Winter Woods

by ID Johnson

  Thoughts of the petite blonde left his head when he came to a stop in the driveway of the much larger cabin. This one certainly looked large enough for all four of them to be comfortable for the next two weeks. The porch light was on here as well, and he could clearly see the 366 illuminated even through the snow. This time, he went ahead and grabbed his suitcase out of the back and made his way to the porch.

  Before he even had a chance to knock, Nash pulled the door open. “There he is!” he shouted, pulling his brother inside in a big hug. It had been nearly two years since they’d seen each other, and Memphis was just as excited to see his older brother as Nash clearly was to be in the same room together at last. “We thought maybe you got done in by a snow bank.

  Memphis laughed and dropped his luggage so he could pat his brother on the back. “I feel like I got run over by something,” he muttered.

  “You look like it, too,” Nash roused, stepping back from him. He pushed the door closed behind him. “Well get on in here. Gramps is snoozing in the den by the fireplace, but Dad’s in the kitchen. He’ll be happy to see your ugly mug.”

  Though he could have pointed out to his brother that most folks thought they looked a lot alike, Memphis only chuckled and followed his brother into the kitchen. The place appeared even larger on the inside and smelled of cedar with a tinge of fireplace smoke. To the left, a large staircase twisted down from the upper story. To the right was the entryway to the kitchen. As soon as Memphis stepped into the spacious room, Lyle Nix set his coffee mug aside. “Hey, hey, stranger!” he joked. “How you been?”

  Stepping over to him, Memphis gave his dad a hug and let him slap him on the back a few times. “Not bad,” he replied. “Just a little tired.”

  “I imagine. You just drove clear across the country on only a few hours’ rest.” Lyle was slightly shorter than both of his sons, and his hair was gray at the temples. Even though he was in his late forties, he was still fit, and Memphis imagined he’d look a lot like his dad when he was his age, if he was lucky.

  “Would’ve been here a lot sooner if it wasn’t for the snow,” Memphis pointed out. He wanted to add that he’d also taken a last minute detour that cost him a few minutes, but there was no sense in bringing up their angry little neighbor just yet.

  “At least you’re here now,” Lyle replied. “Safe and sound.”

  “And just in time, too, I think,” Nash added. “They’re saying it might be blizzard-like conditions the rest of the night.”

  “Really?” Memphis asked, leaning back against the granite counter. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “The weather radio just made an announcement a few minutes ago,” Lyle replied.

  “I hope it lets up in time for us to get some fishing in tomorrow,” Nash said, crossing his arms. “It’ll be a shame if there’s so much snow we can’t even get out on the stream.”

  “We’ve got plenty of time,” Lyle reminded his oldest son. “It can’t snow that long.”

  Memphis laughed, thinking maybe his father shouldn’t dare mother nature. “I’m sure we’ll get plenty of chances to see if that stream’s as good as you say it is.”

  “My friends swear by it,” Lyle reminded him. “People come from all over to fish in this private stream. That’s why this cabin is so hard to come by.”

  “How’d you manage to book it at the last minute then?” Memphis asked.

  “I had that other one booked, the one down the way a bit, but I told the owner, Mr. Minter, if this one became available sign me up. So, I guess the other folks cancelled last week, and he gave me a call that same day.”

  “You’re lucky no one swooped and stole it out from under you,” Nash added.

  “I know,” Lyle nodded. “I don’t think there’s a cabin out here that isn’t nice, though. And all of them have access to the water. This one is just the closest.”

  “That is some view out the upstairs windows,” Nash said, running a hand through his hair.

  “I guess I’ll have to take your word on that until the snow lets up,” Memphis said, stifling a yawn.

  “Why don’t we go see if Gramps is awake, and if he’s not, you should probably head on up and get some sleep. I know it’s not that late, but you look exhausted.” There was definitely concern in Lyle’s voice, and Memphis couldn’t help but feel a bit more warmth for his father than usual.

