I felt like a child in a toy store. All I kept saying was, “Wow.” Anthony’s cabin was incredible to drive up to. He’s got a heated four-car garage! I found it astonishing that someone would pay to heat a garage. I understood the extra insulation, but to actually heat it was something else. He explained that he didn’t like being uncomfortable. I think I’d be uncomfortable with the heating bill.

The exterior was amazing, and it just blended in with the trees. The deck by Anthony’s front door had heavy lacquered wood log benches and heat lamps. Again, for comfort. Inside was amazing. It was an open floor plan, and there was a huge great room that spilled into a nook and kitchen. Immediately off to the left of the entryway was a guest room and a full bathroom.

The kitchen was decked out in Viking appliances and the thickest black countertops I’ve ever seen. I ran my hand over it; granite. His table was a large, rectangular lacquered slab of thick wood. It was the perfect mountain retreat table.

As I walked around with him, I noticed that nothing was half-assed here. It was all heavy, masculine furnishings that perfectly complemented a lush cabin. The floors were solid wood, and Anthony pointed out that they were heated floors.

“Heated floors,” I said as I crouched down and pressed my hand against the floor. “For comfort?” I asked him as I stood back up.

He nodded. Everything here was for comfort, it seemed. None of the furnishings were cheap, vacation home type of stuff. While everything would easily be comfortable for anyone, there clearly was a tie to not being cold.

“You have a thing about the cold, don’t you?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I hate being cold, Col.”

I just nodded, but felt like being warm was very important to him. I didn’t ask him anything further about it but knew something was probably behind it. Anthony was twenty-seven and in killer shape. He was a solid guy, yet didn’t like chilly weather. Which would explain why he loves Las Vegas so much. The great room had a natural wood burning fireplace, and the mantle was all stone stretching from one end of the room to the other.

Upstairs there was a large loft, also decked out with the heated floors and an “L” shaped leather sectional with a plush football sitting on it. The loft had the only TV in the place, and the walls were decorated with San Francisco 49ERS and San Francisco Giants memorabilia. I glanced around at all of it because I was a huge Niners fan too. There was a shadow box with black cork board inside and it had four San Francisco Giants ticket stubs tacked to the cork with orange push pins. On top of the shadow box was a Giants bobblehead figure and a plastic mini Giants batting helmet. I looked closer at the tickets. They ranged from 1993 -1996 and were all in April. They obviously meant something to him. Otherwise, I don’t think he would have held onto the stubs for all those years. I was curious and asked him about them. He was messing with putting another piece of memorabilia on the wall when I asked him.

“Are these games special for any reason?”

He turned to look at what I was looking at and referring to. Anthony set the framed picture of Candlestick Park down on the floor and came over to me and glanced at the tickets.

“Yeah. My dad took me to those games. My birthday was in March, but baseball season didn’t start until April. So, for my birthday in March, he gave me tickets for us to go to the Giants first home game in April.”

I nodded and smiled at him. It reminded me of when my dad took my brother and me to games for our birthdays. Anthony was the same but had never said anything about it. Then he made a comment that made me wonder about him and the cold again.

“Candlestick was always fucking cold in April.”

I laughed and nodded at him. Finally, we unloaded his truck and started putting stuff in its place. I had finished putting things away in his kitchen when I went to look for him. He was out on the back deck, close to the heat lamp and was messing with the potted tree he brought from home. He had the tree close to the deck in the corner and was messing with the soil. I gave him shit about bringing this little potted tree all the way up from Vegas during our drive. He really fussed over this tree as I sat down on the warm bench and watched.

“Need any help with that?”

“No, I’ve got it. It’s got fresh soil and water.”

“Water?” I asked and went over to him.

He pointed to a black rubber tube that came out of the wall on the deck. Anthony had gone to the extreme of making sure this potted tree would have water. I wouldn’t say that he was obsessed with the tree, but I could tell that it meant something to him, too. It looked like a stunted pine tree and was maybe three feet tall. The pot had a 49ERS decal on it.

“The Dom and his tree,” I joked.

The guest room that I slept in was upstairs and to the right of the loft. The sheets were flannel and extremely warm. The cabin was deathly quiet but I could hear the wind outside. I woke up in the middle of the night to a noise, though. I thought nothing of it at first and figured it might be Anthony up. It went on for a while and then I began wondering if we left the TV on in the loft. We watched football highlights before going to bed last night.

I walked to the loft to check on the TV and noticed it was off when I heard the noise again. It was coming from Anthony’s room. I frowned and walked closer and listened. It wasn’t a TV, and it didn’t sound like he was jacking off, so I pushed the door open. He looked like he was having a horrible dream or a nightmare. He was twisted entirely up in the sheets and blankets, thrashing around. I walked forward, feeling like I should do something, but stopped. I didn’t want to make anything awkward or startle him, so I backed up to the doorway and firmly knocked on the door. I used enough strength in my knocking to wake him up fairly quickly. He bolted up and looked really out of it when he turned on the light.

“Hey, I thought we left the TV on,” I said to him.

He started rubbing on his chest, and that’s when I noticed that his shirt was soaked in the front. He must have been having a nightmare, and I felt bad for him because I could tell that he was really bothered by it. Maybe even embarrassed.

“Sorry, Col. Did I wake you up?”

I didn’t want him to feel bad about having a nightmare. It was messing with him, and I didn’t want him to worry that he had woke me up.

“I just thought we left the TV on and when I went to check, I heard you making noise.”

He nodded and swung his feet over the bed and looked down at the floor. I felt awkward and regretted waking him up because now he seemed stalled.

“Sorry, about the noise, Col.”

“No, don’t worry about it. The Cal Bears score probably gave you the nightmare,” I lightly teased.

He nodded and smiled before getting out of bed.

“I’m going to go get something to drink. Sorry again about the noise,” Anthony said as he pulled off his wet shirt and changed into a dry one.

He sidestepped me in the doorway and started down the stairs. I let him go and went back to my room. And damn, these floors are wonderful to walk on with bare feet.