because he’d been worrying at them during the drive.
All I wanted to do was kiss him and get him in bed. Naked. With me.
“What are you thinking about right now, soon-to-be Mrs. Bailey-Reed?” he asked.
“Hyphenate, huh? You think so?” I reached over and tugged on the collar of his flannel.
“Well, you do have this family name to live up to. All those Reeds in history doing all that fancy god power stuff.”
“You think I’m fancy?”
He was leaning close, closer. I was stretching out to him, turning so I didn’t have to fight my seatbelt.
“I think you’re the most amazing thing in the universe,” he said.
His eyes were so close to mine, I could see the nebula array of stars there, in greens and golds. So close, I could see my heart reflected in them.
“I love you,” I said. Before he could reply, I took his mouth and claimed him as mine, telling him with touch, with taste, with desire, that he was all I needed. Telling him he couldn’t leave me because we were just at the beginning of this thing called us, just at the beginning of our lives together.
I wanted years and years of it.
With him.
Only him.
“Wow,” he said. “I’m taking you out into the middle of nowhere more often.”
“Good,” I said, kissing him once more just because I could. “See that you do that.”
I opened the door and full-on girly-shrieked f
rom the cold. “You have the key, right?”
He handed me his phone. “Lock box code right there.”
I jumped out, glad I was still wearing my work boots, but wishing I’d added a scarf and gloves. I pulled a beanie out of my pocket and stuck it on my head, pulling it over my ears. Then I made a dash for the door.
Snow smacked cold kisses against my cheeks, nose, and chin. The air smelled crisp and fresh and clean. I “eeked” again, just to hear Ryder laugh.
He was out of the truck, slamming open the tailgate. There was the sound of luggage dragging across the truck bed, then thunking into the snow, grocery bags rustling around.
I punched in the numbers, excited for the moment, excited for the experience.
Just Ryder and me.
No dragon pig or Spud to take care of—though I would probably miss them.
No gods to keep in line.
No supernaturals to guide.
No people to look after.
No Valkyrie and her never-ending community events.
As long as the heat worked and the roof didn’t leak, everything about this was going to be perfect.
Solitude.
Just the two of us.
Heaven.
I lifted the latch but waited until the crunch-crunch-crunch of Ryder’s footsteps came near.
“Everything okay?” he asked, as he stomped snow off the soles of his boots.
“Just waiting for you. Ready?”
He smiled. “Ready.”
I pushed open the door and stepped through.
The first thing that hit me was the wall of windows filling the entire back side of the cabin from floor to pointed peak.
After that, I noted the deck, the hot tub just a few steps up on a second, connected deck, and the snow-covered trees surrounding it. Beyond the trees, I caught a glimpse of the circular clearing below, and the still flowing stream winding through it.
“Oh,” I said, breathing out the word. “This is wonderful.”
Ryder stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around mine.
“You like?”
“Very much.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Good. Because we have a lot of unpacking to do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Turned out I liked vacations. Who knew? The unpacking had been quick and would have been quicker if Ryder hadn’t put his face in the way of the snowball I was totally just randomly throwing in his general direction.
Cue one massive snowball fight.
“Which I totally won!” I said, flicking hot tub water at Ryder’s face.
“The best fiancé in the world prize?” Ryder asked, unperturbed by his wet face. “Yes. Yes, you did.”
“No. The snowball fight. I won it.”
He raised one eyebrow and tipped back his wine glass. “You must be drunk. You lost.”
I was not drunk. Maybe a little floaty, but it would take more than one glass of wine after that fabulous roast we’d had for dinner to get me anywhere near drunk territory.
“Lies.” More wine sounded good, so I tipped back my glass. It was empty, darn it. “I can tell when anyone is lying, Ryder Bailey. I am an officer of the law and have a finely honed bullshit meter. I won that fight fair and square.”
“No,” he shifted forward and all the water in the hot tub sloshed, some of it pitching over the edge to land on the snowy deck. “I distinctly remember sitting on you and pinning your arms until you cried uncle.”
“Yes, but I let you.”
“You let me smash snow in your face?”
“It only seemed fair with how badly you were losing.”
He crowded up in front of me, his hands slipping under the water to curve against my ribs before running down my waist to my stomach, my thighs.
“Mmmm,” I hummed, pushing my arms out of the water to drape them along the tub’s ledge. “That’s nice. Come here.”
“I am here.” His hands wandered and I fought the urge to arch my back into his touch.
“Come closer here,” I said.
He moved in closer, his pupils blown wide, his mouth soft. I loved that look on him. Like he was staring at the one thing in the world he desired, and that one thing was me.
He bent his head to kiss my neck, and I scooped up a huge handful of snow and smooshed it against the back of his head.
He howled. I scrabbled out from under him as fast as I could move.
He dunked under to get rid of the snow stuck in his hair. By the time he surfaced, I was out of the tub, and had my loose, long sweater over my head. I was already sticking my arms into my coat.