  They quietly made their way into the den to see that Gramps was still snoring loudly in a recliner next to the fireplace. Lyle stepped around a large coffee table and pulled an afghan up around his shoulders before they snuck back out. Memphis was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t get to talk to Gramps that night, but at least he’d gotten to see him.

  Once they were back in the foyer, Nash said, “Come on, brother. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Memphis definitely wasn’t going to argue with that. He grabbed his suitcase and told his dad goodnight, following Nash up the winding staircase. He led him to a spacious room in the back. It happened to have bunk beds, but the bottom one looked to be a queen sized mattress.

  “You’re the last one here, so you get the bunk beds,” Nash explained. “And the crappiest view.”

  “Awesome,” Memphis mumbled, though he really didn’t care. He didn’t think he’d be spending too much time in here, not awake anyway. “Did you get the room with the great view?”

  “Nah,” Nash replied. “Gave it to Dad. And Gramps has the master bedroom on the bottom floor so he doesn’t have to climb the stairs.”

  Memphis nodded. “That was good thinking. How’s he doing anyway?”

  Nash’s face paled a little bit. “Okay,” he replied. “I worry about them, though.” Memphis knew he meant his Nana Gene as well. “They’re getting up there.”

  “I know,” Memphis nodded.

  “You know, I was thinking, now that Dad’s started his own company, maybe you should think about moving here. I mean, I know you’ve stayed in Texas all these years for mom, but, you’re aware she’s talking about moving this way once she retires next year, right?”

  Memphis didn’t know that. He had spoken to his mom less frequently since he started working on the oil rigs, but it made sense. Nash’s wife, Laney, was pregnant, and Memphis knew how badly his mother wanted to spoil her grandkid.

  Even the idea of considering a move at this point, when he was so exhausted and there were so many factors, was overwhelming, and he was having trouble even formulating a response.

  Nash must have seen him struggling. “You know what? We can talk about that later. You need to get to sleep before you fall over.”

  Memphis nodded, happy for the reprieve. “All right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight,” Nash said, clapping him on the shoulder one last time before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

  Letting out a deep breath, Memphis dropped into a cushy chair that sat in the corner of the room. He took off his hat and hung it on the back of the chair, running his hands through his hair. His brother seemed to have unloaded a lot of information on him all at once, and he wasn’t even sure how much of it was accurate. Taking off his boots, he carefully set them against the wall. He’d do his best to push thoughts of his mom moving, his dad offering him a job, and the possibility of moving across the country out of his head until tomorrow. One thing that simply would not be brushed away, however, was the image of the blonde woman peering at him through the crack in the cabin door. Even though he couldn’t see her full face, there was something hauntingly beautiful about her blue eyes and the way her hair gleamed in the dim light. He definitely owed her an apology, and he was hopeful the snow would let up enough that he could stop by tomorrow and make sure she knew he meant no harm to her—or her husband, Brutus.

  ***

  The next morning, Olivia slept in well past 10:00. She had stayed up to finish an intricate scene and thought the clock said a little past 1:00 when she finally climbed into bed. She always had trouble sle
eping in strange places, even when she was exhausted, so it had taken her a couple more hours after that to finally nod off. She probably wouldn’t have even gotten up at 10:00 if there hadn’t been a rather loud knock on her front door.

  At first, she wasn’t sure where she was at. With as many book tours as she had been on in the last year, that wasn’t uncommon, but by the time she realized she was in the cabin, another loud knock sounded, and she started to think perhaps something was wrong.

  Grabbing her robe off of the chair next to the dresser, she threw it on over her flannel pajamas and brushed her hair back before carefully making her way down the ladder. It was hard enough to navigate when she wasn’t half asleep.

  She crossed over to the door and looked through the peephole. When she saw it was the same cowboy as the night before, she couldn’t believe her eyes. What in the world would have brought him back after she yelled at him just a few hours ago? Without even opening the door this time at all, she shouted, “Can I help you?”

