by Peggy Bird
She didn’t acknowledge his pats or his comments. “What the hell is that?” she asked, pointing at a large and expensive-looking building in the trees about fifty yards ahead of them. She was sure the owner probably called it a cabin, but it was just a cabin the way the Empire State Building was just an office building.
It was built entirely of logs with a covered porch wrapped around the front and sides of the structure. Oversized rocking chairs and tables, also built of logs, were spaced along the expanse. It had a green metal roof, now dusted with dead fir needles from a winter’s worth of storms, and surprisingly small windows in the front.
“Who the hell owns it, I wonder?” she asked.
“People who build this far into Forest Service land usually don’t feel it necessary to have welcome mats out with their names on them,” Nick observed.
“I suppose you’re right.” She walked closer. “Look how big it is. From the lack of weathering in the logs, it can’t be more than a year or two old.” She turned to Nick, who had stayed behind. “Aren’t you curious? I am.”
“You’re not the kind of reporter who breaks into buildings, are you?”
“No, I’m not, any more than you’re a paparazzi. I just want to look in.” She called, “Hello, anyone home?” as she neared the cabin. There was no answer. “Hello, the house. Is there anyone there?” Still no response.
By then she was at the foot of the steps to the front porch. She took them two at a time, strode across the porch, and knocked on the door.
“What do you plan to say if someone answers?” Nick asked as he joined her.
“Ask where the lake is, of course. But no one’s answering, are they?” She moved to the window beside the door and looked in. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” he asked as he joined her.
“Look at all the white power stuff.” She pointed to dozens of flags and banners ringed around a huge commons room, which appeared to take up much of the main floor of the building. At the rear was a large open-plan kitchen with a restaurant-size stove and refrigerator. Two sets of steps, one on either side of the cabin, led up to a large balcony forming the ceiling for the kitchen and providing a viewing platform for the common room underneath. There were no visible doors to rooms off the balcony and little room for bedrooms behind the kitchen. It looked more like a conference center than a summer home.
“I see a few flags with crosses and funny hats or something, but nothing Nazi-ish. What makes you think it’s white power stuff?”
“White power isn’t always neo-Nazi. The funny hat, as you call it, is a type of helmet. The helmet is Spanish, the cross Celtic, and the shield French. Diverse, but of course, all European. It’s the symbol of a local hate group.”
“Interesting sort of information to have at your fingertips. Want to tell me how you know all that?”
“Maybe later. Right now I want to look around.”
“Okay, but if you’re correct about this stuff, we shouldn’t spend a whole lot of time here. I don’t want to run into the owner. It’s isolated out here and given what’s inside, the owner is not a nice person.”
“Before we leave, can you take some pictures of the outside of the cabin and through the windows? I particularly want the flags and the weird chewed up poster on the wall.” She indicated what appeared to be a large black-and-white photograph of an unidentifiable subject with most of the center of the photo gone.
“I will if you promise to leave here sometime in the next five minutes. I don’t like the feel of this place. And just so you know, I can get good outside images but inside through the windows won’t be the best shots.”
“This is for research, not publication.”
“Okay, go get your curiosity satisfied and let’s get out of here.”
As Nick worked his way around the cabin taking shots of the inside and out, Fiona followed a trail to a shed as sturdily built as the house and locked tight. Beside it was a chewed-up tree, like the poster in the house. She ran her hand over the bark, wondering what could have caused the damage. A sudden snap, like a branch breaking, in the trees close by startled her, but when a large bird flew overhead, she was relieved. It was just the wildlife.
After inspecting the tree from several angles, she came to the conclusion it had been shot up. By whom? And why? She ran around to the front of the building to take another look inside the front room to see if the poster there might have been the target, but as she turned the corner, she tripped and fell.
“Damn it,” she yelled.
“What happened, Fee?” Nick came running and got his question answered. Holding out his hand he said, “Here, let me help you up.”
She tried to stand but couldn’t put any weight on her right ankle. “Oh, shit.” She sank back to the ground.
“Hold on a minute and let me get my camera stowed, then I’ll help you up and we’ll get out of here.” He packed up his equipment in his bag and slung it on his back. Then he carefully helped her up, and put her arm around his neck and his arm around her waist.
“Can you put any weight on it at all?”
“A little.”
“Then let’s start. Go slowly.” He held her tightly and she leaned heavily on his shoulder.
After a few steps she said, “Wait. I want to take another look at the weird poster. The more I think about it, the more I think there’s something familiar about it.”
“You have about a mile, mile and a half of hopping to get to the car. We need to start now. The sun’s disappearing behind some dark clouds and I don’t want to get caught in a rain shower.”
“Please, Nick. Just a quick peek. It’ll only take a minute. It’s important.”
He sighed and changed their direction so she could maneuver onto the cabin porch and look in. “I need to see from another angle.” She started to hop toward another window.
He didn’t move which meant she couldn’t either. “You’ve had your quick peek. We’re outta here, Fee.” His tone left no room for arguing.
But she tried anyway. “Damn it, Nick. This could be important. What would two or three more minutes matter? No one’s around anyway.”