“You are going to pay for that.” He rose up out of that hot tub like an artist’s vision of a Greek god, steam curling away from that fine, fine body of his.
“Winner,” I said, pointing at my chest while I stomped my wet, cold feet into my dry, cold boots. “Loser.” I double-gunned my fingers at him then I made a dash for the stairs.
“Oh, run as far as you like.” Ryder’s voice was as low and dark as winter honey. “No one’s gonna hear you scream way out here. Plus, I know where you’re sleeping tonight.”
“Who said anything about sleeping?” I was at the sliding glass door, my hand on the handle.
He hadn’t even put on his shirt yet, so I wisely spent a portion of my escape time ogling his muscles. My heart thrummed and every nerve in my body zinged with joy, and need, and, okay, a glass of wine.
“You think that’s how it’s gonna go?” he asked. “I’m just going to forgive your betrayal and let you ravage my body?”
“Nothing you can do about it,” I said. “Winners make the rules.”
A scream broke through the night, freezing us both in place. The adrenalin pumping through my veins switched to danger, save, protect.
“Shit,” I tugged the door open and ran into the house, searching for my gun.
Ryder was on my heels, his shirt only over one arm so far, his boots in his hands.
“Cell reception?” I took the time to kick off my boots and get into pants. I couldn’t help anyone if I went out there with my pants off and froze to death.
“Out on the main road.” He was in his pants, shoving his feet in boots, but still hadn’t gotten his other arm in the shirt. “And no, I’m not calling in the cavalry while you go out into a dark forest on your own.”
“I can take care—”
“I know. The answer’s still no.” He tossed a hat and gloves my way. “We do this together. Got that, Mrs. Hyphen Reed?”
I wanted to be annoyed, but he was doing the right thing, making the right choice. In extreme conditions like this, bad weather, terrible visibility, out in the middle of nowhere, it was stupid to split up before we knew what we were dealing with.
“Fine.”
A second scream called out, this one lower, more guttural.
We scrambled into our gear, grabbed the emergency flashlights hanging near the sliding door, and pushed into the night with speed.
My head had been a little floaty from the wine but was now brutally clear as I jogged down the deck steps and onto the new fallen snow, flashlight turning the white into diamonds, crystals, glitter.
I took three steps and immediately sank up to my knees. “Sonofabitch,” I growled. “It came from over there, right?”
“I think so. The clearing.”
Another scream busted through the stillness. I angled in that direction, lifting my knees almost to my chin for each step, trying to break a path as quickly and quietly as possible and despairing that I could accomplish neither.
“There,” Ryder pointed. “I see light.”
I followed his hand and made for the line of trees to our right.
My breathing was loud in my ears, my heart hammering so hard, I could feel it in my throat.
Another scream called out, then another, and I broke into an awkward run, the only thought in my head to protect, to save, to help whoever was out here, in the middle of nowhere, screaming in the night wh
ere no living being could hear them.
The trees lined the edge of a hill and peppered down the slope. I was willing to throw myself down that hill, skate, sled, slip and slide to the bottom and deal with whatever danger I found there.
But Ryder’s big hand grabbed at my arm, missed, and hooked the edge of my coat instead.
“We have to—” I said.
He pulled me toward him, only letting go when both our shoulders were against a tree trunk, angled so that we could see the glade below.
“Look,” he said.
It took me a second, all my senses hopped up and running through disaster scenarios. Kidnapping, murder, torture, all equal possibilities in my mind.
And behind all those thoughts: Don’t let Ryder get hurt. Don’t let him be taken away from me yet. Please, not yet.
But the sight that greeted me was not a murder scene. Or at least not like any I’d ever seen before.
The clearing was filled with lights, and all of those lights were moving.
My brain simply couldn’t make any sense of what was happening.
“What… is that?” I gasped, swallowing hard because gulping down that much frozen air during our run had done a job on my throat and lungs. “What’s going on with those people?”
Ryder was breathing hard next to me. I heard the dry click of his throat before he said. “I don’t think they’re people.”
“What do you…?” Then my brain snapped it together.
The clearing was a circular grove. A wide stream cracked through it, water reflecting the lights moving along both banks, lights which were attached to people.
Or, yeah, maybe not humans, but human-like creatures.
One of them warbled, another screeched like an owl, and then there was a song, made of growls and grunts and whistles and hums, a wild, deep, fluid thing that turned the sounds of nature into a symphony.
Like no song I’d ever heard before.
“Bigfoots,” Ryder breathed. “Is this… Flip was going to a reunion, right?”
I nodded.
“Is this it? The Bigfoots’ family reunion, or gathering of the clans, or…?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never asked him where it was exactly. I didn’t think he’d want to say. They’re very private, the ’Foots.”
“So we should go back to the cabin?” Ryder hadn’t moved. He loved being an eyewitness to all the supernaturals in Ordinary who made up the stories and myths he’d been reading since he was a kid.