by A. J. Wynter
He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. “Emma, you were right.”
I tilted my head at him. What was I right about?
“It wasn’t a badger. They were bear prints... grizzly bear prints.”
I pulled my hand from his. This was not what I was expecting. “Why would you lie about that?” I should’ve known that he wasn’t going to spill his secret identity. I wrestled with disappointment and anger.
“I didn’t want you to be scared.”
“Should I have been?” I turned to face the door, waiting for a giant bear paw to kick it down.
“They’re usually more scared of us. And if it was still around, Dumpster put the run on it.”
“I thought that bears hibernated.” I shifted back on the couch, far enough that he couldn’t touch me.
“They do, but sometimes they’re a little late. He was probably looking for a bedtime snack.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” I crossed my arms across my chest, but then let out a deep breath. Being angry at the man wasn’t going to move the investigation forward.
“What would you have done if I told you it was a bear?” he said, leaning forward.
I sighed. “I probably would’ve freaked out.”
“Emma, I’m sorry about that. I hope you can understand why I did it.”
I could. “Are we in danger now?” I glanced at the door again, it seemed awfully flimsy.
“No, you’re safe in here and Dumpster, he’d never let anything happen to you.” At the mention of his name, the white and brown spotted dog sleeping in front of the fire perked up his ears and then settled his chin back down on his paws.
I jerked upright as I head two loud thumps and whipped my head from right to left. “What was that?” I whispered.
“I think Yogi might have come back for a visit,” Chase said.
“Oh, my God. Do you have a gun?” I glanced around the cabin, hoping to see a few rifles hanging on the walls.
“I can’t,” Chase shook his head at me.
“Can’t what? Shoot?” I was training my ears for any other signs or sounds of the visitor.
“That was Prickles,” he laughed. “I’m sorry, for a reporter you are really gullible.”
I reported on politics and finance, not a goddamn nature channel. I smacked his shoulder and then rested my hands on my knees. “Wait,” I asked. “What the fuck is a Prickles?”
In response, a giant tabby cat strolled out from behind the bed, sauntered over, and rubbed against my legs, purring. “That’s Prickles.”
“You’re something else, you know that?” I looked at him and shook my head. “I may not know what a bear paw looks like, or the difference behind a bear busting down the door and a... a fat-ass cat jumping off the bed, but I’m not an idiot. I have won the Peppersea Journalism award – TWICE!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I was out of line.” He held his hands up in front of him. “It’s just, I mean. I just...”
He was struggling. I let him. I picked up my mug of tea and relaxed back into the sofa.
“I’m sorry. I thought it was funny.” Then he did something I didn’t expect. He let his head fall into his hands. “It’s been so long since I’ve had company and I think I’ve forgotten how to do it.”
My broken ego melted along with my heart. “I thought your cat was a bear. That IS funny.” I took a sip of my tea. “I guess I’m just used to being independent. You know on my own, too. I mean, this,” I gestured around the room. “I’m totally out of my element here.”
“It’s weird that they would send you on a story like this then, isn’t it?” he asked. Rightly so. I decided to be as upfront as I could. “The newspaper is hemorrhaging reporters. They didn’t have anyone else to do this story. I didn’t have any other good assignments. I haven’t for years, so I decided to take it on.”
“Well, then I guess we should stop chit-chatting and show you where the magic happens.”
I spat the tea back into my mug. “What?”
He smiled wryly. “The mechanical room.” He stood and held out his hand to help me up. “What did you think I meant?”
I handed him my mug. “I think I’m done with this,” I said. He chuckled and poured it down the sink. “Let’s start with the water pump, shall we?”
I followed Chase into a backroom that was filled with black boxes flickering with green lights. “Those are the batteries,” he gestured to the bank of boxes like Vanna White. “They store the power from the solar panels and the wind turbine.”
“They’re enough to power this house?”
“Usually,” he replied. “I can run almost everything off these without having to start up the generator. “Think hot things, toasters, dryers, curling irons.” He flicked my hair. They use up a lot of power, but everything else is powered from this room.”
He spent the next hour showing me drawings of his system, discussing the placement of the panels, and showing me his impressive pantry of hand preserved food. “Want to finish off the tour with a sample of my marmalade?”
“Sure.” My stomach growled. It had been a long time since we split that burger.
He pulled a metal plate with holes out of one of the open cupboards and rested two pieces of bread on its metal arms, setting the whole thing over the burner on the stove. “Is that your toaster?” I asked.
“Sure is,” he smiled.
I was dubious about the toasting capability of the metal thingy, but when the slightly charred bread was smeared with butter and the tartest, yet sweetest, most delicious marmalade I had ever tasted, I couldn’t help but moan.
We were leaning against the counter in his kitchen. “This is delicious.” I closed my eyes and took another bite. The dog was sitting in front of me staring me down, wagging his tail.
“Stop begging,” Chase ordered the dog. He glanced up at me again with his big brown eyes, but then slunk back to his spot in front of the fire.
“I swear your dog just rolled his eyes at you,” I laughed.
“He’s a mooch,” Chase said and popped the last of his toast into his mouth.
