The Lonely Girl in the Cabin (The Lonely Girl Series Book 2)

by Autumn Skye

  The Lonely Girl in the Cabin

  By Autumn Skye

  Copyright September 2017

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter One

  Lily

  I needed a break. My best friend, Farah, and I could agree on that much. Where we differed in opinion was how I should spend my time away from the office. Farah was the adventuresome type. She loved to travel, didn’t even care where she wound up when she hit the road. Not only was I lacking in the slightest sense of spontaneity, I much preferred playing the homebody. I planned to take a two-week vacation and lie around my tiny apartment reading or watching television. I was going to drink the bottle of fancy red wine Farah had bought me for my birthday and order Chinese takeout. I was excited at the prospect of living in my robe and sweat pants, but that wasn’t good enough for Farah. You’d have thought by her reaction that it was her time off I was squandering.

  Farah was more than a friend. She was also my boss. We both worked at Jackson’s Advertisement agency. She’s in the executive marketing department and I’d worked as her personal secretary for two years. That didn’t give her the right to tell me what to do with my hard-earned vacation time, but she sure liked to act as if it did. I let it slide because I knew she had my best interest at heart, although I didn’t appreciate it when she decided to spend our lunch hour lecturing me.

  We met at our usual place, a sandwich shop a few blocks from the office complex. Normally we’d have gone together, but she had a meeting that ran late, so I went on without her and got us a table. I took the initiative of ordering for her. While Farah loved telling me I didn’t have enough variety in my life, there were still some things about her which were completely predictable as well, like the fact that she never tired of eating ham and cheese subs every day. Some lucky people didn’t have to worry about their waistlines. Her diet sure never effected hers.

  She wound up being thirty minutes late. I was already half finished with my meal when she sat down in the seat across from mine. She was on salary and had the luxury of taking lunch any time she chose. I, on the other hand, punched the clock, so we had maybe fifteen minutes left to talk before I had to rush back to work.

  She dived straight into her preaching, wasting no time. “About this vacation of yours, I refuse to let you spend it lying around your apartment, hiding from the world.”

  “What else am I supposed to do on my budget, fly to Aruba?” I countered.

  We both lived in the metropolitan area of Houston’s Sugarland district. The rent wasn’t cheap. She had a lavish loft apartment. I had a not so impressive studio place. It wasn’t bad, but it was expensive for being was it was, a tiny one bedroom. While I did manage to pay the landlord every month, it didn’t leave a lot left over for fancy trips.

  “No need to go that far,” she said. “I was thinking you could stay at the cabin. I rarely go there. In fact, I’m considering selling it, so one of us should enjoy it before I put it on the market.”

  Farah had won the cabin on the private lake in her divorce. Her husband had cheated on her, so it was fair to say she’d won most everything in the divorce. She and her ex had sold their main home and split the profit down the middle. In exchange for her not putting up a fight for it, he agreed to give her the cabin. It had been her idea to buy it in the first place and he’d wanted the divorce settled quickly so he could marry his mistress. It was a place meant for a romantic weekend for two, however. Now that she was single, she never got much use out of it.

  “What is the difference between me lying around my apartment and lying around the cabin?” I asked.

  “The scenery, for one thing. It’s beautiful and relaxing. You never know, you might meet someone.”

  “I’m not looking to meet anyone,” I scoffed.

  “That’s part of the problem. You’re young and too pretty to be alone, but you’ll stay that way if you continue locking yourself away. Trust me, Lily, this is exactly what you need.”

  She’d visited the cabin once or twice when she wanted to get away. It was on a lake about an hour out of the city, located near a small town in the direction of Corpus Christi. The lake was rather secluded in the winter months with dozens of vacant cabins surrounding the water. Summer was only now approaching. It was still likely too early in the year for a crowd. The promise of me meeting someone was an empty one, which suited me fine. I could see myself sitting on the porch reading a classic and sipping iced tea. Since it wouldn’t require me to give up my privacy, I decided to cave.

  “Okay, I guess a couple of weeks by the lake won’t hurt me.”

  “Excellent. Your vacation starts next Monday. You can leave Friday evening. Why don’t we go to the mall Thursday after work and pick you out some new clothes? You’ll need a swim suit.”

  “I can’t afford a shopping spree. What’s wrong with my old clothes if I’m just going to be in the middle of nowhere?”

  “The problem I have with your old clothes is that they’re old, for starters. Your wardrobe needs an update. Lucky for you, I’m a shopping addict. I have more clothes than I’ll ever wear. If you want to skip the mall you can come over to my place and we’ll go through them. We’re about the same size.”

  “No, we’re not,” I said, looking down at my chest. I was top heavy to put it mildly. Farah’s figure was far more svelte than mine.”

  “I’ll give you that much. You do have a hell of a set of tits. How is it that you’re single again?” she joked.

  “Apparently, I hide my body in frumpy old clothes,” I shrugged.

