Cabin Fever

by Elle Casey

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I shake my head at this pitiful mess. The two of us are perfect companions. We both need a bath and a clue. “Come over here, you little beast.” I reach over with my gloved hands and grab him, ignoring his growling bluster. “If you want to be friends, you don’t need to play hard to get.” I have so many layers of clothing on, I’m not worried about him biting me. He could go on a piranha attack and it would probably just feel like a massage. “I’m easy like that. Just snuggle up to me and we’ll be friends. See?”

  He doesn’t bite me. He just vibrates with fake anger, even when I settle him down on the couch near my chest. The copious amounts of wine I drank tell me it’s okay to have the dog near my face, even though he’s threatening to grab my jugular. I imagine this guy has survived as long as he has by acting mad even when he isn’t. Maybe he doesn’t even know when he’s happy anymore. Poor little guy. My heart melts a little at that thought.

  I throw the blanket over both of us and settle down deeper into the cushions, ignoring the siren call of my full bladder. It’s too cold to pee.

  “Go to sleep now, Jaws. It’s late and I’m tired.” I let out a big yawn and then cringe at my own breath when it comes bouncing back at me. Yikes. Better find that toothbrush first thing in the morning.

  As the warmth starts to seep in from our combined body heat, his growls turn to a whisper and then disappear altogether. As I drift off to sleep I imagine that I feel his little tongue lick my chin.

  Chapter Twelve

  I’M HAVING A NIGHTMARE THAT a bear has broken into the cabin and is coming after me. But I have a guard dog in this dream. He’s growling and snarling and scaring the bear, keeping him from attacking me.

  Yeah, Dog! Get him! Get that bear!

  “What the hell is going on in here?!”

  Hmmm. The bear speaks English. That’s something new. I’ve never had talking bears in my dreams before. Must be the cabin that’s inspiring my creativity.

  “Who the hell are you?!” he growls.

  Rude. This bear has a lot to learn about human manners.

  Then a smell hits me and it doesn’t compute. Smellovision? Since when do I have that in my dreams? My brain urges me to get up because there is something very wrong with this odor. It smells like a stinky dog who hasn’t had a bath in about a year. And it’s right up against my nose.

  “Holy crap, Jaws, have you been rolling in something?” My words are a little slurred, from the wine or the sleep I’m too disoriented to know for sure.

  When my eyelids finally peel open, I have to blink several times to get the images in front of me to make any sense. And then when they do, I shoot from my lying-down position to a sitting-up one and grab the very angry little dog and hold him against me along with the covers.

  There really is a bear in here.

  “You’d better start talking, Lady, or you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”

  “You’re not a bear.” I’m blinking too much. The wine is kicking my ass. What time is it, anyway?

  He scowls at me. “What?” His gaze drops to the table and takes in my wine glass. “Are you drunk?”

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” I’m finally getting my wits back and realizing the situation I’m in.

  Me and Jaws.

  Alone.

  In a cabin.

  In the middle of nowhere.

  And a strange man has broken and entered.

  I look out of the corner of my eye and see a knife on the counter about six feet away. My heart plummets when I realize I’ll never make it there in time.

  “What am I doing here?” he asks, incredulous. “That’s pretty rich coming from someone who broke into my cabin.”

  “Your cabin? This isn’t your cabin. This is James Oliver’s cabin. And Jana’s too, probably.” My chin goes up. “They loaned it to me.”

  He lets out a long hiss, shaking his head as his chin drops. “Fucking-A awesome.”

  He’s not reacting like I expected him to. “You know them?”

  He leaves the family room and goes into the kitchen. “You could say that.” Opening the fridge, he leans in to see what’s inside.

  “That’s my food in there, and I don’t have a lot, so don’t even think about stealing any.”

  He glances at me over the door and then goes back to his food-ogling.

  “You buy that wood out there on the porch?” he asks, his voice muffled by the fridge.