  He seemed a bit taken aback. “Hello?” he shouted. “Ma’am?”

  “Yes?” Olivia replied. “What is it?”

  “Oh, uh… I was just… I thought I might come by and apologize if I frightened you last night. Would you mind opening the door?”

  Looking at him through the tiny peephole in the daylight made Olivia realize he was much more handsome than she had even realized the night before. He had a ruggedness about him that made butterflies take off in her stomach. His hair was a caramel blond, and those eyes were just as deep brown as she had thought. There was no way she was opening the door to let him see her standing there in her robe with bedhead. “I’m sorry—I can’t do that. No need to apologize!”

  “You can’t?” he asked, his face showing surprise. “Please, I promise I won’t take more than a minute of your time.”

  “Thank you for stopping by, but everything is fine!” she shouted again. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we are having breakfast.” She wondered if that meant she was supposed to invite him to join her and made-up Brutus, but since that would defeat the purpose of not answering the door in the first place, she didn’t.

  “Okay,” he said, a little quieter this time. “Also, ma’am, I thought you might want to know, it looks like a tree branch fell on your car last night. I don’t see any damage….”

  Before he could even finish the sentence, Olivia took off out the door. That car was her pride and joy. The idea that something might have happened to it made her sick to her stomach, and she didn’t even think about the fact that she wasn’t fully dressed and her hair probably looked like Albert Einstein’s as she ran past him, leaving the door open shouting, “Oh no! My baby!”

  Olivia rounded the corner, the dumbstruck cowboy on her heels, and came to a stop in at least a foot of snow. There was a branch on the top of her car. It hadn’t completely snapped off of the larger tree it used to be fully attached to, but quite a bit of it was resting on the Cadillac. “What am I going to do?” she muttered, her hands covering her mouth. It looked too heavy for her to pull it off herself, and if she tried to back the car out from underneath it, the branch might snap and go through her roof or her windshield.

  “Maybe Brutus can come out and help me get it off?” he suggested, standing at her elbow.

  “Who?” Olivia asked, still staring at her car in disbelief. She hadn’t even considered the parking spot might be dangerous when she’d pulled in the night before. This is what garages were for.

  “Brutus?” he repeated. “Your husband?”

  “My what?” Olivia turned to look at him. His eyebrows were arched and a tiny hint of amusement played around his perfect lips. “Oh, right. Brutus. My… husband.”

  “You don’t have a husband named Brutus?” he asked, biting his bottom lip.

  “No,” she admitted, sheepishly. She crossed her arms. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it was late, and I wasn’t expecting anyone. And I couldn’t really see in the dark….”

  “It’s okay,” he chuckled. “I don’t blame you. Are you here all by yourself then?”

  She looked at him suspiciously. Her gut was telling her he was trustworthy, but she still hated to admit she was vulnerable at all to a complete stranger.

  As if he were reading her mind, he said, “It’s okay. I’m not a serial killer or anything.” He stared at her for a moment, and Olivia couldn’t help but smirk. That’s exactly what she’d been concerned about. He offered her a gloved hand. “I’m Memphis Nix. I’m up here with my dad and brother celebrating my granddad’s birthday.”

  She looked at his hand for a moment and then took it. “Olivia Kensington,” she said quietly. He didn’t look like the type of guy who read romance novels, but she never knew what kind of reaction she might get.

  Memphis smiled and nodded at her. “Nice to meet you. Well, I think we can probably handle this, although it might be smarter if I run over and get Nash.”

  “Who?” she asked, following his eyes as he glanced back over at the other cabin.

  “My brother,” he replied. Turning back to the tree, he said, “It’s just resting there right now. Maybe if I lift it up, you can back out, and then it’ll probably snap off on it’s own.”

  She surveyed the situation and came to the same conclusion. “And what would Nash do if he was here?”

  “Just help me hold it up, make sure none of those little branches scrape the paint.”