  “Oh, Lily, there’s no hiding that body. You just don’t go to the right places to show it off. Or perhaps I should say you don’t go anywhere, period.”

  “I still don’t see how sitting alone in a cabin is the right place. Who am I going to impress? The owls?”

  “You never know when you’ll run into someone. You might be surprised,” she grinned.

  Life was full of surprises all right, but few of them ever came my way. I supposed my friend might be right. Perhaps I needed to break away from the mundane. A change of scenery couldn’t hurt.

  That evening I sat in my easy chair in my tiny apartment and wondered if my friend was right in that I spent too much of my life inside this little shoe box. What if I did? Was that so bad? It was small, but cozy. I’d made it so with a lot of work. Decorating my home had begun as a hobby, but had turned into an obsession of sorts. Interior design was my true love. It hadn’t been a practical subject to major in, but I’d schooled myself in how to transform an average contemporary nest into a haven by studying magazines, binge watching all the home improvement channels, and bargain shopping. I’d taught myself how to sand and varnish hard wood, choose complimenting colors that would make my small space look twice as big as it was, install shelves and much more. Then came the fun part, antique hunting. I scoured the auctions and shops, bought cheap and did the restorations myself. I became an amateur florist and added splashes of color throu
ghout the studio using roses, violets, daisies, and hanging plants. I’d put up wall dividers to transform one room into two and somehow given the whole place the quaint feel you might find in a cottage sitting somewhere in a European village.

  The whole process had taken two years to accomplish. I’d loved every minute I’d dedicated to it, but it was completed now. I set my novel, a regency saga on my lap glanced around at my surroundings, my eyes searching for any flaw, no matter how minute. It was all too perfect. I’d done my job too well. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how my dedication to the project had preoccupied me. I hadn’t had the time to be bored or lonely. Now there was nothing left to do and worse, no one to see what I had done.

  I picked up my cell and hit Farah’s name on speed dial. “I’ve made a decision,” I said when she picked up.

  “Okay, what is it.”

  “I’m going to take you up on your offer and spend my vacation at the cabin.”

  “I thought that was already decided.”

  “I mean, I’m actually going to enjoy myself.”

  “You were intending to have a lousy time?”

  “No, but now I’m determined not to,” I explained.

  “Who lit a fire under you?”

  “I’m a grown woman. I can light my own fires.”

  “That’s the attitude. I’m glad to hear you getting so enthusiastic. I didn’t know you could. I’m very impressed, Lily,” she teased. “I’m still curious as to the sudden change, though. This afternoon I had to order you to go.”

  “I think your right. I’m throwing my life away.”

  “I never went as far as to say that. You have a lot going for you. I just want you to act like you’re entitled to some fun. Sometimes I think that mother of yours has you convinced you deserve to be miserable. You don’t.”

  “My mother has nothing to do with the way I live my life, Farah. If she did I’d be married to an attorney or stock broker and living off my trust fund.”

  “I still can’t get over the bitch cutting you off.”

  “I forgot about the money the day I left home. Of course, that doesn’t stop her from calling me.”

  “You’d probably be better off if it did.”

  “My mother loves me. She just thinks I’m-I don’t know- misguided,” I said defensively. No matter how complicated the relationship between my mother and me was, I always felt compelled to defend her. She only tried to do what she thought was best for me. We just disagreed on what that was ninety percent of the time.

  “You’re the misguided one? She’s got that backwards if you ask me.”

  “The important thing is you’re getting your way. I’m serious. I’m going to have an awesome vacation.”

  “That’s all that matters, then,” she said. “Don’t forget to stop by Friday and raid my closet.”

  “I won’t.”

  When I hung up my mood was lighter. I had something to anticipate and that melancholy feeling that I didn’t have much going for myself was fading to the back of my mind, for the time being. What I’d do when my trip was over and I was back sitting in this picture-perfect apartment with no one to share it with, I couldn’t say. I needed to find a new aspiration. Farah would claim what I needed was to find a new love. I had no idea that the possibility of finding both was waiting for me, or that it could be one in the same, or that I was about to head straight for it.

  Chapter Two

  Despite my reservations about Farah having anything in her huge walk-in closet that would fit me, I agreed to spend the evening at her loft Friday and see if she could come up with anything. As I’d expected, her narrow waisted shorts wouldn’t button over my curvy hips and her tank tops were too snug. Trying on clothes made for a sleek body like hers did absolutely nothing to bolster my self-image, but I was somewhat flattered that she’d believed we were so close in size.

  “I told you.”

  “Try this swim suit on,” she said ignoring my complaints and tossing me the red bikini.

  “No way. Why are we even bothering?”

  “Try it on, for heaven’s sake. It’s a bit loose on me. It might fit.”

  I wiggled of out the shorts and managed to squeeze into the suit. The bottom was a thong and the top was barely there. It covered little more than my nipples. What the hell was she thinking?

  “See, it practically shows everything mother nature gave me.”

  “It’s supposed to,” she winked.