  The strange question throws me off, making me forget I should be scared. Jaws is confused too. He stops growling and sits down next to my hip.

  “Yes.”

  He stands and looks at the fireplace. “Tell me you didn’t try to start a fire with ho-logs.”

  “Ho-logs?” I look over at my pitiful attempt at fire-building, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. I used logs, but ho-logs? Is that a brand? “What’re those?”

  He closes the fridge and stares at me with his mouth hanging open. He’s kind of smiling and shaking his head.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m trying to figure out if you’re really that ignorant or if you’ve had waaay too much of that wine.” His gaze fixes on the mostly empty bottle in front of me.

  “What?” I throw the covers off me, accidentally covering Jaws. He struggles to free himself as I stand to face the intruder. “Did you seriously just call me ignorant?”

  “Did you seriously not know you have to split the logs down to a reasonable size to get them to burn? You can’t put the bigger ones on until you already have the fire going or it won’t be hot enough for them to catch.”

  I glance at the logs in the fire and realize they really do look kind of big. Oooooh, waaaait a minute. Did he say ho-logs or whole logs? I’m betting the latter.

  I shrug. “I’ve never lived in the mountains before.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Boston.”

  “It snows in Boston, last time I checked.”

  “Yeah, well, it might snow in Boston but that doesn’t mean I build fires there.”

  He points to the fireplace. “That’s not going to burn.”

  I cock one hip, pissed and still confused. “So who are you again?”

  “I’m Jeremy. And you are …?”

  The name rings a bell. Jeremy, Jeremy, where did I hear that name before?

  He answers my unspoken thoughts before I have a chance to grill him with any more questions. “Jeremy Oliver. James’s and Jana’s brother.” He pauses before delivering his last shot. “The owner of this cabin.”

  The blood drains from my face. All my plans, all my hopes, all the things I dreamed I could get done here fall away and leave me bare. I have nothing and nowhere to go. Back to square one. Again.

  For a few seconds I feel helpless and sad and ready to fold in on myself. Crying until I either vomit or fall asleep, that’s plan A. Then I look at his scruffy face, his crappy clothes that haven’t been washed in way too long, and his arrogant attitude written all over his stupid face, and I decide: No. This is not how this is going to go down. I am not leaving this cabin until I’ve painted something, that’s all there is to it. It’s not like a have a choice. It’s paint or die and I’m not ready to give up yet. I lift my chin and let him have it.

  “Well, as far as I know, you’re only one-third owner of this cabin, and the other two-thirds said I could stay here as long as I like, so sorry, Charlie, but you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.”

  He laughs a few seconds and then his jaw goes off to the side. “You’re not kidding.”

  I fold my arms, trying to hide the fact that I’m shaking. “No, I’m not, actually. I’m dead serious.”

  He gestures to the front windows. “Have you been outside lately? There’s four feet of snow out there right now. I’m not going anywhere. I barely made it up here as it is.”

  I shrug. “You can leave in the morning.”

  “Not likely.
Roads won’t be clear for days.”

  “Oh, you’re not staying here for days.” I laugh at that. “No way, José. I have work to do.”

  “Work?” He looks around, his gaze landing on my laptop. “What? You write books or something?”

  “No, I paint.” I can’t keep looking at him, so my gaze roams around the room instead. I don’t know why, but he’s getting bigger and bigger the more I stare at him. His shoulders are taking up half the kitchen.

  “What do you paint? Walls? They hire you to paint in here?”

  I glare at him. As if. “No, I don’t paint walls, don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Why is that ridiculous? You think house painters are ridiculous?”

  “No, that’s not what I said.” Now I feel guilty.

  “Sounded to me like that’s what you said.”

  “Shut up.” No, it’s not the cleverest comeback in the world, but he has me too flustered to think of anything better.

  “Shut up?” He laughs. “Did you seriously just tell me to shut up?”

  “Yeah, I did, but it doesn’t sound like you understand what that means.”

