by Alexa Ross
She drove slower, her hands clenched over the steering wheel with purpose, wishing she’d made time to change her tires to snow tires. Of course, she hadn’t had much time for anything before she’d left town in such a hurry. She’d allowed her life to explode before her very eyes, watching as her relationship shattered, the shards scattering. She was left to make up the story of the rest of her life, without Austin. Certainly without Tori.
CHAPTER THREE
Kenzie parked outside the cabin, gazing up at the brightly lit windows. She imagined Bryce within, stretched out on the couch and gazing at the fire. Probably, all thought of her had drifted from his mind the moment he’d left her, while she’d been left to linger over the memory of his firm, muscular torso, that twinkle in his eye, and the shadow of loneliness that crept over his face.
Kenzie lifted the bottle of wine from the passenger seat, telling herself it was now or never. But as she maneuvered out of the car, she realized the snow had begun to pick up, already putting a half-inch of firm precipitation on her windshield. She shivered, hoping she would be able to get out of the driveway. She was imagining her tires squealing violently before her car tipped down into the trees surrounding the cabin.
Removing her mittens, she rapped several times on the door. Inside, she heard raspy rock music coming from a crackly speaker. She remembered it from long before, when her mother and father had danced in the kitchen, their love still strong and their movements matching.
Bryce appeared on the other side of the door, peering at her curiously behind his blond-tinged beard. He frowned, realizing she was coated in newly fallen snow. “Gosh, I just looked outside. This kicked up in no time.”
Kenzie smiled, unsure how to respond. She shrugged slightly and held out the wine bottle, still shivering. “I thought I’d bring this. As a thank you for yesterday. You were a great help.”
Bryce sniffed, unable to keep his laughter in. “You picked a great time to do that, didn’t you?” he said. But his sarcasm was in good spirits. He gestured toward his living area, and the fire. “Please, come in. Let’s open that bottle of wine. I really don’t think you’ll make it back to your place tonight. Not with those tires.”
Kenzie blushed. “I’m sorry. I should have checked the weather.” She entered, swiping snow from her shoulders. She got a better look at the cabin, at the walls made of rustic, wooden slabs, at the crooked table, at the warm blankets and pillows lining the couch. She began to unzip her coat, feeling immediately at home. “I’ve been a little out of my head lately, and this vacation hasn’t done much to help that.”
“It never does, does it?” Bryce said, laughing. “Come on, sit down. I’ll open this wine. It looks wonderful. Normally a beer drinker myself. Maybe just because the picture doesn’t look right: me, wearing flannel, sitting in a cabin, drinking wine.”
“Well, you don’t have to drink—”
“No, no. The difference, now, is you,” Bryce said, his eyes centered on hers. Tension filled the room, reminding Kenzie of their apparent chemistry. She broke eye contact, flashes of her first moments with Austin going through her mind. Had she felt these things with Austin? Had she assumed everything would go all right with him as well? If so, she didn’t want to be foolish again. She didn’t want to march down that treacherous path.
Bryce found a wine opener in his cabinet and popped the cork with a flourish. Kenzie perched on the edge of the couch, watching him and allowing her feet to warm from the licks of the fire. His quietness made her feel awkward, compelled to fill the silence.
“What did you do today?” she asked him, feeling tentative.
“Oh, not much,” he answered. “Went hunting early this morning. Cut some more firewood. Lost myself in a book. Went for a walk through the trees.”
“Ah. Sounds like a dream,” Kenzie murmured. She imagined him deep in the forest, a gun across his shoulder, scouting for meat. It was animalistic, this intense attraction to him, but she couldn’t refute it.
“I suppose it seems like the cliché life of someone up here,” Bryce said, pouring them each a glass of wine. “Brooding in a cabin all by himself. It’s a romantic novel, maybe, not a real life.”
“I’m in no position to tell anyone what kind of life they should live,” Kenzie said, laughing. “And I could never hack it. Truth be told, I came all the way up here today because I couldn’t get my fire restarted. It’s a fool’s errand, my vacationing here.” She grinned sheepishly.
“I assumed it was something like that,” he said. “But I needed the company, at least for tonight.”
They clinked their glasses, the sound ringing in Kenzie’s ears. She sipped the wine slowly, her eyes closed, trying to soak in the sensation of just being in his presence, of smelling his rugged musk.
“I don’t know anything about wine,” he said, breaking the silence again, “but this is delicious. I think it’ll go wonderfully with what I had planned for dinner for tonight.”
Kenzie tilted her head. Her stomach felt stretched and empty, as if it contained only a cold rock. “Oh?”
“I don’t suppose you’re hungry, are you?” he said, a smile stretching across his face.
“Oh, I suppose I could eat,” Kenzie said, placing her long fingers over her abdomen. “Maybe just a little something. Can I help?”
“Let me do it,” he insisted, his eyes blue and bright. “It’s been a long time since I’ve cooked for someone else. Besides, you probably had a long day on the slopes.”
“Ha. Don’t remind me,” Kenzie said, leaning back. “I feel like my ankles are going to give out just walking around.”
