The Cabin

by Alice Ward

  I hadn’t meant to become so permanently isolated. At first, I just needed to get away from the spotlight shining down on me after Jessica’s death. The trial. The cameras always in my face. The moment it was all over, I found this cabin for sale and then bought up as much of the surrounding property as I could. Running it through the many layers of my corporations guaranteed privacy from prying eyes and many questions. The rumors. True and false.

  One month turned into two, then an entire year had gone by. I’d never move back to New York and couldn’t think of any other place that captured my interest. Besides, I liked it here. I liked the peace of living at my own pace, of dictating my own schedule. But most of all, I liked not having anyone depend on me.

  Not like the woman lying on my sofa depended on me now.

  Pulling my eyes away from her, I stood and walked over to the window. Maggie’s nails clicked across the wood as she came to stand beside me, her cold nose pressing into my hand. She whined, a sure signal she needed the ladies’ room.

  I groaned, both for her and for me. “You sure you want to go out in this, girl? Might be a good day to learn to use the toilet.”

  She whined again, more urgently this time, and I could almost imagine her crossing her legs. She leaned against me, looking up with soulful brown eyes that seemed to say, Please.

  I smiled down at her. If only people were like good old dogs.

  “All right, girl. If you can take it, so can I.”

  Pulling on my boots and coat, I clipped a leash to Maggie’s collar before stuffing my hands back into thick gloves. Normally, I’d let her roam and find the perfect spot to do her business. Not tonight. It was still officially early evening by the clock but the world outside was as dark as midnight. The blizzard hadn’t lessened so I wanted to keep Maggie close, not take the chance she could get lost in the storm.

  Now nine years old, I’d adopted the senior dog at the animal shelter after thinking I’d gone there for a pup. Her calm presence kept drawing me back to her cage, those big eyes seeming to see right through me. When I learned she was on the kill list and wouldn’t make it past the weekend, the decision was made. Those eyes would have haunted me if I hadn’t gone back for her.

  “Want to come home with me?” I’d asked her through the bars.

  In response, she gave me a single lick on my hand.

  I took that as a yes, and in less than an hour, she was mine. I hadn’t regretted choosing her — or her choosing me — for a single moment. She wasn’t just good company. She was family.

  On the porch, Maggie seemed to have second thoughts. I didn’t blame her. The snow covered up the bottom three steps leading to where we stood. With a chest-heaving sigh, she jumped. The big brown dog landed neck deep, then looked up at me with an expression that clearly read, help.

  I laughed and started shoveling, and she waited patiently as I created a path that seemed to fill up as fast as I could dig it out. After she did her thing, she diligently covered it up with piles and piles of the white stuff, and I looked toward the garage, wondering if I should start the generator after all. If it was just me and Mag in the cabin, I’d make do with what I had, but the goddess…

  Hell, I didn’t know what she’d need or expect.

  All the appliances and hot water ran on propane, so the basics would be taken care of. The lights and most other things that plugged into an outlet would be down.

  When a burst of wind nearly knocked my six-four frame sideways, that answered my question. It was time to go back inside.

  “Let’s go, girl.”

  But instead of heading back up the stairs, her ears perked up, her entire body growing tense. When she barked, I tried to find what had drawn her attention. Maggie hardly ever barked. She was the very definition of a laid-back dog.

  She looked up at me and barked again before bounding forward, pulling on her leash, her body carrying an urgency that was unfamiliar. She barked again before giving me a look that said, Hey, dumbass, let me go.

  Tromping behind her, I kept her leash tightly fisted in my hand. Maggie leaped over the snow, almost as spry as a puppy again. She yanked, urging me to go faster as we went around the side of the house.

  For an instant, I wished I’d brought my shotgun. I couldn’t hear the howl of wolves or the crashing lumber of a bear, and surely my dog had enough sense to not drag me into that kind of fight, but a weapon would have been useful.