“We’re done.” He lifted her from the porch to the first step and then onto the second. “I’m not going to waste any more time poking around here.”
Twenty minutes of hopping, resting, and hobbling later, she had to admit he knew what he was talking about. And she told him “You were right. This is hard and taking a long time. I’m really sorry I got us into this. I’m usually better at outdoor stuff.”
He laughed. “Don’t apologize. It’s given me an excuse to get my hands all over you.”
She winced as she hobbled along, muttering. “Yeah, ’cause you’ve needed one, haven’t you?”
With all the rest stops, it took them almost forty-five minutes to get to the car but they beat the shower that started five minutes after they got there. Nick made Fiona comfortable in the back of her PT Cruiser with her right leg propped up on the seat cushioned by their jackets. He drove down the mountain, stopping only once for a bag of ice for her ankle and something cold to drink for both of them.
An hour and a half later they were back at her house. Wanting to act as if nothing had happened, she tried to get out of the car, but when she put weight on the sprained ankle, she grimaced.
“Hey, you’re supposed to wait for me.” Nick hurried around the car and grabbed her.
“I thought I could do it myself.”
Nick scooped her up in his arms and started toward her front door.
“Wait. My purse...” He lowered her to grab the bag from the floor of the front seat. As she returned her arms to his shoulders she asked, “You do this with all your dates?”
“Not usually. But then, I don’t usually take women out in the woods and get them hurt.”
“It’s not your fault. I wasn’t watching where I walked,—well, ran, actually. I’ve hiked in the woods enough to know better.”
“Why don’t you let me
feel a little responsible? It might get you a take-out dinner and some help with icing your foot.” He set her down gently at her front door and waited for her to fish her keys out of her purse.
“It’s a deal. Thanks,” she said as she opened the door. “I’ve got take-out menus from every good restaurant for miles around. More menus than food in the house, actually.” Her cat made a run for the outside as soon as she opened the door. “Do you mind corralling Pulitzer? I can’t chase her like this.”
“Happy to. As soon as I get you settled. Did I tell you last night I like your sense of humor? With her for a pet, whatever happens in your professional career…”
“I can say I have a Pulitzer, yeah.”
Leaning on him, she hobbled to the couch in her living room and fell onto it with a sigh. “The take-out menus are over there,” she said, pointing to a small table under the window in the dining room.
After he’d herded the cat back into the house and they’d eaten Chinese food he’d ordered, Nick disappeared, saying he would police up the kitchen. When he came back to the living room he asked, “Can I do anything else for you? Do you need anything?”
“I think I’ll get some ice and hobble to bed.”
“Let me get the ice and help you hobble.”
The last thing she needed was to have her stupid mistake compounded by having to rely on him any more for help. She’d do it herself. She stood and tried to take a step toward her bedroom. Her ankle crumpled and she almost fell to the floor, saved only by Nick’s quick reflexes.
“Damn it, Fee, let me help.” He put her arm around him and slowly walked her to her bedroom where he pulled the comforter down and fluffed up the pillows before gently lowering her to the bed.
“They always recommend a big bag of peas for this sort of icing down. You don’t happen to have one in your freezer, do you?” he asked.
“No, who other than a family of four ever has one of those huge bags of frozen veggies? Do you?”
“I doubt any vegetable has ever seen the inside of a freezer any place I’ve ever lived. Ice cream, ice cubes, ice packs, and the odd bottle of vodka, but never peas.”
“Exactly. Luckily there’s an ice maker in my refrigerator and plastic bags with zipper-things on them in the drawer near the sink.”
“I’ll be back in a minute. Are you comfortable?”
“I’m getting there.”
When he returned, a bag of ice in one hand and a towel from the bathroom in the other, Fiona was in the middle of her queen-size bed with the sheet pulled up over her breasts and tucked under her arms. She had left her sprained ankle uncovered.
Nick picked up the clothes she’d shed and put them on a nearby chair. “Apparently you got there—comfortable, I mean.”
“I figured I’m here for the night so I might as well.”
Laying the towel on the bed, he picked up her foot, gently placed it on the towel, and arranged the ice pack. When he was finished, he sat on the edge of the bed close to her. She took his hands and pulled at him so she could sit up. As she did, she let go of the sheet, uncovering her bare breasts. Scooting awkwardly, she got close to him and put her arms around his neck. Something about the way he’d taken care of her since she’d fallen had touched her. He didn’t seem like the world-traveling photographer who was in town for a while and needed diversion. He really seemed to care that she’d been hurt and wanted to help. It was a side of him as appealing as his dimples and infectious grin.
“It’s lonely here. Won’t you join me?”
“Are you sure? Maybe I should leave and let you get a good night’s sleep.” He moved as if to avoid her hands, but she wouldn’t let him.
“I’m sure. But if you don’t want the challenge of working around an ice pack and my ankle...”