“I used to ski. Maybe 10 years ago, I would hit the slopes on days I didn’t need to go hunting. But it just felt meaningless after a while, all that up and down. I couldn’t figure out what it was for after a while. I would rather be alone in the woods, thinking, hunting.”
“I had similar feelings today,” Kenzie said, gazing up at him as he rose, heading toward the kitchen. As he walked, his back muscles rippled beneath his flannel. “What are you making?”
“Venison,” he said, his voice gruff. He left the kitchen for a moment, stepping out onto the back porch, where he removed some meat from a cooler. “I usually get a few deer a year. I try never to take too much from the woods. I only take what I need to survive.”
Kenzie tried not to look too hard at the venison as he prepped it, salting and peppering the meat before setting it in a skillet. As the meat began to heat, he chopped vegetables on a cutting board, whistling along with the raspy music that was still coming from the speaker. He continued to talk, clearly liking having someone to speak his thoughts to. Kenzie wondered if he often spoke to himself, alone in the cabin, his voice echoing against the wooden walls.
“I got these vegetables from the last harvest. Down the mountain, there’s a widow, Laurie Smith, who has me do odd jobs for her. She mostly pays me with vegetables from her garden. I’m nearly out. Started to freeze the last of them. Going to be a long winter up here. It always lasts till May.”
Kenzie got up from the couch and wandered over, eyeing the bright green peppers and the many layers of onions, their juices squirting with each slice. Her stomach growled. She prayed Bryce couldn’t hear it. “How long have you lived here?” she asked finally.
“Since I was 18,” Bryce said, his words firm. “So nearly 12 years now. I’ll be 30 in March.”
“Wow,” Kenzie said, unable to imagine living anywhere for 12 years, let alone somewhere so lonely. “Have you ever considered leaving? Trying anything else?”
Bryce shrugged slightly, clearly not willing to consider the question. “I found a home here. As far as I can tell, most people on this planet are always on the hunt for the place where they feel the safest, the most secure. I don’t need to search for it. It’s right here.” He gestured with his knife toward the cabin, including the small living room and a dark doorway, which she assumed led to his bedroom and bathroom. “A man like me doesn’t need much.�
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Kenzie was impressed, if saddened. She stood a few feet away from him, still assessing the strength of his biceps, the way his eyes grew softer as he became more accustomed to her. “All my life, my mother told me to find a man who would take care of me, who wouldn’t allow me to feel lonely, and, most of all, who would pay for my every whim. I think I was bred with the belief that you weren’t allowed solitude.”
Bryce dropped the vegetables into a pot of water and considered her words. “I hope you don’t go into relationships with that mentality,” he said finally. “That they’re meant to fill a hole in your life.”
“I might,” Kenzie said, her voice soft. “I don’t know. I’m still reeling from the last one.”
Surprised at her honesty, Kenzie didn’t speak for a while, sipping her wine and watching as Bryce cooked the rest of the meal. The meat browned and then blackened, and the vegetables grew soft and salty, seasoned with herbs. He worked with incredible skill, his face stoic and concentrative. Kenzie poured herself another glass of wine, conscious that she’d grow less embarrassed and offer more excitement to the conversation if she was just the right amount of tipsy.
She set the table with two plates, two forks, and two large steak knives. Bryce apologized, softly, for not having much—and certainly not any “fine dining” equipment. Kenzie just shrugged, laughing and finally breaking the tense, almost sexual feel of the air around them. “Why in the world would you need fine dining dinnerware?” she asked. “You’re a mountain man. You could eat your venison with your fingers if you wanted to.”
“And if I did that tonight?” Bryce asked, his face brightening. “What would you do?”
“Probably join you,” Kenzie said, joking.
Finally, Bryce placed the venison on each plate, along with a heaping pile of vegetables. He poured himself another glass of wine, lifting his elbow in a fluid motion, and then turned the radio volume down, giving the dinner a more intimate feel.
What are we doing? Kenzie asked herself, suddenly panicked now that the dinner was feeling more and more date-like. And do I want it?
They sat across from one another and dove into their food. Kenzie slid her knife into the tender meat and took a small bite, closing her eyes. She chewed languidly, trying to avoid making any noise. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself staring into Bryce’s bright blue ones. He looked expectant.
“What did you think?” he asked. He looked like a hopeful child, despite being five years older than she was.
The taste still slid down her tongue, making her brain ignite with energy. “Oh my god,” she said, joyous. “It’s the best food I’ve ever had.” She took another bite hurriedly, pleasing Bryce. “Seriously. It’s different than anything from the grocery store. I can’t believe I haven’t eaten like this before.”
“Straight from the woods,” Bryce affirmed, swiping a napkin over his mouth. “No preservatives. No hormones. It’s made me healthier than ever, since I began hunting.”
Kenzie blinked several times, remembering that Bryce had arrived at the cabin at age 18 and hadn’t made plans to leave. Didn’t that mean he was resigning himself from the rest of the world, from really living?
After another bite, she dredged up the nerve to ask him. “Why did you come here in the first place?”
After a pause, Bryce gave her a coy smile. It was clear he wouldn’t cooperate with her. “Why did you come here?” he asked. “This is my home, not yours. I’ll ask the questions.”
