by Claire Adams
"I was going to call in tomorrow to say that I wasn't coming in. Neither of us were hurt, and the cabin's stocked with enough supplies to last us the few days it will take for the snow to clear. There was no immediate danger, so I didn't say anything."
"No immediate danger?" he repeated. "When did you find out about the storm?"
"I heard the weather report Friday morning and told Cameron myself, but he didn't care. He was resolved to stick it out on his own up here, so I did the next best thing and brought the supplies to him myself."
"Goddammit, Cameron," he said to himself. "Where is he now?"
"Inside the cabin. He's fine, Brett. He has enough firewood and food to make sure he doesn't freeze or starve to death. The snow's too deep for him to think of trying to take his truck out, and despite everything, I think he actually likes it out here."
"Oh no. Don't tell me that, Natalie."
"I'm sorry, Brett. I think he found whatever it was he came out here looking for."
"That's well and good unless he decides he prefers chopping firewood and spearfishing to his actual job. This little vacation of his is supposed to be temporary." I swallowed. Finally, he had gotten to the point. I had had a chance on Friday to talk to him about the company, and I hadn't done it. I had had another one yesterday, and I hadn't done it then either. We had talked about my family, his family, my ex, basically nothing that I had actually needed to say to him.
"I realize that, Brett. I'm pretty sure he does too."
"Reminding him won't hurt. He said he needed time to think; he can spend his time thinking about that."
"Okay," I said quietly, wishing that I hadn't picked the phone up. I didn't want to go back in there and bring that up with Cameron. It was clear what he wanted; why were the people around him so adamant about trapping him in a job he didn't want? I felt bad being here knowing I had promised to come on Friday to talk to him about it. But then, I felt bad about not doing what Brett had asked me either. This whole situation was one big gray area. Each side was right and wrong at the same time, and I didn't know who I was supposed to support.
"We need him."
"Has there been more trouble with the stockholders?"
"There will be the longer it takes to coax him down off that mountain," he said. "How's he doing up there?"
"Surprisingly well," I said honestly.
"Perfect... Just great," he said. "I didn't think he would stick to this scheme of his so long. I've never known him to be a quitter, but I had wanted to chalk this whole thing up to him losing his parents. Cracking under the pressure and not knowing how to cope. He always disappeared into himself, but he's never isolated like this before. I don't know whether I should be worried." This must have been hard for him too, I realized. Brett was worried about the business, holding it together for his dead friend while the man's son hid out in the mountains because he had to. He had promised Cameron and probably promised the late Mr. Porter, too. At the same time, he cared for Cameron, past just his value to the company.
"I think he just needs time."
"We all do, but he's running out. He needs to know that. It's not fair, but it's what had to happen if Porter Holdings is expected to have a future."
Why was I out here? How had I gotten roped into this? All this inheritance and duty stuff was like another language to me. I could sympathize, but I couldn't relate. Why did he think I would have an impact on whether or not Cameron finally came to his senses? I had no idea what I could say to convince him and just thinking about goading him into going back to something he clearly didn't want made me feel disgusting.
"I'll do what I can, but I can't make any promises."
"Just do what you can. Oh, and take care of him out there. I don't know what he was thinking heading up there in the winter. Now you're stuck up there too." I knew a thing or two about dealing with sub-zero temperatures in the middle of nowhere, but I decided to keep that to myself.
"I'll do my best," I said weakly. He didn't need a caretaker. I didn't know what he needed, but it wasn't me or Brett breathing down his neck to go back to Salt Lake City. I had told Brett that I would talk to him about the company, and I hadn't. That had been wrong, but even he had to have known asking me to do that how reluctant Cameron was about all this. I didn't want to be another person pushing him towards a future he didn't want, but who was I kidding? That was exactly who I was. We wouldn't have ever spoken if I hadn't been part of the plan to put him at the head of Porter Holdings where he didn't want to be. I reassured Brett again that I would talk to him, and we hung up.
I had been outside a little while and had been getting cold. The snow wasn't falling anymore, and I had a couple layers on under my sweater but not enough. I walked back into the warmth of the cabin and saw Cameron kneeling in front of the fireplace, feeding two big logs into it.
"That took a while," he commented.
"Yeah," I said, almost apologizing.
"Can I ask who it was?"
"It was Brett." He was facing away from me, so I didn't see his reaction to the news if he had had one.
"Did he ask about me?"
"Yes."
"What did he want?"
"He wanted to know how you were. He heard about the storm and was worried about you." He made a noncommittal sound, and dusting his hands off, he stood back up. God, you should have just told him it was Kasey wanting to talk about eyeshadow or something, I thought. Great. Yeah, add some lies into the mix, like it isn't already bad enough what you're doing to the guy.
"Maybe I should have brought that phone with me," he said, almost to himself. "Is he sending a rescue chopper?"
"No. He just wanted to know you were okay."
"Was that all he wanted to know?" he asked.