He brushed off his hands and handed me a linen napkin with a ‘T’ embroidered in the corner. “Thank you,” I dabbed the corner of my mouth with the expensive fabric. “You don’t see too many mountain men with custom linens.”
He cleared his throat. “We should get you back. Do you have all the info you need?” he asked. He moved to pull the napkin from my hand, but I ran my finger across the T. “I thought that you said your last name was Smith. What does the T stand for?”
Chase took the napkin from my hand and tossed it on the counter. He shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me, I got it at the thrift store.” He walked over to the door and handed me my jacket. “We should get you back before this storm sets in.” He shoved his feet into his big black boots, and I balanced on one foot while I tried to peel off his wool socks.
“No. No, you keep those,” he laughed. “A souvenir from the time you were almost attacked by a bear.”
I stood up and whipped his arm with the sock. I’m not going to forgive you for that you know.” I laughed and bent to put the sock back on my foot.
“I’ll go start the truck.” Chase pulled open the door.
“Oh no.” I heard Chase say from behind me.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re not going anywhere...”
I paused and turned around and when I saw the snow piled up waist high at the door, I dropped the boot I was holding. I stood up and peered around Chase. He picked up a flashlight from beside the door and shining it through the fat snowflakes, we could barely make out the truck-like mound in the snow. It had to have snowed over two feet in the time I was here. How could we not have noticed?
I knew the answer to that. I was enthralled with the man. But this was his deal. “Shouldn’t you have noticed this?” I gasped.
“Yep,” he nodded. “This was a terrible mistake.”
“No kidding,” I agreed.
“No.” He shut the door. “Bringing you here.”
“Oh,” I stood there with one boot on my foot. “Well, I’m sorry for being here.” I could feel my cheeks burning. “If I could leave, I would.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed. “It’s just, these storms, they can last for days.”
“Days?” I repeated.
“Days,” his voice petered out and I heard him mutter ‘shit,’ under his breath.
That’s when I knew I was trapped out here in this tiny cabin, for who the hell knows how long, with Chase Titan... mountain man.
Chapter 10 – Chase
THE SNOW WAS SO HARD-packed and battered by the brutal wind that it didn’t fall into the house when I opened the door. Plus, there was a solid waist high drift of snow blocking us from leaving the cabin. I was worried. But not about the snow. Storms like this were common and there were plenty of winters when the door was completely snowed in. I was worried about being stuck with her.
She looked like she was frozen, with her foot half-shoved in her boot and its laces dropped on the rug. I should’ve known better than to bring her back here. I thought I could show her the hive setup and then get her back to town before dark. I hadn’t expected the last four hours to disappear, and I definitely hadn’t expected the snow squall warning to leave me with a full-on blizzard to deal with.
I shut the door. With a little luck the snow would taper off and I’d be able to get her out of here and forget that a woman had ever darkened the doorway of my cabin.
“That’s a lot of snow,” she said.
“Oh, that,” I waved my hand dismissively. “That’s nothing.”
“I can’t tell if you’re messing with me,” she pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips.
“I’m not messing with you,” I laughed. “I’ve had to dig out of this doorway on more than one occasion, that’s just a little snowdrift.”
“How are we going to get out of here?” she asked.
I stepped behind her and held the shoulders of her jacket as she shrugged out of the puffy down. “There are a few ways, but we’re going to have to wait until it’s light outside. I have to apologize, they were calling for isolated squalls, that...” I pointed to the door, “was unexpected.”
I hung her jacket next to mine and stepped out of my winter boots. This was awkward. I didn’t know her, but I hadn’t been out of touch with reality long enough to realize that she could potentially be afraid because she didn’t know me.
“I’ll make us some dinner and then I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ll get up at dawn and start clearing the snow. I’ll have you back to Windswan first thing. You have my word on that.” She kicked off her boot and walked into the kitchen. “Tell me where to start.” I exhaled with relief. She didn’t seem scared of me or the situation.
“How about some leftover liver?” I watched for her response, having learned that it was easy to get a smile or laugh out of her. And while she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever met, when she smiled, she became radiant.
“You’ve got a tell, Jack.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter.
“A tell?” I pulled some ground venison and carrots from the fridge and shut it.
“Yeah. Your lip twitches twice when you’re about to fuck with me.”
“Oh really?” I bent down to pull out a cast iron pan and turned to face her, handing her a vegetable peeler.
“Yeah, right here,” she reached out and tapped the right side of my mouth with her fingertip. I reflexively touched the spot where her finger had been only seconds earlier. Her touch left my lip tingling. I jerked my hand back from my lip and unwrapped the brown butcher packaging.
“How did you learn to read people like that?” I asked.
“I guess it comes from interviewing thousands of people,” she said. “Do you have a cutting board?”
I pointed to the wall where several nails held up the entire contents of the kitchen and she pulled down one of my hand-carved wooden cutting boards. “You would be surprised how many people lie to your face when you’re a reporter.”
“Is that so?” I had been lying to everyone for so long it felt like second nature. Now I wondered if my lip twitched every time I said the name ‘Jack.’