Curious about why he wouldn’t open up to her but feeling drunk enough to dive into her own emotional few days, Kenzie began.
“Well, I came here because of a guy,” she said, shrugging and laughing at herself. “Isn’t that how every story begins?”
“I don’t know,” Bryce said. “I don’t hear many stories.”
“Well, trust me, this is a cliché,” Kenzie said, her face growing warm. Her eyes flickered toward the window, watching as the snow continued its heavy slant to the ground. “I met Austin a few years ago, at work, and we hit it off. I thought he was really good looking, and, above all, he was good to me. After watching the way my father treated my mother, I wanted someone I could trust.”
Bryce nodded, taking another bite of his venison. Despite only having eaten half of hers, Kenzie felt completely full, wanting only to drink more. She had a small appetite and currently felt far too excited to bog herself down with food.
“Things were good for a while. At least, in my eyes they were,” she said, images of Austin passing through her mind. “I thought we would surely get married. I’m 25 now, and he’s a few years older. I genuinely imagined picking out baby names with him.”
Bryce didn’t interrupt her, although she gave him every reason to. She jumped around, speaking about her mother, about her stepfather, and about the real estate business, all to try to paint a portrait of why she had arrived in these mountains all alone, without a single ounce of fire-starting ability to her name.
“Anyway, I thought I’d surprise him for lunch a few days ago,” Kenzie said, getting to the end of her story. She pressed her lips together, hoping her teeth weren’t stained red with wine. “I stood outside, stupid enough to think the owners of the apartment were the ones making love inside. But when I called Austin to explain what was happening—”
“A phone rang from inside?” Bryce asked, finally breaking his silence. His eyes were dark now, and he was clearly upset by the story.
“And it was him,” Kenzie whispered. “I couldn’t believe it. Tori was good looking, sure. Huge boobs and long blond hair. Not even a caricature, really. She was smart, funny, a true 10 if you’re rating her.” Kenzie blushed, knowing she sounded foolish. “I couldn’t compete with her.”
“So you quit your job,” Bryce said, taking their plates and setting them in the sink without rinsing them. He refilled their glasses. With his free hand, he kneaded Kenzie’s tense shoulders, noting that she’d scrunched them up mid-story.
“I can’t afford it,” Kenzie whispered, swiping her fingers beneath her misty, near-tearful eyes. “But I took a few days off. Pathetically, my boss knew about the affair. It seemed the entire office did, but nobody bothered to tell me.”
“You can’t go back there, Kenzie,” Bryce said, his voice deep. “It’ll destroy you, body and soul. Running away from your problems is sometimes the only thing that keeps you alive. Give yourself the out.”
Kenzie considered his words, biting her lip. The thought of never returning to her career in Concord filled her with dread. She got up from the rustic dining room table and wandered toward the window. As she sipped her wine, she realized the snow had stopped falling, leaving a glistening blanket over their vehicles and the twiggy trees.
“It stopped,” she murmured, thinking Bryce would probably want to drive her home, especially now that she’d birthed such a dramatic, girlish story into his solitary cabin.
“It’s gorgeous. It’s the perfect time of night to see it,” Bryce whispered, appearing beside her.
Kenzie paused, wanting to ask him about his personal life, about why he’d moved here in the first place. She craved knowledge about him. But as her eyes slipped toward him, she sensed a barrier he’d built, perhaps long ago, between himself and the outside world. She swallowed harshly, trying to clear her head. But still, even as minutes ticked by, Bryce made no mention of Kenzie needing to return to her frigid cabin.
“I have an idea,” he said. He scratched at his beard, looking contemplative. “But it might be reckless. And it might hurt those weak ankles you were talking about.”
Kenzie laughed. “Pay no attention to my weak ankles. I’m stronger than I look.”
“All right,” Bryce said, making penetrating eye contact with her once more. His eyes seemed to drink her in, making Kenzie feel uneven. “I’ll ask you, point blank, and then you’re required to answer honestly. I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”
“Are you sure? I am a real estate agent,” Kenzi
e said, smiling.
“Decently sure,” Bryce said. “Do you want to ice skating with me?”
Kenzie blinked wildly, her mind jolting from answer to answer. “I’m—um, isn’t it a little late to go ice skating?” she asked.
“Absolutely not. It’s the perfect time,” Bryce said, turning toward an antique trunk positioned against the wall near his bedroom. The trunk was rugged and had clearly been lugged on countless moves and stationed in old, creaky cabins for many years. Bryce unlatched it like cracking open a book and then lifted two pairs of ice skates from the bottom. The skates gleamed in the soft light from the fire.
“Wow,” Kenzie whispered, awestruck. “You’ve just had these lying around, waiting for some girl to come ask you for firewood?”
“Ha,” Bryce said, knocking a bit of dust from a skate. “It might appear that way, but actually, Mrs. Smith, the lady I often work for, gave them to me when I cleaned her house last. They used to belong to her and her husband. But she’s too old to skate now. Has arthritis. I’m sure they haven’t been used in many years.”
