by Nikki Chase
Fuck. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since yesterday.
It took me forever to even start functioning like a normal human being when she left town.
I was never delusional enough to think I was over her, though. How could I when I compared all girls to her, and they always fell short?
I did, however, start to think it wasn’t as intense as I remember. Perhaps it was just because I was younger then. Maybe my memories are playing tricks on me.
But, it only took one short glimpse of her to make all those feelings come flooding back.
Even before she stood up, as soon as I saw that red hair behind the counter, my heart did a backflip in my chest. After all these years, I still see her everywhere, and I dismissed my first thought of that girl being her.
But for once, it was her. Sophia. My Sophia.
She probably hates me. She hid from me and barely said anything to me. I kept hoping she’d emerge from the restroom so we could . . . I don’t know, talk, maybe . . . but I never saw her again after that.
I can’t blame her for hating me, of course. I pushed her away. I wanted her to hate me—that would make it easier for both of us.
Well, I got my wish. The situation isn’t ideal, but I can’t say I regret my decision.
I squint as I draw close to the cabin.
What the fuck? The snow has almost covered them, but . . . Are those footprints in the snow, leading to the front door?
This place is pretty secluded, so I’ve had squatters in the past who have tried to claim the cabin for themselves. They broke in and made themselves comfortable, raiding my food supplies and making a dirty, stinking mess.
I park a little further away from where I usually stop. In this heavy snowfall, the only two cops in town probably won’t be able to come here very quickly.
I’ll have to take matters into my own hands, and I don’t want to announce my arrival with the sound of the truck engine. It’s not a problem; I’m more than capable of taking down some homeless bum on my own.
As I get out of the truck, rifle in hand, I’m glad I came prepared.
I was hoping to spend my morning hunting small game in the woods behind the cabin. It’s one of the few things that forces me to focus all my attention. It was supposed to help take my mind off Sophia.
But, it’s looking more like I’ll be catching an intruder and dealing with the cops for the rest of the day instead. Great. Just fucking great.
I step through the slushy snow that’s starting to pile up on the ground and approach a window. I peer inside, my hands ready to aim and fire the rifle if necessary.
I hope I won’t have to hurt anyone. But, no matter what, I can’t let some fucking bums, who are potentially dangerous, take over the cabin.
I don’t know what I expected to see inside, but it sure as hell isn’t a half-naked woman asleep by the fireplace.
Who the fuck breaks into someone else’s property and falls asleep? How long has she been in there that she has already made herself that comfortable?
Narrowing my eyes at the female form, my heart races.
That long, wavy, flaming red hair . . . That smooth, creamy skin . . . Those gentle curves . . .
She can’t be . . . No, of course not.
Sure, Sophia is in town. But, I need to stop thinking every red-headed girl is her.
Why would she enter my cabin and sleep naked inside? It doesn’t make any sense. After all these years, she has probably lost her copy of the key.
Besides, how would Sophia have gotten here in the first place? Did she walk all the way from Ashbourne? Did she hail a cab and ask to be dropped here at my cabin just so she could take a nap in her underwear?
Don’t be an idiot, I tell myself. Of course, that’s not Sophia. Don’t let your obsession make you lower your guard now.
The intruder may be a woman, but that doesn’t mean she’s harmless. She may be hiding some kind of weapon close by.
I peek inside through the window again. Nobody has made a sound, and I see no other person inside. Maybe she’s alone.
I can easily overpower a lone, female bum.
But then again, I’ve only seen “her” from the back; it’s possible the intruder is a “he.” And, there may be more than one trespasser inside.
I won’t take any chances.
First, I’ll throw the door wide open and hold her at gunpoint. Then, I’ll make her put her hands up in the air and tell me if she’s alone. Lastly, with the mouth of my rifle pressed against her back, I’ll make her take me to every single room and closet in the cabin.
Adrenaline enters my bloodstream, giving me a surge of energy. I turn the doorknob—the door’s unlocked. Maybe this bum isn’t so smart, after all.
I kick the door open and point my rifle at the figure asleep by the fireplace.
“Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck are you doing here?” I demand in a loud voice.
The figure jerks awake and immediately reaches for something blocked from my view by her body. A gun? Some other kind of weapon?
“Hey!” I bark.
She freezes. Good.
“Don’t move. I have a rifle pointing right at you,” I say. “Turn around slowly. Put your hands up high over your head.”
As she sits up, her hair tumbles down her back. The flame sets her hair aglow as her shadow dances on the wooden floor planks.
For a moment, I’m convinced I’m looking at Sophia. This scene reminds me so much of all that time we spent together, here in the cabin.