  “Oh, I know what it means, but anyone who thinks they’re going to get me to stop talking by telling me to shut up is crazy.”

  This has to be the dumbest argument I’ve ever had in my life. I look back at him and shake my head slowly, hoping to shame him into silence. “Unbelievable.”

  “Yeah, exactly. Unbelievable is a woman thinking she can come into my home and just unpack her life and start living it here without my permission.”

  “No, actually, unbelievable is a guy who disappears off the face of the earth and then has the gall to be upset when his worried siblings rent out a house to a friend in need. That’s what’s unbelievable.”

  He stares at me for so long and so intensely, I have to look away again. Dammit. That’s two points for him and none for me. No more wine for me ever. At least not while this guy is around.

  “A friend in need, huh? What are you so needy for? Boyfriend break up with you?” His mocking tone is impossible to miss.

  “Go to hell.” I storm off to the bathroom, unable to hold in my anger or my pee any longer. I’m liable to say something even worse if I stay for another second in that room with him.

  Jaws follows me in, and I close the door behind us. “That guy’s an asshole,” I say to my little friend as I peel several layers of clothing off so I can get to my jeans and pull them down.

  He lies on the floor and stares at me.

  “Look away, Jaws. You shouldn’t stare at women when they’re about to drop their drawers.”

  He glances to the side, and I have to smile at it. I’m so taming this vicious beast. Too bad the beast on the other side of the door isn’t tameable. He’s probably the one who crapped up this place with all those bottles.

  A tapping at the door has me cutting off in mid-stream.

  “What?!” I yell, louder than I mean to. How embarrassing! He’s listening to me go to the bathroom!

  “Uh, sorry to bother you. I just … you know … wanted to apologize.”

  I stare at the ceiling contemplating my horrible life. I’m having a conversation with a horribly scruffy and yet somehow still cute guy with my pants around my ankles on the toilet, while a small dog who pretends he hates me smells the entire bathroom up and makes it stink like old fish. Jeremy’s going to think it’s me doing it.

  “Apologize for what?” I say.

  “For saying that thing about you breaking up with someone. That wasn’t nice.”

  Jaws tilts his head at me and I know exactly how he feels. Is this some kind of trap, or what?

  “You’re forgiven. I think.”

  “I’m still not leaving, though.”

  I roll my eyes. Not a trap. Just an idiot.

  “Could you please go away. I’m trying to take care of business in here.”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Good. Finally.”

  Jaws lies back down while I finish up and take a few minutes to brush and floss my teeth and then put all my layers back on. Not that I care what this butthead thinks about my breath. He’ll never get close enough to me to smell this minty freshness, the jerk. Trying to kick me out of the cabin where I’m going to do great things? Figure out my shit and get on with my life? Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen. I’m not going anywhere. He is.

  Chapter Thirteen

  WHEN I EMERGE FROM THE bathroom, I find Jeremy sitting on the couch, staring out into space. Jaws is at my heels when I stop and fold my arms over my chest just in front of our intruder.

  “Okay, listen … I know it’s cold out and there’s a lot of snow, but if you got in, you can get out. So you can sleep here tonight, but in the morning, you have to leave.” I’m proud of how confident I sound.

  His smile is kind of sad and doesn’t make it to his eyes. “You really think you’re staying here, huh?”

  “Yes, I really do.” My arms fall to my sides as I start to lose my cool, confident feeling. Desperation is sneaking into my brain, bringing fear with it. Where will I go if not here? What will I do? I have no one left to beg from. “I was given this place fair and square. Majority rules. Two siblings against one. I stay, you go.”

  He’s still not looking at me. “I’m no lawyer, but I’m pretty sure that an owner’s rights trump a squatter’s rights.”

  “I’m not a squatter!” My arms fly out to the sides. “Look around you, Bud! I’m the only one not living in here like a squatter!”

  He finally looks up at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you live like a skid row bum. I cleaned more than fifty beer bottles out of here today. Maybe a hundred. What are you, some kind of alcoholic?”