  Then I heard it. Over the wind, there was a little squeaking sound coming from the side of the cabin, but I could see nothing in the darkness. Pulling a flashlight from my pocket, I searched the area where Maggie was digging furiously, then fell to my knees to help her.

  Well, shit.

  I felt it before I could see it, mostly because it blended in with everything else. A kitten, snowball white, tiny squeaks coming from its throat. It was hunkered in a nook at the base of the chimney, which was probably the only thing that had allowed it to live this long under these conditions.

  It hissed and swiped when Maggie nudged it with her nose. The gentle dog gave me a surprised and somewhat insulted look when it landed a blow, but like the champ she was, took another swipe as she attempted to pick the spitting creature up with her mouth.

  “I got this,” I assured Maggie and was glad to be wearing gloves to escape the claws of the frightened animal. The kitten fought for just a few moments before giving up and snuggling inside my coat.

  “Great, two strays in one day.”

  Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something.

  Tromping back to the house, Maggie kept jumping at my side, trying to inspect our new houseguest.

  “Guest,” I stressed to the dog. “Not a permanent resident.”

  I wasn’t a fan of cats and their sketchy behavior. Jessica had loved them but sneezed her head off any time she came within twenty yards of one, so I didn’t have to learn to live with their manic personalities. And I didn’t know shit about kittens except that cats could be in heat from spring to fall. Since it was now mid-October, this one must have been in one of the last batches of the season.

  I looked around and listened for additional squeaks, wondering where its mother was and if the other kittens were okay. Damn, I was going soft. Since Maggie would alert me to any additional intruders, I could only assume this little guy was on his own.

  Back in the house, I grew softer still when my eyes went immediately to the goddess. Then I hardened them. Hardened my heart. Hardened everything except the one thing I wouldn’t be needing. My dick. That part of my body needed to behave itself.

  This stray was temporary too, I reminded myself.

  The snow would melt and the goddess would leave.

  She wasn’t mine to keep.

  And she was better off that way.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Zoe

  I woke to the scent of coffee brewing and some other wonderful scent filling my nose. I opened my eyes a slit, the orange glow of the fire sending bursts of pain into my head.

  I groaned.

  It was ridiculous how much my head hurt. I’d had migraines as a teen, but this made them seem like a minor ache. Blinking to clear my vision, it stayed blurry instead.

  I felt him approach before I saw him, his socked feet not making a sound on the wood floor. He sat on the ottoman in front of me and my entire world suddenly revolved around him.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Pushing up into a sitting position, I winced as the movement speared into me. “I’m not sure.”

  His lips quirked up, but it couldn’t officially be called a smile. “I’d say you probably feel like you fell down a mountain.”

  I probed the scratch under my eye. “Yeah, after a snowplow ran over me a couple of times.”

  The lips quirked up a bit more, and the way the almost-smile crinkled the corner of his eyes was disarming. “What would you like to drink? I’ve got coffee, water, a variety of juices. Orange, apple, grape. Soft drinks. Sprite. Coke. Dr. Pepper.
We’ll try food a little later after we see how your stomach handles the liquid.”

  I blushed. “What? You don’t want me to throw up on your nice oriental rug? I was so graceful about it earlier.”

  He laughed, and the rumble of the sound vibrated the air around us. “It’ll clean up if you do. I’m more worried about how all that heaving would shake your already shaken brain.”

  My fingers moved to the cut on my head, only to find a thick layer of gauze there. I wasn’t sure when he’d done that. “I’m not sure there is much brain left. I think it all leaked out of this hole.”

  The smile faded, his beautiful blue eyes growing serious. “You’re very lucky.”

  Our eyes met. Locked. My stomach churned for a different reason. “I know. Thank you for being there. For saving me.”

  Silence stretched between us, and so did something else that was unfamiliar. It was like the blizzard had changed the amount of gravity in the room, pressing us together. He broke the eye contact first and pushed himself into a standing position. “What do you want? Juice?”

  “Yes. Apple if that’s okay.”