"He asked me to take care of you. I think he thinks you're half-starved up here. He supports you, but he knows how rough winters at this elevation can be." He made another noncommittal sound. Shit, he knows, I thought.
"The old man wants me to go back. He probably has money down on how long I'd be up here."
"Is there any more of that hot chocolate left?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
"Yeah. Your cup got a little cold while you were out. I can heat it back up for you if you want." I said I did, anything to get us away from Brett and the company. I'd tell him—but not yet. I wouldn't have a choice at some point, but just then, I did. I was looking at at least a couple more days before I could leave. I didn't want to spend them badgering him about the company. I wanted us to talk. I liked talking to him. I was beginning to like him, the person he was behind the image, the famous family and the massive fortune. He was just a guy under that all, one who was more interesting than I had ever given him credit for. When would I ever have him in this position again? Once the snow cleared, it would be over. I'd do it. I would, just not yet.
Chapter Nineteen
Cameron
The couch wasn't that bad. It wasn't great, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't lumpy, at least there was that. It was almost long enough to take my height, and I was close to the fire. Close to the fire, yeah, which meant far away from her. It was morning. I didn’t know how early, but I had just woken up. The sound of Natalie coming down from the loft was what had gotten me up. She was in the shower. Two nights down. I was getting the hang of this.
Nothing had happened between us. We had spent the last couple days together and the last couple nights very far apart. The snow was still making the roads up here impassable, so I had a few more days and nights like that to look forward to. We cooked, talked, hung out—wholesome activities only. No inappropriate touching, or looking, none of that, but plenty of dirty thoughts.
For fuck’s sake, she was right there, all the time. She was gorgeous; I wished I was better than the things I thought about doing to her, but I wasn’t. It was insane, how much I wanted to peel all her layers off and fuck her. Did she feel the same? If she did, then I could stop feeling guilty about what went through my head when I
remembered she was naked in the bathroom right then. Does she feel anything at all? I wondered, folding my blankets and clearing the couch so we'd be able to sit when we had breakfast.
If she did, I wasn't saying anything would happen; I was just curious. If she did, then you'd have no problem, I thought. No worries that she didn't feel the same, and it would make things awkward. That was one way to look at it, but what were we looking at here realistically if something did happen? A couple days fucking on every surface and against every wall in the cabin, maybe, but that was it. She’d leave eventually. Whatever happened, if anything, wouldn’t lead to a relationship. With me up here and her down in Provo? People made long distance relationships across continents work, but I didn't want that.
Long distance was only worth it if you knew you were going to be together again. I wouldn't want that unless there was a good reason we had to be apart. What counted as a good reason? Nothing was going to happen. We weren't actually going to do anything, so it didn't matter that I was thinking about it. A good reason... shit, besides work I couldn't think of any. Unless deployment was on the table, but neither of us served. So then what? Would I move because I wanted to be with her? Would she move so she could be with me, hypothetically?
The bathroom door unlocked and opened up a crack.
"Cameron?"
"What?" I asked, looking over at the bathroom door. Her head poked out of it, and steam from the heat of her shower wafted out.
"I forgot to bring a towel down; could you hand me one please?" she asked. So much for trying not to imagine her naked. I went up to the loft where the closet was and pulled one out, bringing it back down with me. "Thanks," she said, reaching for it. She was behind the door but had to pull it open more to take the towel. The mirror in the bathroom behind her was foggy, but not foggy enough that I couldn't make out her back, ass, and legs in it.
"You're welcome,” I said quickly, walking away. Boundaries. Limits. I was past trying to stop thinking about her, but crossing the line into being a creep was out of the question. We had to trust each other for this to work. She had to trust me not to do shit like that, but fuck, I didn't even trust myself not to try to get another glimpse of her naked after that.
All that hypothetical shit was dangerous. I knew what I wanted, and it couldn't happen. It wouldn't be fair to her. Okay, but what about what she wanted? You haven't even asked her, so how do you know? Maybe she isn't looking for anything more than a couple nights of fun, and you're overreacting instead of giving them to her.
The bathroom door opened again, and Natalie walked out, drying her wet hair. Seeing her, I realized I hadn't even started making breakfast yet. No, I had been thinking about the pros and cons of fucking her.
"Hungry?" I asked her, clearing my throat. If she knew even half of what I thought about her, she’d have grounds to call the fucking cops.
"Not really. I could use some coffee though," she said. I filled the percolator to give me something to do that wasn't staring at her. She started talking, telling me about the weather, talking about the temperature. I barely heard her trying my damnedest not to embarrass myself in that kitchen. There could never in history have been a worse time to get hard. She headed up to the loft briefly, and the coffee was ready by the time she came back down. She walked over to the deck and opened the door instead of sitting after I handed her her mug.
"How much land do you have up here?" she asked, looking outside. The cabin was warm compared to the air that blew in from the open door.
"An acre or so," I said. I wasn't sure of how much exactly. I knew now that I should have paid more attention to my realtor telling me this stuff, but I hadn't. It was good luck and intervention that had gotten me this far because none of it had been common sense.
