Chapter Twelve

Calla

I paced around the cabin, frustrated with nothing to do. I felt like a five-year-old, whining and complaining about it. It had been a very long time since I had felt bored with nothing to occupy myself. No house to clean, no deadlines to meet—well.. scratch that. I had a deadline, but without a laptop, I couldn’t do much writing. His little home was fairly clean, and I had a feeling he would be insulted if I took it upon myself to do any heavy cleaning.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you need me to do?” I asked, when Jake emerged from his bedroom.

“No. There’s nothing for you to do. Relax. Take a nap.”

“I can’t take a nap. I’m going a little stir crazy in here.”

He shrugged, “I need to take care of some things. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to keep you entertained.”

“You mentioned you had a laptop. Can I borrow it?” I asked hopefully.

He grimaced. “It is dead. I don’t use it often. I haven’t charged it in a while.”

My shoulders drooped, “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I can charge it with the generator the next time I turn it on,” he offered.

“That’s okay. Thanks, anyway.”

“Sorry. Really, just, uh, make yourself at home.”

I watched as he whistled for the dog and headed out into the snowy weather. I moved to look out the kitchen window. It was absolutely gorgeous outside. It looked like a scene from a Hallmark Christmas movie.

That gave me an idea. While a laptop would have been nice, I could still jot down some ideas. I dug out the notebook I had borrowed from Jake and started writing. I wanted to get the snowy scene just right. If it wasn’t so damn cold and I had proper attire, I would have gone out on the front porch to really experience the scenery. For now, the kitchen window would have to do.

A blast of cold air snapped me out of the writing trance I had easily fallen into.

“Are you done?” I asked hopefully.

“No. Casper’s coming in and I need my other gloves.”

He wasn’t being overly rude or even quite as abrupt as earlier, but I could feel the wall between us. He wanted me on one side and him on the other. He was being polite to the point of cold and aloof.

“Are you sure I can’t help you at all?”

“Calla, have you shoveled a lot of walkways or chopped a lot of wood?” he asked, in a somewhat joking manner.

I shook my head. “No, I guess not.”

“Trust me. I can do this. Relax and enjoy a break from your everyday life. There is really nothing for you to do. If I need help, I’ll ask.”

I groaned in frustration. “Fine. I can take care of any inside chores you need doing.”

He looked like he would say no again, but then he finally caved in. “Fill up those empty jugs with water. There are a couple of large pots in that cupboard you can fill with water as well. I need to shut off the generator, which will shut off the pump.”

I smiled and was practically giddy with the idea that I had an important job to do. “Got it! Anything else?”

“No.”

I put down the pen and notebook and waltzed into the kitchen. I turned to see him watching me from the doorway.

“Something else?” I asked hopefully.

There was a strange look on his face. I waited. The moment was over as quickly as it had arrived. He pulled up his scarf, covering his mouth and walked outside.

I used the remaining water from one of the jugs to fill a small pot, which I placed on the stove to heat. Then, I quickly filled the other pots I found, along with the empty jugs. An eerie quiet settled over the house and I realized it was due to the generator being shut off.

I hadn’t realized how quiet it was up on Jake’s mountain until now. It was absolutely peaceful. That little detail was going in my notes.

“Okay, now what?” I said, hands on hips and looking around the house.

My eyes landed on the heap of food on the kitchen table. I looked at the packages of meat, realized they needed to thaw and put those in the sink. I did what I could to neatly pile the carrots, onions and potatoes he had brought in.

I glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of the dog frolicking in the snow. It was a heartwarming scene. Casper was hopping around Jake as Jake pushed a shovel through the snow, creating a path to what I assumed was a shed of some kind.

That was it. I couldn’t stay cooped up in the cabin another minute. I pulled on my dry snow pants and jacket. My boots were still a little damp, but the wool socks Jake had lent me kept my feet warm. I grabbed the notebook and headed out the door, leaving my gloves on the floor in front of the woodstove. I wanted to write and couldn’t maneuver the pen with the clunky things on.

I walked outside, the cold air taking me a little by surprise.

“Whew!” I said, blinking away the cold from my eyes.

“What are you doing?” Jake asked, looking up from the shoveling.

“I wanted some fresh air.”

“It’s cold.”

I shrugged a shoulder. “I won’t be out long, plus I’m warm.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled through his scarf as he went back to work.

I looked to my left and nearly hooted with glee when I saw a wooden rocking chair. It was too good to be true. I sat down, opened the notebook and started writing.

My thoughts drifted from what I was describing to the man I was describing. Jake had many sides. I longed for the man I had for five minutes last night. That was only one part of him. There was the man who had made me coffee and oatmeal. Then there was the angry man who wished me away and then there was the man I saw before me. He was in his element doing serious manual labor, his faithful dog by his side.

As I watched him shovel, I wondered if he had PTSD. I had interviewed several vets of all different ages and many of them suffered from PTSD. It looked a little different in each of them, but the underlying symptoms were generally the same. I had a feeling it was what drove him to live out here, far away from the civilized world.

I knew better than to ask him about his reasons for living alone, or his time in the war. I would have to settle for the mystery man.

Just then, he stopped shoveling and looked up at me. His blue-eyed gaze meeting mine. I found myself holding my breath. His eyes said more than his mouth ever would. I could see lust. I knew he wanted me, but for some really, really stupid reason, he was denying himself.

He broke the eye contact first and went back to shoveling. Casper bounded up the steps and came to stand beside me.

“Can you let him in?” I heard Jake’s muffled voice.

“Yep.”

“Come on, boy. Have you had enough snow play?”

The dog raced for the door and patiently waited for me to open it. I followed him inside, remembering I had put water on the stove to heat. After stripping off my snow gear and hanging it back up on the hooks, I carried the water to the kitchen sink.

“I bet he likes coffee all day, huh?” I asked the dog who was turning in circles in front of the woodstove. “Let’s make him some coffee for when he comes in.”

The dog could care less. He had settled in for a nap. I remembered where Jake had stowed the coffee and dug it out of the cupboard. I had never actually used that kind of old-fashioned coffee pot, but figured it couldn’t be all that hard.

“I hope this works,” I said, putting the pot on the stove like I had seen him do.

Then it was time to wash the few dishes in the sink. As I washed, I found myself humming and dancing. I was actually enjoying myself! I looked out the window and let my imagination carry me away to a life I had never thought I would want.

Jake had finished shoveling and was now carrying armloads of firewood from the shed to the porch. I watched as he lugged what looked to be a heavy ax to an old stump. Then it was more logs. He dropped the logs on the snow, stood one up on the stump and swung the ax.

“Wow,” I muttered, completely turned on by the rather mundane chore.

I had never realized how hot wood chopping could be. If only the man had been shirtless. I would have killed to see his bare chest and those huge biceps flexing with each swing. As he hit the log with the ax, a lovely sensation rocked my pussy. I imagined all that force pounding against me. I jerked as he hit the log again.

“Holy shit,” I whispered as I felt myself grow wet. “You’ve got it bad, Calla.”

My hands were in the warm water, but I couldn’t move or concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing. I was mesmerized by the show outside. I wanted to cum. I could feel it. A few more whacks and I would orgasm.

When he stopped and carried the axe back to the woodshed, I almost cried.

“No! Not yet. A little more, please,” I moaned in frustration.