  His jeans fit his ass like a glove, I noticed as he headed into the kitchen area, and I pulled my gaze away and took the opportunity to look around the cabin. It was at least three times the size of mine with floor-to-ceiling windows that would shine tomorrow’s light onto the open floor plan.

  In addition to the oversized leather sofa I sat on, a couple chairs were clustered around the huge fireplace while other chairs sat in front of a wall of shelves filled with hundreds of books. Exposed beams soared overhead, the high ceiling making the room appear to be even larger than it was. Through the windows, I could see the wraparound deck with a sunroom off to one side.

  The entire place exuded masculinity, but not in a beat-your-chest kind of way. It was warm and soothing, much like the man himself. The man who was now pouring my juice and something else… whiskey? He dropped a cinnamon stick in and gave it a quick stir.

  “Here, I added a little something to help sooth your nerves,” he said as he placed the glass in my hands. I sniffed the concoction and he chuckled. “It’s called an Apple Jack, made with Jack Daniels.”

  I looked warily down into the liquid. “An Apple Jack for the lumberjack?”

  The smile broadened but still didn’t show his teeth. “Try it. If you don’t like it, I’ll pour you straight apple.”

  Still wary, I lifted it to my lips and took a sip, grimacing as the alcohol burned its way down. He laughed again, a soft rumbling sound that curled my toes. Despite the burn, it wasn’t bad, and I took another sip. That one was better.

  Even though I’d just woken up, I yawned. “Sorry. I’m not sure why I’m so tired.”

  He leaned forward and pulled a piece of hair from my face. It was stuck to my skin like glue. “You’ll probably feel that way for a few days. How about we get you cleaned up and these wounds tended, then you can sleep through the night.”

  I glanced around for a clock. “What time is it?”

  “A little after eight.”

  That shook me. I’d been asleep for a few hours. It only felt like a few minutes.

  I took another sip but didn’t want to risk another. I could already feel the liquid swirling around in my stomach, and not in a good way. “I think I’m finished for now.”

  He took the glass from my hand and set it on the table beside me. “Let’s get your wounds cleaned up.”

  Scooting the ottoman closer to me, he moved until my knees were between his jean-clad thighs. I could smell him now. A mixture of wood and some masculine smelling bodywash, but there was something even more alluring hiding beneath the scent. Him.

  I swallowed hard and his hands lifted to my head, his face so very near to mine now. As he began the process of unwrapping the bandage, my fingers itched to touch his beard. It was thick and looked so soft, and I yearned to know how it felt. How the full lips beneath it felt as they…

  Stop it.

  What was wrong with me? I surely did have a concussion to be thinking in such a way. He winced more than I did as the cotton stuck to the wound, and I felt a fresh stream of blood flow down my forehead. He pressed a bandage to the cut to staunch the flow. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Can you walk?”

  It wasn’t graceful, but I managed to wobble over to the sink, his strong arm around me to keep me steady. With each step, my head pounded harder, and I was breathing heavy by the time he lifted me to sit on the counter. I was very aware that I wore nothing but his t-shirt, and apparently so was he because he strode back into the living area and returned with a blanket he draped over my bare legs.

  “Lie down,” he instructed, his voice grittier and more strained than before. “I need to wash the blood away and it will be easier if I just do it in the sink.” Once I was flat, he told me he’d be right back. And he was, with towels and a first aid kit in his hands. A bottle of shampoo too.

  He turned on the water, and once it was warm, he used the nozzle to wet my hair, and I tried not to wince when he got near the sore place. He used a washcloth to wipe the blood from my face. For such a big man, he was very gentle. Yet also strong. He demonstrated an incredible ability to know just how to use the right amount of pressure as he worked his manly smelling shampoo into my hair.

  “Sorry I don’t have any girly products,” he said as he hovered over my face. “It’s either Blackwood or Dawn dishwashing detergent.”

  I laughed, wincing at how the sound pounded through my brain. “You chose wisely, but if I’m ever caught in an oil spill, use the Dawn, please.”

