Snow Furries (An Alpine Grove Romantic Comedy Book 4)

by Susan C. Daffron

  He patted the back of the couch. “This is fine.”

  “That’s very chivalrous of you, but you’re taller than I am. You’ll be uncomfortable.” Cramming those broad shoulders onto that narrow sofa would have to be unpleasant.

  Jack gestured toward the wood stove. “I can watch the fire more easily from there.”

  “I could do that!”

  “What if it goes out? Have you ever built a fire in a wood stove before?”

  “No.” Becca tugged the sweatpants up and tightened the drawstring. “But I’m sure I could.” How hard could it be?

  “I’ll deal with it. Are you hungry? I can heat up one of the canned things.”

  “I can do that, if you want.” The fact that by this point he probably thought she was an incompetent moron was starting to bug her. Plus, she really needed something to do.

  Jack walked to the front of the cabin and pulled his coat down from the hook next to the door. He pulled the Swiss army knife out of a pocket and handed it to her. “The can opener requires some patience.”

  She pulled out the various blades and held one up to show him. “This is it, right?”

  “Yes. Go for it. I’m going to go get some more wood. Tomorrow, once we have light again, I need to dig the chain saw out of the truck and see if I can find some downed trees that aren’t too wet.”

  Becca walked over to the kitchen. “You drive around with a chain saw?” This wasn’t going to turn into a horror movie, was it?

  “I told you, I’m a forester. I spend a lot of time in the woods.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at the can. Opening it could take forever, given the stupid way the Swiss army knife worked. This was like some type of martial-arts master patience exercise. Wax on. Wax off. She was not the Karate Kid. What were those Swiss people thinking with this design?

  Looking up from the tedious can-opening process, she said, “Wait a minute, this is great! If you have a chain saw, you can cut up the tree that fell across the road.” She put down the Swiss army knife and clapped her hands together. “That would be fantastic! We can call someone to get us out of here.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” He never liked her ideas. What a grump.

  “I’m not getting near an electric line with a chain saw.” He leveled a stern look at her. “I don’t have a death wish.”

  “Maybe the tree isn’t on the line. How do you even know?”

  “There used to be a wire crossing the road. It wasn’t up there anymore after the tree was down.”

  Becca picked up the can opener again. “Oh. Okay.” Logic could be so irritating. At this rate, she wasn’t going to get out of this place until the spring thaw.

  Becca dumped the contents of the can into a pot. The revolting smell of soggy pasta and heavily sweetened fake tomato sauce accosted her nostrils. Even little kids didn’t eat canned pasta like this anymore, did they? She turned away from the counter toward Jack, who was crouched in front of the wood stove again. “I’d like to give Frank the SpaghettiOs, if it’s okay with you. I don’t think I can stand to eat something that smells like that.” She looked down at the dog. “Frank seems pretty excited about the idea though.”

  “I’m sure he’d enjoy it.”

  “He probably doesn’t need them heated up, right?”

  Jack stood up and walked into the kitchen area. “No. Just put it in a bowl. Frank will be your best friend.”

  Becca poured the nasty contents of the pot into a bowl. It landed with a slurpy glop, and she put the bowl on the floor for the dog. “Here you go, Frank. Eat up.”

  Frank wolfed down the contents in approximately four bites. He looked up at Becca expectantly. She shook her head at the dog. “Sorry. That’s it.” A dog that size was probably used to getting a whole lot more food.

  Jack said, “There was some soup in the cabinet that didn’t look as bad.”

  “I think I’m going for this rice and vegetable one.” She held up a can. “The picture on the label looks less disgusting than the pasta stuff.” Becca went through the laborious can-opening process again and poured the thin soup into the pot. Grabbing a spoon, she went over to the wood stove, and placed the soup on it. She peered into the large pot that had been filled with snow. The giant stack of snow had melted down to only about four cups of water. It could take a long time to get enough water for even one flush.