“I’d never turn down a chance to stay with you. You’re why I came to Portland. I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“You’re right. I’d never hurt you.” Drawing her close, he kissed her, a long, open-mouth kiss she hoped would go on forever. “I’ve wanted to do this,” he nipped at her lip with his teeth, “all day. You chew your lip when you hike and I wanted to stop walking and nibble on your mouth, too.” He traced the outline of her lips with his finger. “When I was supposed to be scouting locations, I was thinking about your mouth. Even took some shots of you doing what I wanted to be doing. Not what I was supposed to be shooting but…”
“Can we discuss your photography later?” She began to pull at the bottom of his T-shirt. “Right now, I’m feeling a little underdressed. Should I ask you to bring me my clothes or…”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, I’ll join you.” She helped him pull his shirt up and off, running her hands over his chest as she did. After he pitched it in the corner he drew her back to him. This time when he kissed her, his tongue played with hers slowly, lazily building her need for him until she was dizzy with desire. She wanted to have him naked and under the sheet with her. Now. But when she fumbled with the buttons on his jeans she couldn’t get them undone.
“I have just learned to hate 501s,” she said as he stood up to take off the offending pants.
“I’ll keep it in mind the next time I buy jeans.”
When he lay down next to her, he pulled her close, saying with a surprise in his voice, “You’re overdressed now. How come you still have this on?” He brushed his fingers over the lace at the top of her panties.
“In case you turned me down, I could pretend it’s what I slept in,” she whispered. She could feel his smile against her skin as he kissed his way to her breasts while rubbing the heel of his hand against the silky fabric between her thighs. She moaned and moved restlessly under his tender assault. He began to back his hand away but she grabbed it, returned it, added one of her hands and, together, they slid her panties over her hips so she could shimmy out of them. But they caught on her bottom.
“Lift your hips,” he murmured and slipped off her panties when she did. “Tell me what you want. Show me what you want,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“You. I want you inside me.” She kissed him, playing sexy with his tongue, trying to convince him.
“We’ll get there. Don’t worry. What else do you want?”
“Touch me. Here.” She moved his hand to her sex.
There were no more words needed. She was lost in the sensation of his fingers on her, urging her toward the inevitable. Her arms were around him; she could feel the pull and play of his muscles as he stroked her. His warm breath was on her neck, tickling the edge of her ear. He took her close, so close, to climax but not over, as though he wanted her there, waiting for him, so they could go over together.
He shifted her leg out and up and moved between her thighs, already covered with a condom she hadn’t seen him open. Then with the pads of his fingers he stroked her mouth until she opened her lips and licked at him, taking the tip of his forefinger into her mouth, sucking it hard, drawing a groan from him.
Replacing his fingers with his mouth, he made love to her with his tongue as he entered her. At first he moved deliberately, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back into her in a sweet and deliberate torture. Eventually, as the sensations intensified, he abandoned the slow slide in and out and moved faster, pressing himself against her most sensitive spot. In the silence of her room all she could hear were the cries of two people caught in passionate love-making; all she could feel was the slip and slide of their sweat-drenched bodies against each other; all she knew was the steep climb to reach the top until they crashed together.
As she lay nestled against him afterward, she traced on his chest with her forefinger.
He kissed her finger. “Want me to get it tattooed?”
“What?”
“Your name. Aren’t you writing your name? Should I get a tattoo of it? Then we’ll both be pierced and inked.”
“You’re too sensible to do anything like that.”
“Not when
it comes to you.” He drew her closer and stroked her back.
What the hell did he mean by that?
Chapter 10
She felt Nick kiss the back of her neck. There were worse ways, she decided, to start the day than to have someone so decidedly male spooned around your back. “Have you been awake long? You should have wakened me.” She turned to kiss him back.
“I was enjoying the scenery. You’re even beautiful when you’re asleep.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “How’s your ankle feel this morning?”
“My ankle?” All she could feel was the touch of his hand on her face and the rest of his body pressed against her.
“The one you twisted yesterday. Or was the ankle just an excuse to hang on to me and get me to carry you into your house?”
“Oh, my ankle. Right.” She rotated it under the sheet. “It hardly hurts at all and it doesn’t feel swollen. The ice seems to have worked wonders.”
“I’m not sure it was the ice. We shouldn’t discontinue the other treatment until we know for sure what helped. It’s one of the things my mother the doctor taught me.” He brought her closer, his erection against her as he nuzzled her neck.
“Sex is therapeutic?”
“Not with anyone, just with me.”
She believed him.
Eventually she suggested breakfast and called dibs on the first shower. By the time he’d had his turn; she had dried her hair, wrapped her ankle in an elastic bandage, and was wearing a green cotton robe.
He glanced at her then at the towel he had wrapped around his hips. “If robes are the dress for breakfast, do you have one I could borrow? Preferably not the one with ruffles in the bathroom.”
“I have an old terry cloth one in the back of my closet. It will be a little short but should probably work.”
He went into her walk-in closet and came out with a brown and cream striped cotton robe. “How about this one?”
That one? The one I never wanted to see again? How the hell did he find that one? She grabbed it from him. “Not that one. I didn’t mean…it’s not…you can’t…” She threw the robe into the back of the closet, found the terry cloth one for him, then turned away.