  It made sense. “But do you think it’ll stay like that long enough for you to go get him and come back?” As she was speaking, the branch made a loud cracking noise, and more weight came down on the top of her car.

  “I guess that answers that,” he said, shaking his head and resting his hands on his hips. He was wearing a thick leather coat, and Olivia suddenly realized she was shivering.

  “I don’t think we can wait,” she said. Without another thought, she ran back inside to get her keys, shouting, “Be right back!” over her shoulder.

  She noticed he had shut the door when she went flying past him, which was a nice gesture since she had the combination memorized—otherwise she would’ve been locked out. She punched in the code quickly, messed up the first time, and punched it in again. Her keys and her coat were right by the door, so she grabbed both and pulled the door closed behind her.

  Memphis was over by the tree branch, testing its weight. “Can you lift it?” she asked, using her clicker to unlock her car.

  “I think so,” he replied. “You’ll just have to back out real slow so you don’t run me over.” He was smiling at her, and she couldn’t tell if he was teasing or if he was honestly fearful she might catch the tip of his cowboy boots with her front tire.

  “I sure hope this works,” Olivia muttered as she went around him and opened the driver’s door. She turned the engine on and pushed the button letting her window down so she could hear him, hoping no branches came in and poked her eyes out. “Are we ready?”

  “Yep, just take her nice and slow,” he shouted back over the engine.

  With a deep breath, Olivia put the car in reverse and slowly started to back out, hoping not to hear the scritching sound of tree branches eating her paint. There were a few tiny scratching noises, but for the most part, Memphis seemed to have the limb under control. As soon as she was out from under it, however, the rest of the branch snapped away from the tree, and he tossed it clear of her car and himself right before it came crashing down. She thought some of the smaller twigs might have scratched him and some of the bark that flew off could’ve hit him as well. As soon as she was out of the way, she threw the car in park and went to see if he was all right.

  Memphis was brushing tiny bits of bark off of his coat when she stepped out of the car. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” he said, turning to face her.

  Looking carefully, she saw that he had a tiny scratch on his left cheek, near his eye. “It looks like it got you,” she said, gesturing to his cheek. A small amount of red was beginning to show.
“Here, why don’t you come in, and I’ll clean it up. I never go anywhere without a first aid kit.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s fine, Ms. Kensington,” he said waving her off.

  Stepping up on her tiptoes, Olivia looked more closely. “Well, I don’t think you’re going to die or anything, but come on in the cabin and let me get some disinfectant,” she insisted, turning around and walking away before he could argue.

  It took him a moment to comply, but by the time Olivia was in the half bathroom she’d discovered right off the entryway and digging through the emergency kit she’d shoved in there the day before, along with a few other toiletry items she wouldn’t be traipsing up and down the ladder to access, she heard his boots on the wooden living room floor. She grabbed some disinfectant and a tube of liquid bandage before she hurried back out.

  He was standing near the door with his hands in his jeans pockets, looking a bit timid, and she wondered what it was that suddenly had the man who’d been so bold to wake her by banging on her door looking so alarmed. “It won’t hurt, I promise,” she said, stopping in front of him and dabbing the disinfectant on some gauze.

  “Oh, I know,” he said. “I just hate to bother you, that’s all.”

  “Please, you just helped me get that branch off my car. If you hadn’t stopped by, it might’ve went right through my roof.” He took his hat off and bent down slightly so she could see, and she carefully cleaned the scratch. Standing this close to him, she recognized the scent of leather and some sort of spicy cologne that reminded her of the few times her father had taken her to the rodeo when she was younger. It was a bit intoxicating, and she had to focus to make sure she was dabbing the right spot on his handsome face. After she was sure the cut was disinfected she applied a thin layer of the liquid bandage to keep it from bleeding. “There you go,” she said, stepping back. “All better.” She glanced up at him and realized he was even more handsome without his hat on. His caramel hair had a light wave to it, and she wondered what it might be like to run her fingers through it.