Chapter Two
Forrest
The cabin was just what I needed. This getaway had been the thing that had kept me going as the depressing atmosphere of winter in the city lay heavy upon me. I’d gotten over the breakup with Chris quickly enough. It was more than that. I was just done with city life. Living in a place where people were in such vast numbers that you could go to the same convenience store every Wednesday for a Mega-Winnings ticket and not one person would recognize you. I was so done with city life, at least for the moment. I had high expectations his weekend away would revitalize me and get me ready to go home and start living again because, in all honesty, I’d spent the last few weeks just getting by.
That, and I had a deadline. I hated deadlines, especially when they were arbitrary ones set by an agent who was more about lining her pockets than what was best for me. We’d had a few words just before I left, and a big part of me wanted to look at dropping her. I wrote because I had stories to sell, which was not the way Lulu saw it. She thought I wrote to make myself the Steven King of mysteries. In a way, the insane success of my first book was probably not for the best. All the same, I planned to finish up this novel and get it to her by week’s end.
The snow had been coming down at a good clip for the past hour or so, and I figured I'd probably end up shoveling before the night was over. It wasn’t part of the rental agreement, but Maria, the caretaker, had mentioned she was on her way to some sort of movie night for single parents, and I should text, not call if I needed anything. I was so not bothering her for snow removal.
Maria had been amazing as she showed me around the place. She’d been taken aback when she saw the pet I’d indicated hadn’t been a dog but was immediately enamored with my fluffy purr machine. How could she not? Snowflake was pretty much the best cat on the planet.
Maria had not only set me up with some firewood, but also with cookies she said were her absolute favorite from the diner in town, so I nibbled on one as I put the kettle on for hot chocolate. The best part of a snowstorm was by far the cookies and cocoa. It was official, Mapleville was one of my best decisions ever.
That was, until I heard the garage door. I was supposed to be the only one there and Maria hadn’t used the garage, something about being banned after an incident with the door not being fully opened when she backed out. The city boy in me automatically went to serial killer, and I ran from the kitchen to the fireplace and grabbed the poker just as the door opened and a boot—the kind you wear when you break a foot—stepped inside. My shoulders instantly relaxing, knowing that, at the very least, I could outrun the intruder.
“Who’s there?” he called into the room as he hobbled in. “Answer me.”
“Forrest. This is my place for the week. You must have the wrong address.” I wondered exactly how many places Maria managed. I didn’t need this garbage. I had words to write and relaxation to be had. Followed by some shoveling thanks to Mother Nature. Dealing with a misdirected tenant wasn’t one of the tasks on my list.
“Why. Are. You. Here?” he seethed, and I took a step back before realizing I was cowering to his ass and regained the step.
“I rented the place for a week.” Part of me wanted to get the receipt and wave it in his face, but he was both hurt and angry, so I resisted that temptation. “Why are you here?”
“It’s my cabin.”
I gave him the look, the one that said he was full of shit.
“My family’s, anyway. You need to leave.”
Not going to happen.
“I already paid for the week, and Maria never mentioned anyone else.”
“Maria.” He forced a chuckle. “Of freaking course.” He hobbled to the living room and plopped on the couch, putting his booted foot up with a slight hiss.
I was officially an ass. Here was an omega in pain, and I was playing turf wars. He pulled out his phone.
“Don’t call her. She is having some kind of a movie night for single parents. Text her.”
“You really do know her.”
“I said I did.” Why would he think I made that up?
“I thought you were squatting,” he answered my unspoken question. “You still need to go.” At least he had the decency to sound upset about it.
“No can do.” I sat in the armchair, not liking looking down on him. “I have Snowflake, and that just wouldn’t be acceptable at the hotel.”
“Dude, this is Mapleville. There is always a ton of snow this time of year.”
And then, as if on cue, Snowflake came out of nowhere and began to rub against his good leg, purring like a cat many times her size.
“Mr. Grumpy, this is Snowflake.”
“The name is River.” He reached down to pet my fur ball. Not that I could blame him. She was pretty stinking irresistible. “And I’m not grumpy, just having a bad day.”
“Looks like more than a bad day.” I indicated his broken leg.
“True enough. It’s too snowy for you to go out and drive now, anyway.” Snowflake jumped on his lap and nestled in deep.
Good kitty.
“That doesn’t change the fact I have my baby here.” And even pet-friendly hotels wanted you to have your cats in crates the entire time. That would not fly with Snowflake. No, I was staying put. I just had to facilitate how to make that happen.
“She seems to be a love-the-one-you’re-with kinda gal.” She then licked his hand. Traitor.
“Not usually,” I grumbled as I got up to turn off the kettle, opting to heat some milk instead. If I was going to be stuck in the cabin with a stranger, snow falling all around, I was going to do so with the best hot cocoa and not the watered-down kind I’d been planning only ten minutes earlier.
“Cocoa?” I called to him.
“Always.”
My kind of omega.
I whipped out my phone and shot Maria a text as I watched the pot of milk, not wanting it to scorch. She shot back a reply quickly.
He what? So sorry. That’s my cousin. I’ll fix this.
Before I could respond, River’s phone exploded. Worked for me. Nothing in Maria’s text sounded like I would be displaced, so I spent the next ten minutes making the best hot chocolate I could without real chocolate to shred into it. I even decorated the mugs of hot deliciousness with marshmallows, hoping he was a marshmallow-over-whipped-cream kind of guy. If not, I’d just have to drink both, and he’d get none.
On second thought, I hoped he did want whipped cream.