  Jack joined her in front of the stove and they stood and stared down at the soup in silence as Becca stirred for what seemed like ages. Apparently not satisfied with his SpaghettiOs, Frank was closely supervising the cooking operation and drooling on the floor. Becca had to admit that the soup did smell good. When was the last time she’d eaten anything? No wonder she was hungry.

  At last, the soup started bubbling and Becca brought the pot back to the kitchen. She set two bowls of soup on the tiny table and sat down. Jack sat across from her, looking somewhat morose. The flickering of the candlelight reflected in his eyes, so they flashed a deep sapphire blue. Now that she wasn’t about to die from hypothermia, she wasn’t sure what to say to the guy beyond “thank you for not leaving me out in the frozen tundra and letting me turn into an icy corpse.” She’d already thanked him, so now what? She cleared her throat. “So I guess you live in Alpine Grove somewhere?”

  He looked up from his soup. “Yes. Right now, I’m renting a place near town.”

  “That must be convenient. They might even deliver pizza. I would so love a pizza now. I’m guessing this place is out of the delivery area. Even if they could get here. Which they can’t, unless they want to use a snowmobile or a team of sled dogs.”

  Jack sipped his soup and put down the spoon. “You probably don’t want to think too much about food, given how little we have here.”

  “Oh, come on. I think some fabulous crusty bread would go so well with this soup. I’d love to have one of those long sourdough flutes with seeds all over the top. Lightly toasted with some melted brie? Oh, and some creamy roasted garlic too. That would be fantastic.” Her stomach growled loudly and she looked down at the bowl. “Oh. I see what you mean.”

  “One little can of soup doesn’t make much of a meal.”

  “You’re right.” Becca set down her spoon in an effort to prolong the dining experience. Best not to dwell on decadent dinner fantasies. “Clearly, I need to think about something other than our lack of food. What do you do other than wander around in the woods? What do you do for fun?”

  “Sometimes Frank and I go out hiking.”

  “So, you go walking around in the woods when you’re not walking around in the woods?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so. What do you do when you aren’t trying to find houses?”

  “I like going out to eat with friends.” She glanced at her spoon. “Never mind. What else? Okay, I like to go shopping. I used to go out more at night, but not as much anymore.” Why did she say that?

  Jack peered over his spoon with a half-smile. “So are you afraid of the dark or something? I hope not, because we’re going to have to put out all these candles at some point.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant.” Becca waved her hand toward the window. “If we ever get out of here, is there anything fun to do in town? I mean, you aren’t going to be hiking all winter in the snow, are you?”

  “I have snowshoes.”

  Becca put her spoon in the bowl with a clink. “You’re kidding, right?” Was this guy, Grizzly Adams or something?

  Jack nodded. “I do have snowshoes. And cross-country skis.”

  “Don’t you ever do anything inside? Where it’s warm?”

  “I read sometimes.”

  She leaned forward. “So are you a hermit or something? Wait, you’re not associated with the Unabomber, are you?” Did the Unabomber have a chain saw?

  He chuckled. “No. I don’t have any secret agenda. It’s just we…I…haven’t lived here that long and I haven’t met a lot of people because I spend so much tim
e out in the forest working.”

  “That sounds lonely.”

  “Most of my family is in Colorado. I have a bunch of friends there too.”

  “Didn’t you want to spend Thanksgiving with them?” Becca stirred her soup. “This is shaping up to be the worst Thanksgiving ever for me. Tomorrow, I was supposed to be drinking wine and making mashed potatoes with my mom and the rest of my family. I had a whole list of things I was going to be doing. And I’d be doing them in a house with functional plumbing and heat that just turns on when you flip a switch. Instead, I’m eating soup of dubious vintage with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. You did save me from freezing to death, and I appreciate that. But didn’t you have plans? What were you going to be doing tomorrow?”

  Jack crossed his arms across his chest. “Well, I had plans, but they didn’t work out, so Frank and I were going to watch some TV.”