“Especially the politicians,” she chuckled and started to peel the carrots. I clicked on the burner and started to brown the meat.
“Do you like venison?” I asked, praying that she did. It was the only meat I had in the house. Thankfully, I knew she wasn’t a vegetarian by the way she wolfed down her half of my burger this afternoon.
“You know, I’ve never tried it,” she smiled.
“How about we do a shepherd’s pie? The ground venison is mixed with beef and when it’s all put together with the potatoes and veggies, you probably won’t even be able to tell.”
“Sounds good.” She was working her way through the pile of carrots and had started peeling the potatoes.
“Do you have a tell?” I asked as the meat sizzled in the pan.
“Oh, Jack. If I did, I would never tell you.” She shot me a side glance.
“I’ll figure it out,” I smiled and grabbed for one of the peeled carrots.
“Did you say something about music?” she asked. “And why is he staring at me?” Dumpster was at Emma’s feet, gazing at her like he was in love.
“Carrots are his favorite.” I crunched into the carrot and tossed the end onto Dumpster’s bed. He bounded after it and I switched on the radio to the only station. Take it Easy by the Eagles crackled through its tiny speakers. “I only get the easy listening station from Chance Rapids,” he laughed.
“I like the Eagles,” Emma smiled and bit into a carrot.
“You’re too young to like the Eagles.” I returned to the kitchen and pulled out some yellow onions. It felt good to have someone to talk to. Someone who didn’t know who I was, or why I was here. I felt years of anxiety melting away as I let myself relax beside Emma. Her presence was warm and comforting. I glanced around my cabin. It was spartan and definitely favored function over form, but the fire was crackling, the kerosene lamps dancing, and the whole room had a warm orange glow. Dumpster and Prickles were napping, and I was cutting vegetables next to a gorgeous woman who thought I was funny.
Holy fuck, what was happening? I sniffled and wiped a tear from my eye.
“Are you okay?” Emma glanced at me.
“Onions,” I said, shrugging and pointed to the pile with my knife. She nodded and continued chopping.
It wasn’t the onions.
We mashed and chopped and assembled and soon the shepherd’s pie was in the oven. “Would you like to play cards or something?” I asked. I had a well-worn deck that had only ever played solitaire. “Sure,” she answered as she washed her hands off in the sink and dried them on my tea towel.
“Hey, Jack,” she began. “This might be a longshot, but have you got any wine?”
“Oh, my God, of course.” I looked at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I didn’t offer you a drink.”
“I think it would go nicely with dinner,” she smiled.
I headed into the pantry, the biggest room in my whole cabin, and emerged with a nice cabernet. I had let my fingers linger on one of the expensive bottles, but on the off chance that the woman knew her wines, I left the thousand-dollar bottle covered in dust. I couldn’t let her wonder why I had a wine cellar that would rival the trendiest restaurants in the city. It was the one thing I couldn’t give up from my past life.
I opened the bottle and left it on the counter to breathe. Emma was crouched on the floor petting Dumpster. “He’s way too cute for such a mean name.” She scratched his ear and then stood up and brushed his fur off her jeans. She sat down beside me and Prickles jumped up on the couch. “Her too,” she laughed as the cat head-butted her jawbone. She stroked her back and she purred in appreciation.
“You’ve made a couple of friends,” I smiled. They were my be
st friends, and I was glad that they liked her and vice-versa.
“Jack,” she said as she turned to me. I perked up at the serious tone in her voice. “Really, what’s with those terrible names.”
I shuffled the deck of cards, “They’re not terrible, or mean.” I continued to shuffle. “For the longest time, they didn’t have any names at all.”
“What?”
I dealt us each a gin rummy hand. “I didn’t want to have any pets, but those two... well, they kind of forced themselves on me.”
“Forced themselves on you?” As if on cue, Prickles made herself at home, curling up in my crotch. “I named them after the places I found them – Dumpster was in a dumpster, and Prickles was under the raspberry bush. They were both strays. I planned to get them back into good health. This little girl was skin and bones...” I patted Prickles. “But when it came time to take them to the shelter, I couldn’t do it.”
“Aw,” she reached out and scratched Prickles under his chin. “They adopted you,” she smiled.
“I guess you could say they did.”
“That’s such a sweet story,” she smiled.
“Let me get the wine,” I offered and started to push Prickles from my lap.
“Don’t you dare disrupt that cat,” she ordered. “I’ll pour the wine.” She took the two steps required to reach the kitchen. “Let me guess, you drink out of these mugs.” She reached for one of the pottery mugs that hung from the hooks on the ceiling.
“Actually, above the fridge, there are some actual wine glasses.”
“Fancy,” she laughed and stood on her tiptoes to reach for the glasses. The cupboard wasn’t really that high, but she was a shrimp. As she pulled them down, they chimed together. “Are these real crystal?” she asked.
“I think so,” I played dumb. “I got them from the thrift shop too. You can’t drink wine out of a coffee mug. I may be a recluse, but I’m not a beast.”
She laughed and returned to the sofa with the two glasses. “Oh, while you’re up...” She had just sat down.
“Yes,” she chuckled and stood back up.