  His gaze drops back down to the table and he stares and stares at it. His answer only comes just as I’m about to yell at him again. “No, I’m not an alcoholic.”

  “Yeah, right. Because non-alcoholics drink beer until every single surface in their house is covered in bottles and forget to wash their clothes and hair for weeks on end.” A very unladylike snort escapes me.

  His face morphs into a frown and his eyes lose that faraway look. He lifts his gaze to meet mine. Then he smiles. “You just admitted this is my house.”

  I play back my last words in my head and end up wanting to strangle myself. “It’s just a loose term. The point was … the point is, that you’re a drunk, and I’m not going to share this space with someone like that. I cannot create in the midst of chaos.” I cross my arms over my chest again, at this point just trying to stay warm. Standing up here in the middle of this refrigerator of a room is stealing all my body heat.

  He sighs long and loud. “All right, I hear what you’re saying. I’m not going to give you any trouble.” He looks up at me, his expression sad. “I’ll leave as soon as I can, I promise. I just need to wait until the snow melts a little or the plows come through. Fair?”

  I nod, proud that I stuck to my guns and stood up for myself. I’m a powerful woman, and he obviously can sense that about me. Already this new adventure is making me awesome. Most of the panic that had started to rise up has been quelled, and my ears have stopped ringing. I can afford to be gracious now.

  “That’s fine. That’s fair. Hopefully the plows will be here first thing in the morning.”

  “Yep.” He nods. Maybe too much.

  “Why are you doing that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “Doing what?” He smiles a little, still nodding.

  “Nodding. Why are you being so agreeable all of a sudden?”

  He laughs. “First you’re mad at me because I’m disagreeing, and now you’re mad because I’m agreeing with you?”

  I chew on the inside of my cheek as I consider how ridiculous that sounds. “Maybe.”

  “There any more beers left?” he asks, looking over toward the kitchen. “I didn’t see any in the fridge.”

  “No, there are no more beers left
. And you can’t drink my wine, either.”

  He shifts his weight and lies back on the couch, arranging the blanket at his legs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to sleep. If there aren’t any more beers, what else is there to do?”

  “You could start a fire.” I gesture at the fireplace, hope springing up in my heart.

  His eyes close. “Not with those logs I can’t.”

  “Are you telling me I bought bad logs?” I’m beginning to hate myself for being so stupid. They must have seen me coming from a mile away. Maybe that girl and Ben Carver are running a wood-selling racket, scamming tourists left and right. It’s the perfect crime; their victims freeze to death before they can come after them for retribution.

  “No, you just didn’t split ‘em,” Jeremy says, interrupting my thoughts.

  I look over at the big tree trunk parts I put in the fireplace earlier and imagine them split into pieces. A big lightbulb goes on in my brain as I remember the fires I’ve seen in the past. Of course they had split logs in them. How stupid can I be?

  Quite stupid, apparently.

  “Oh. Yeah. That would have been better,” I admit.

  “I’ll split a few for us tomorrow morning.”

  “But you’re leaving in the morning.

  “Eventually. But I can split some wood before I go.”

  I nod, watching him settle deeper into the cushions. Jaws stepping on the top of my foot wakes me up to our next problem.

  “You can’t sleep there,” I say.

  “Why not?” He doesn’t even open his eyes. Instead, he folds his arms over his chest and smiles. “Kind of feels like I can.”

  “Because, that’s my bed.”

  His eyes open but the rest of him stays put. “There’s a bedroom here with beds in it, you know.”

  “I know that. I just don’t want to sleep in it.”

  “How come?”

  I shrug. I’m not going to admit to him that I’m afraid of being that far from the center of the cabin. It makes no sense, but I can’t let him get the upper hand, thinking I have a weak spot.

  “It’s too cold,” I say, as my excuse. I’m not even sure that claim is true since I haven’t even gone in there yet, but it sounds reasonable to me.