"Have you gotten a look at the rest of the property? You could probably do something with it." I walked over to the open door and looked out of it with her. Snow, snow, and more snow. At least it wasn't falling though, and the wind didn't seem to be too bad.
"Do something like what?"
"Whatever you want," she said with a shrug. "Put more buildings up. Add to the cabin. Raise chickens."
"Chickens?"
"Yeah. Raise animals and plant your own vegetable patch so you never have to go into town again."
"I don’t know about all that," I said, looking around. Some people had to live like that, I knew, but as much as I had been here for a little while already, I couldn't tell whether I still would be a year from now. Not even a month from now. There was all the bullshit with the company, but even if that wasn't on the table, I didn't know whether this was it for me. I liked the solitude and relying on myself, but I already knew what I would potentially be missing out on if I stayed here.
"Growing up, my mother baked all the bread that we ate," she said. "We ate eggs from her chickens, and when she got her goats, we stopped buying milk from a neighboring farm." She had told me that her parents had done the homestead thing. The thought was cute, but it was just me up here. If you had a family, I could see the appeal, but how many damn eggs did I need? It probably saved money and the hassle of driving into town, but I didn’t want that, I soon realized. There was a fine line between what I wanted and being a hermit. I didn’t mind going into town; I just wanted the option to get away from it when I needed to be.
"Did you ever want to do that?"
"No," she said hastily. "My parents wanted a big family that they raised knowing how to live off the land. It was rewarding to them to live that way. For me..." she trailed off.
"You like your milk pasteurized and your eggs from a store?" I asked. She smiled slightly.
"Yeah, but I wanted to see whether there was more. They loved their small town, their ranch, their neighbors and animals, all of it, but it was theirs. I wanted to see what I wanted." I could understand that. She had left her home to find her way, and she had. I had my life planned out for me. I didn't have that option. Well, I never thought that I had it. If I sold out of the company, then I could do whatever I wanted. I could stay here, leave, go back to school, anything. I had never had that kind of freedom, I realized. It had never been an option for me. ‘Til now.
"I was thinking about shoveling today," I said to her.
"Yeah? Do you want help?"
"I only have one shovel," I said, closing the door to the deck.
"Then we can take turns," she said. We ended up agreeing that she'd take the snow that had blown onto the deck and the porch, and I would do the driveway getting enough snow out from around our cars to reduce the amount of ice that would end up forming. The cover was more than a foot deep. I concentrated on freeing our cars and moving as much of the loose snow as possible. The more we let pile on, the worse it would end up being in the end.
A little more than an hour later, Natalie was coming down the stairs with a cup of hot coffee for me. We took a break and started talking as I had my coffee. Five minutes turned into ten, then into twenty, then we were walking around the back of the house to see more of the property. I couldn't wait to see what it looked like without all the snow. Maybe I would be here when it warmed up next year. The place was mine; I could come up here whenever I wanted.
And she could too, I thought. You know, if she wanted to. She could visit if she wanted to come by, take a few days off from time in the city. I didn't know what I wanted. I had come up here to figure it out, but I did know that whatever happened, I didn’t want to stop talking to Natalie. These were special circumstances. I knew that she wouldn't always be around all day whenever I wanted to see her so we could talk, but she was here now, and while we had the time, I was making the most of it.
"Ugh, it was a nightmare," Natalie said, responding to my question about what it had been like growing up with four older brothers.
"Do they know you feel like that?" I asked, laughing.
"They probably felt the same way having a whiny little sister who wanted to play with them but couldn't keep up."
"So what di
d you do?"
"Told on them," she said, smiling a little. "Oliver is just a year and a half older than I am, so he always got stuck playing with me when Aaron, Marc, and Derrick didn't want to. I used to get so sore when they made fun of me for being a girl; I didn't wear dresses or makeup ‘til after I went to college."
"Stop it."
"I swear," she said, "if you saw a picture of me in high school, you wouldn't recognize me. I had the Arya Stark haircut ‘til I was eighteen."
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" I said. I couldn’t picture it. She hadn’t been wearing makeup while she was here, but even bare-faced, wrapped in scarves and coats, I didn’t see that girl she used to be. Allegedly used to be; I’d believe her when I saw pictures.
"I could say the same about you. All I knew about you was you were Mr. Porter’s son. I thought you had to be entitled, spoiled, and arrogant."
"Shit, don't hold back," I said, laughing.
"It was before we talked. I judged you unfairly. I know that now, and I'm sorry about that."
"I think I was wrong about you," I said.
"How?" she asked.
"I thought you were…" I paused. Did I really want to bring it up? She hadn’t all this time, and if I did, she would want to talk about it. I appreciated that she had had all this time to bring up work and she hadn’t. I felt like she understood, or at least respected that I had come up here because I had needed time and space from all that shit. For a while, I had thought of her as just a pawn for Brett, to help him wear me down enough to come back, but I had been wrong. I could have told her, but I decided to keep that one to myself.