  “Alone? How depressing. What plans?” Becca rested her forearms on the table. No wonder he looked sad.

  He leaned forward, the candle flame illuminating his eyes. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”

  “I have nothing else to do. Have you seen any books, playing cards, anything?”

  “Not really.”

  “So what were your plans?”

  Jack placed his crossed arms on the table. “I was supposed to be going to a huge dinner with my wife’s family. The whole thing had been planned for months at a resort south of here. But that didn’t work out.”

  Becca leaned back away from the table. “You’re married?” Was he wearing a ring? She hadn’t noticed.

  “Not exactly.” He scowled and sipped a spoonful of soup.

  Becca glanced down, but she couldn’t see his left hand. “Um, okay.” Given his expression, the not-exactly-wife probably was not a popular topic to pursue. “At least you get to hang out with Frank, the super-cool dog. How long have you had him?” The dog sat up and turned his head to see if the mention of his name meant food was forthcoming. Seeing no evidence of feeding, he sighed loudly and collapsed back down onto the rug.

  “I got him about six months ago. I did a timber cruise and some consulting for a family. They didn’t have enough money to pay me, so they gave me Frank instead.”

  Becca’s eyes widened. “You got paid in dog?” Alpine Grove was a seriously odd place.

  “Yes. They needed someone to evaluate the forest to see if they could harvest sustainably. If they didn’t do some logging to get some cash fast, they were probably going to lose their property. But they were worried a logging company might strip the land, so they wanted my opinion.”

  Becca looked over at the dog, who was snoring quietly. “Frank, do you feel cheap?”

  The dog lifted his head and cocked his ears. Clearly, there still was no food to be had. He placed his head back on the floor with a thud.

  Jack looked down at Frank. “I doubt it. Mostly he rides around with me in the truck and gets to run around in the woods. He was a terrible farm dog anyway.”

  “Frank was a farm dog?”

  “Yes, he was supposed to guard chickens, but he wasn’t very good at it after he ate one and discovered they were tasty.”

  “Eww. Oh Frank, bad dog!”

  Chapter 4

  Kung Fu

  After finishing the soup, Jack got up and started blowing out some of the candles. “We should probably save these.”

  “We’re not going to be here for another night.” Becca peered into the darkness, trying to see where he was. “Are we? Please say no.”

  “It’s still snowing.”

  Becca slumped in her chair. “I can’t believe this. It’s so dark I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.” She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. In the light of the one last candle and the flickering of the flame behind the glass door of the wood stove, her hand was only a dim outline with blackness behind it. How did anyone read by candlelight? In the days before electricity, everyone must have endured serious eye strain. “Is there a flashlight anywhere?”

  “I found one in a drawer, but the batteries are dead. I have one out in the truck that I can get tomorrow when I go dig out the chain saw.”

  Becca got up, carried the candle in front of her over to the sofa, and put it on the coffee table. She sat down and wrapped herself in the blanket again, not because she was cold anymore, but because she wanted the feel of something around her. It was so quiet and something about the blackness emphasized every tiny strange noise. “Where are you?”

  Jack walked in front of the wood stove so she could see the outline of his body. “I’m right here. Where would I go?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just really dark.”

  He sat down on the sofa next to her and leaned closer to see her face. “You really are afraid of the dark, aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not! I go out at night all the time. A bunch of friends and I like to go out dancing at clubs.” Well, they used to anyway. Her “club buddies” as she thought of them, had finally given up and stopped asking. Even before everything happened, the last few times they went out had felt strained. Trying to relive college party-girl days just seemed a little sad after a certain point. And all the scantily clad nubile youngsters at the clubs made her feel like a crabby old crank.

  “Why are you huddled up in the blanket like that? You can’t be cold anymore.”

  “There are weird noises.” A log clunked in the wood stove and she jumped, clutching the blanket closer. Her heart was hammering in her chest. This was so stupid. Why couldn’t she just get over this?

  “That was the firewood breaking down into ash. And Frank is snoring. Sorry about that. He is kind of loud.”

