She’s been in that room all day. I look at the closed door as I whisk the gravy I’ve whipped up with a fork. I’m pretty sure I made her cry earlier.

Not that she didn’t deserve it. We’re stuck in the storm of the century out here and she’s trying to take selfies while I’m out scrounging for food? It’s ridiculous. I drop the fork against the side of the pot with a clatter, splashing some boiling gravy onto my hand.

“Fuck!” I yell angrily, pulling my hand up. I quickly stick my burned flesh into one of the many containers of snow I’ve gathered on the counters and stare out the window with my jaw clenched tight. What a careless mistake. I look down to the red patch growing over my skin despite the ice fighting to keep it contained.

What is it about her that gets me so worked up? I don’t have to think about it very hard. I know the answer. I know why her obsession with social media burrows under my skin like a tick and bleeds me dry of my sympathy for her.

She’s not the one you’re mad at.

I know that. I’m not an idiot.

She didn’t kill your family. She didn’t destroy your reputation. This isn’t her fault.

I gaze out into the bleak, snowy night and try to push away the shadows creeping across my mind. No good comes from reliving that shit. No good comes from remembering any of it.

“Hey, are you ok?”

I spin around too quickly, still angry about my burning hand and frown at the owner of the soft voice cutting into my thoughts.

She looks like a vision. Now, most of her makeup that she had caked on has either worn off or been washed away. Her big, blue eyes meet mine and I can’t help but notice how supple her skin is. I want to run my hands over her. To feel her beautiful long hair tangled around in them. To squeeze her plump ass that she loves so much.

My hand.

I look down at my angry skin, then up to Ashley. I can tell she’s one of those girls that, for whatever reason, can’t see her own beauty. That must be why she needs all the makeup and all the pictures and all the internet fame. I wish she could see herself right now through my eyes. How the setting sun radiates off her skin. How her locks shimmer around her face like a sunset reflecting off a Hawaiian shoreline. She’s not even trying, and she looks like a fantasy that no amount of photo manipulation could replicate.

“Yeah, I just burned my hand,” I admit.

“Oh, no. Is it bad?” She closes the small square footage between us and grabs my arm, lifting my hand toward her face. My palm looks abnormally large next to her delicate features. It’s rough and calloused from chopping wood and working the land. It looks like a monster’s paw next to her natural beauty.

“It’s fine,” I pull away from her. “I don’t need a nurse,” I answer gruffly. Too gruffly. I don’t mean to hurt her feelings, but I can see from the pain that flashes over her eyes that I have. I instantly regret my words. All of them. The ones I just spouted off and the ones I angrily mocked her with before.

I take a deep breath. It’s not her fault. Stop taking it out on her. The thought tugs at my conscience. “Thank you for trying to help though. I appreciate it.” I force myself to sound less like a snarling bear caught in a trap and more like a normal person.

“No problem. The food smells good,” she looks up at me, like her words are an olive branch and she’s waiting to see if I’ll take it.

“Thanks,” I smile down at her. “I’m, well, I’m sorry I threw the meat at you earlier. That wasn’t right. I made us a nice supper though. Braised rabbit with mashed potatoes and gravy,” I point to the massive mess of pots I’ve managed to collect on the stove. I’ve never claimed to be a clean cook. A good cook, absolutely. But with my culinary skills always comes the trade off of a very messy kitchen.

“The potatoes aren’t great, they’re from a box I found in one of the cupboards,” I continue, “but the gravy should more than make up for it. I couldn’t believe how many spices they have up here. Almost everything you could imagine. I mean, within reason. It’s not stocked with saffron or anything, but, still…” I ramble. I forgot how much I enjoyed cooking with a wide variety of spices. At my family’s restaurant, we had every seasoning you could imagine. Even the rare and expensive ones.

“What?” I look down at her biting her lip and peering over at the stove full of food behind me. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, so you really did cook the rabbit?” She looks up at me with her eyebrows arched up in the center.

“Of course I did. What else would I do with them? Make slippers out of them? Why?” I feel my jaw jutting forward and my teeth setting back on edge.

Ashley shakes her head and her hair bounces around on her shoulders as she looks at the floor.

“What’s going on?” I push her.

“I can’t eat a bunny. I just can’t do it,” she whispers and flickers her eyes up to meet mine.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You haven’t even tried it. It’s delicious,” I squint at her. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I am, I just, I don’t think I can do it. I don’t know, I had a rabbit as a pet at one of the homes I lived at for a while and I’d feel bad to eat one.”

“Well, it’s not like I stole some kid’s floppy-eared fucking pet. These are wild hares. It’s not the same.” I try to keep my voice even despite my temper flaring up. I spent all day either hunting for this food or cooking it and now she’s going to turn her prissy little nose up at it?

Beep-bop-beep-beep!

Ashley and I both look over at the radio I have resting on the counter and I cock my head and listen.

“This is an extreme weather warning. For the entire San Miguel region. The icy nor’easter continues to decimate most of Colorado. Millions are without power as lines are downed from the weight of the snow. There is no end in sight for this treacherous weather and authorities are advising to stay indoors.”

As the radio goes back to speaking in Morse code, Ashley looks at me suspiciously. “Where did that come from?” She nods at the red, crank radio.

“I brought it. Sometimes, when people head off on adventures in the woods they actually prepare for it.” I talk to her slowly, like she’s incapable of understanding the basics of life. Maybe she is.

“See?” I pick it up and hold it in front of her face with mock enthusiasm. “When you crank this magic lever here, you can either use the radio or, prepare to be amazed,” I sneer at her, “when you push this button here,” I flick the switch, “it’s even a flashlight.”

“You don’t have to be such a dick all the time!” She sticks out her bottom lip and storms over to the fireplace.

“Yeah, well, what kind of dick are you? I’ve spent all day trying to get you something to eat and you won’t even try it!” I roar, my anger finally getting the best of me.

“Oh yeah, well what kind of guy spends all his time trying to make some woman he doesn’t even know feel bad about herself?” She trembles as she yells back, clearly not as used to the anger welling up inside her.

The radio cuts back in before she has a chance to say anything else.

“Due to hazardous weather conditions the search party for Ashley Young has been postponed today. Search and rescue crew aren’t happy to report that this delay is necessary for the safety of their staff. With each hour that goes by, it is less likely that the social media darling can survive these extreme conditions.”

Ashley crosses the floor and flicks the switch muting the man predicting her demise.

I breathe her in. That sultry scent of summer strawberries ignites my soul and I close my eyes to imagine the two of us naked on a lazy July day, spending the entire afternoon fucking and picking berries.

“Listen,” I reel my tone back in. You attract more flies with honey, right? “It sounds like you’re going to be stuck here for a while. Who knows how long this is going to take to blow over. You have my word that once the weather cooperates, I’ll take you back to Telluride, ok? But in the meantime, you’ve got to eat. You look like if you miss three meals you’ll die of starvation. Please, just give supper a try.” I point back at the sprawling mess of pots on the stove.

“I think I’m just going to go to bed,” she answers, defeated and disgusted. As if I just offered her cockroach stew or something.

Ashley makes her way back to the room she’s been hiding out in all day. Her shoulders are slumped forward and her head is hanging.

“Fine! Go to bed hungry. I don’t care. Maybe you’ll get a gourmet dinner in your dreams!” I growl angrily. “Don’t come out here in a few hours and try to eat this because I won’t be sharing it with you!

She slams the door shut for the second time today and I’m left staring at the same empty space I’ve been occupying all afternoon.

So much for playing nice. Or for having some company to eat with for once. Or for controlling my temper.

All in all, I’d say it was a huge failure.