  “I’m not wearing this.”

  “Come on, Lily, if I had your body I’d flaunt it every chance I got. Nature wasn’t nearly so generous with me.” She put a hand to her chest. Her breasts were small and perky. I’d have gladly traded her some of my curves for a couple inches of her height.

  “I might as well be naked,” I said, peering into the full-length mirror hung on her bedroom wall. “It’s indecent.”

  “It’s sexy as all hell and you know it.”

  “Why is this so important to you?”

  “Because you’re important to me and the nicer you look the better you’ll feel.”

  “I don’t see what the big deal is. I could just wear one of my old suits,” I replied.

  “Why worry about showing a little skin?”

  “A little? I look ridiculous.”

  “Hey, I picked this out for myself, you know.”

  “And you have impeccable taste, but you also have a completely different personality, not to mention shape, than I do. I can’t pull this off. It’s not my style.”

  “Honey, no offense, but you don’t have a style, so why not try on this one for a change?”

  “I’m not wearing this,” I insisted again stubbornly.

  “Fine, I’ll see if I can find a one piece,” she sighed.

  “Thank you. If you won’t drop this I’ll settle for finding something more suitable.”

  “You’d just cover up in a ratty old t-shirt if I sent you off in this one anyway,” she muttered.

  I was still baffled by her taking such an interest in my wardrobe. Why was she trying so hard to sex me up? I’d be spending two weeks on a lake surrounded by woods. If anything, I needed hiking gear.

  “Can we stop playing dress up for a while and have a drink?” I asked. She had a chilled bottle of red wine in the fridge that had been tempting me since I’d arrived. I was ready to pop the cork and curl up on the sofa while she shared the latest office gossip. It was usually centered around business, like who was up for promotion, what department was on the verge of getting downsized, or who was about to sign a major account. She wasn’t the mean- spirited type, so she left who was doing who in the copy room for someone else to guess.

  She poured us two glasses of Merlot and we settled on the sofa facing each other.

  “Promise me, promise, you’re going to try and enjoy yourself this weekend.”

  “I said I would, didn’t I?”

  “I mean, no dealing with your mother or that awful sister of yours. If they call, you don’t answer the phone.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. Why did she have to ruin a perfectly good evening by bringing up Ann? Thoughts of my sister running through my head were the last thing I needed if I really meant to enjoy myself. I loved her of course, but we’d never been close the way most sisters were. We were polar-opposites in high school. She was the cheerleader and I was the loner. The rift between us only grew as adults.

  Ann is tall, slender, and fashionable, a lot like Farah, only without the personality. She has brown eyes the color of honey. They shimmer when they catch the light and most anyone she meets feels compelled to remark on how beautiful they are. Married to a successful cosmetic surgeon, she's already filled her enormous, beautiful house with three blond beautiful children. She also had another bundle of joy on the way. I, by comparison, am considered mousy on my best day and have never come close to receiving a marriage proposal. My brown eyes are dull. They do not shimmer, nor does my hair, which is also brown, but not that shiny golden shade I could o
nly achieve with a bottle. Unsure how old one had to be to earn the title of spinster, I feared I was headed in that direction. Not only had I not dated in a while, I’d stopped looking to meet anyone. I’d grown far too comfortable being alone.

  Ann was my mother’s pride and joy. It made sense. They were just alike and they were both everything I wasn’t. Before Ann moved to Dallas so her husband, Kevin, could open his own practice, she and my mother had spent long afternoons shopping at the mall, had their hair and nails done together, and read the same fashion magazines. My mother occasionally tried to include me. I just never fit well. That was as much my fault as hers. I didn’t try all that hard. I wore navy blue and charcoal grey suits to work with practical pumps and the rest of my wardrobe consisted of jeans, shorts, and tank tops. I saw no reason for a manicure because I kept my nails clipped short and unpolished. My hair was either worn down and straight, or pulled into a tight ponytail. It wasn’t that I had anything against making an effort to improve my looks. It was that I was convinced a makeover wouldn’t yield the same results it did for my sister. I could just see the disappointed look on my mother’s face when all that hard work of picking out just the right outfit was lost on plain old me. So yeah, the issues were more mine than hers, but she had a habit of making that clear. It seemed she thought she could change me by shaming me every time she compared me to Ann. Shame me she did, but it had the unintended effect of driving me further away, inside my own little shell.

  So far, Farah and my friend Jackie, were the only two to crack the surface of that shell even a little. Jackie tended bar for a living. It was in her job description to listen to me drone on about my problems and emphasize. Since the only place I ever hung out on the rare occasion I had the notion to get out was the Pink Rose club, where she worked, I didn’t give her much of a choice but to listen. As for Farah, she adored me for who I was and that obligated me to put up with her attempts at instilling even the slightest sense of fashion into me. I never got the idea she wanted to change me as much as enhance me, so here I was, allowing her to put together an ill fitted wardrobe I didn’t even need because no one was going to see me at the lake.