  “Actually, I like the snoring. I’m used to hearing traffic noise. People noise. Any noise. Not this weird, creepy silence.”

  “You’re afraid of the quiet?”

  “I’m not afraid!” Becca fingered the blanket. Yes, she was.

  “Okay. Whatever you say.” Jack got up and disappeared into the darkness.

  Intellectually, Becca knew her fears were completely irrational. But it didn’t change how she felt. Maybe Jack wouldn’t notice how nervous she really was. At this point, she was worried she might have a full-blown panic attack again. Even the idea of a panic attack made her more anxious. That was an experience she never wanted to have again. Maybe it would be better if she went up to the loft. She picked up the candle from the table and held it in front of her, trying to will her hand not to shake. Jack’s shadowy form moved in the kitchen. She held out the candle toward him. “Could you hold this candle so I can see the ladder? I’m going to go up there and lie down.”

  He took the candle from her. “Sweet dreams.”

  Becca crawled up the ladder and stretched out her hands to feel her way to the bed. Crawling under the covers, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to focus on Frank’s reassuring snoring. When she’d let Tony talk her into watching The Shining, she’d never dreamed she’d be stuck in the middle of nowhere in a snowstorm with a guy named Jack. That was a train of thought she needed to derail right now. Time to focus on her breathing like they taught her in yoga class. It was unfortunate that she was essentially lying here in corpse pose, however. Best not to dwell on that idea either.

  Becca jolted awake and sat up. Where was she? Utter blackness surrounded her. She moved her hands in front of her face. Had she gone blind? Her heart thundered in her chest and she laid back down, trying to relax. A canine groan rose from below and she remembered. Everything. Frank. Jack. The cabin. The whole awful thing.

  Apparently, she had been more tired than she’d realized and had finally fallen asleep. And then had some seriously bizarre dreams. There was swirling snow and Frank was typing on an old typewriter about Jack being a dull boy. But typing would be really hard with those gigantic paws. It didn’t make sense. Then Frank went and got a drink of water from the soup pot. Slurp, splash—water was everywhere i
n her dream. That made a little more sense anyway. He was a nice dog, but definitely a bit of a drooler. Of course, now she really needed to pee again. And that meant crawling down the ladder and feeling her way around to the tiny bathroom. Oh, no.

  Huddling back down in the covers, Becca tried to forget about her bladder and go back to sleep. No, she did not need to go to the bathroom. No, she did not! She tossed and turned a few times. It was no use. She sighed. There was no way she could hold out until morning. Flipping back the covers, she sat up and put her feet on the floor. Looking over toward the railing, there was a tiny bit of flickering light from the wood stove. That helped a little. It was like she was a moth, desperate to fly toward any tiny bit of illumination.

  She padded across the floor and carefully turned around to descend the ladder. At the bottom, she turned toward the deep inky darkness where the bathroom was located. Holding her hands out in front of her, she shuffled slowly along the floor. It had to be here somewhere.

  Something touched her shoulder and she whirled her fist around, slamming it into something solid. There was a loud crash and then an outburst of energetic male swearing. After exhausting his supply of creative expletives, Jack shouted from below her, “What is wrong with you?” At all the commotion, Frank toddled over to offer his assistance. Jack pushed the dog away from him. “Frank, stop that. Go lie down.”

  Becca bent down and reached out a hand to try to help Jack up off the floor. “Are you hurt? I didn’t know it was you.”

  He pushed her hand away and put his own hand to his face gingerly. “Who else would it be?”

  “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I hope so, because right now I’ve really, really got to go to the bathroom.” Being startled was not a good thing for her bladder. The urgency factor was officially extreme. Thank goodness she hadn’t wet her panties.

  She scuttled off to the bathroom and could hear Jack mumbling as he got back to his feet. Maybe she’d learned more in those self-defense classes than she’d thought. She smiled at herself in the darkness. Kung Fu Becca.