  He actually smiled this time. A true smile, teeth and all, and I was warmed by the little gap between the front two. I wasn’t sure why, but that small flaw made him even more attractive. It was like a little boy still lived within the big, strong man.

  “Do you anticipate ever needing to be rescued from an oil spill?”

  “No, but I never anticipated needing to be rescued from a blizzard either.”

  His smile faded. “Yeah. That was close. The storm hit even sooner than expected.”

  I gazed up at him, then was forced to close my eyes as water sprayed into my face as he rinsed my hair. “How did you find me?”

  I felt him stiffen, and I blinked through the water to see his face. “You need stitches,” he said, turning off the faucet and probing the cut. “I don’t have supplies for that, but I’ve got superglue. It should work well enough.”

  That surprised me. “Glue?”

  He grinned, but the gesture seemed forced. “Yep. That’s pretty much what hospitals use, except they’d never admit to it. They couldn’t charge so much if they did.”

  He wrapped a towel around my hair, squeezing the strands instead of rubbing, and I realized he’d had some practice doing this. “Are you a hairdresser when you aren’t being Paul Bunyan and a bartender?” I asked, my voice teasing.

  But the corners of his mouth tightened, and he didn’t answer. “Can you sit?” He wasn’t angry, but I felt him pulling away, putting a mental distance between us for some reason I didn’t understand.

  My muscles were still wobbly, but I managed to do so with his help. My right side was beginning to burn, and I looked down at my arm. I hissed as I explored the cuts and scrapes there. “I think the branch won this battle,” I said as I felt the wound on my cheek.

  His fingers replaced mine. “You’re very lucky the limb didn’t drive right through you, and it also stabilized the Jeep long enough for me to get down to you. We should give it a medal.”

  “The Purple Bark?”

  He laughed, the sound exploding from his chest. “You’re funny. Now, let’s see what else we have.”

  Lifting the sleeve of the shirt to expose my arm and shoulder, I noticed him swallow hard, his lips tightening into a thin line.

  “Are you cold?” He groaned and looked away from me the moment the words left his mouth.

  I looked down at my breasts, and sure enough, my nipples were
on high alert under the thin material. I felt my cheeks grow warm as I crossed my battered arms over them. “Um, sorry. Maybe a little.”

  He cleared his throat, his eyes coming back to me, but this time they were staring at my forehead. “Then let’s do the first aid back over at the fire. I don’t want you to get chilled.”

  Me-ow-ee-k.

  What was that?

  When it sounded again, I realized it was from a cat. No, a kitten maybe. Thinking about animals made me realize that his beautiful dog wasn’t around. When the squeaky sound became even more urgent in pitch and length, claws clicked on the floor and Maggie appeared around the corner. Her anxious eyes were fixed on her human.

  “What’s wrong, girl?” Maggie whined when the meow sounded again. “Is your new friend needing something?”

  The dog barked, then whirled around and disappeared. As I turned my head to see where she was going, my vision lurched and I grew dizzy. Reaching for something stable, my hands landed on him. I tried to pull them away, but my weight kept heading in his direction as the kitchen whirled around me. Before I could stop myself, my nose was in his neck.

  Time stopped as the soft beard cushioned my face and his arms closed around me. His breath was warm in my hair as he said, “Whoa now. Let’s get you back on the couch.”

  As if I were a child, he scooped me up into his strong arms and the blanket fell away to the floor. For the second time that day, I found myself nestled against his broad chest, but this time, I could feel his heart hammering into my side.

  It beat to the same rhythm as mine.

  I looked up at him, my arms snaking around his neck. “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes, so piercingly blue, roved over my face before falling to my lips. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. And I wanted with a desperation I didn’t fully understand for him to do so.

  Meow-eek.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Woof.

  A breath shuddered out of him, and the moment was over as his face closed into a tight mask.

  “Come on.”

  In a few long strides, he deposited me back on the sofa. Retrieving the blanket, he covered my legs. “I better check on my other guest.”