I shake my head, exorcising the delusional illusion.
But, as she turns her head toward me, my heart stops.
“Sophia?” I ask.
“Hi, Eli” she says softly, her hands raised in the air as her big, green eyes tremble with fear. “Can I at least put on a shirt before we talk?”
“What . . .” I start to speak, but my voice won’t come out. I clear my throat and resist the urge to tell her no, tell her she should strip down to nothing instead.
My eyes take in the glorious sight of her—her blazing hair, her creamy tits, her porcelain skin.
I take a deep breath. I should say something before I make this weird.
“Of course. Of course, you can put on a shirt,” I say.
“Thank you.” Sophia reaches her delicate hand behind her to grab a piece of clothing and put it on. The fabric appears dark and heavy, like it’s wet.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, lowering my weapon. I close the door and force myself to look away from her—a feat of willpower when the long legs that have dominated my dreams for years are right in front of me.
“I . . . My car broke down, and I had to take shelter in here,” she says. “Sorry. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“That’s okay.” I enter the living room and take a seat on the couch, facing away from her and the fireplace. As I rest my rifle on the coffee table, I hear fabric rustling from her direction. “How did you get in here?”
“I still . . . I had the key in my glove compartment. I was driving my old car.”
“I didn’t see it outside.” I look through the window at the snow covering the ground outside. It’s so empty I would’ve noticed another car.
“Yeah. It’s parked just around the bend. The engine just stopped working while I was driving. I remembered your cabin was close enough for me to walk here.”
“Are your clothes wet?”
“Yeah.”
“Here.” I grab a blanket from the couch and hold it out for her. “You can use this.”
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary,” she says. “Don’t worry. I was just about to leave.”
“You can stay if you want.”
Please stay, I say in my head. I’ve dreamed about this moment, the moment I see her again, a thousand times, over the years.
“No,” she says without offering any explanation.
“Or, I can drive you back into town,” I offer.
“No, I don’t w
ant to trouble you.” Sophia walks across the living room, completely dressed in her shirt, jeans, and jacket—all blotchy and heavy with moisture.
“Where do you think you’re going in those wet clothes?” I ask.
“Eddie will be here any minute now. I’ll just wait for him in the car in case he gets there and doesn’t see me,” she says.
“That’s a stupid plan,” I blurt out, annoyed that she’d rather suffer through the cold outside than stay here with me where it’s warm. Does she really hate me that much?
“Who are you calling stupid?” she asks, staring sharply at me.
“Nobody.” I sigh. “Look outside. There’s nobody out there. If a car passes through, I promise you, you’ll hear it from here. You were sleeping, so don’t tell me you were just leaving anyway.”
“I’d still rather wait in the car,” she says.
“Eddie is swamped with work because he’s just gotten back from his vacation. It could be a while before he gets here,” I say as calmly as I can. “It doesn’t matter how you feel about spending time with me. You don’t have any other choice. Stop being stubborn and listen to me, for once.”
I look up at Sophia and realize maybe I’ve said the wrong thing.
She stands with arms crossed, glaring at me. She doesn’t seem to realize that her posture is pushing her tits up and forward, making them look even more tantalizing through the gap in the front of her jacket.
But I won’t mention it. She seems angry enough as it is.
Sophia
How dare he talk to me like that, like he knows me? Sure, he used to be the person who knew me best . . . even better than my own best friend.
But, I’m a different person now. I’m a grown-up, and he doesn’t get to order me around like that.
For all he knows, I had already set up an alarm to go off so I would wake up around now.
For all he knows, Eddie could have already called me and told me he was coming.
For all he knows, my clothes aren’t wet but just patterned.
I stare at him. After the way he broke things off between us, he doesn’t have any right acting like he knows me.
But, at the same time, I can’t deny he’s right.
He looks up at me from the couch, his dark gaze steady and calm. The flame from the fireplace behind him casts his face in shadows, making him appear sinister and dangerous. He exudes a certain alpha quality I can’t quite pin down, a certain authority I can’t just dismiss.
“Fine.” I realize my voice sounds bratty and petulant, so I add, “If you insist, I’ll stay.”
“Good,” Eli says. “Take your wet clothes off and put on this blanket.”
I grab the striped fleece blanket from his hand. He has taken off his own jacket. I can’t help but notice his beautiful, veiny forearms and big, masculine hands.
“Don’t peek.” I walk around the couch to stand between the back of his couch and the fireplace.
“Of course not,” he says. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
What does he mean by that?
I’m glad Eli’s not looking my way because his careless words are enough to send a chill down my arms. My face heats up, and it’s not just because of the flame from the fireplace.
My heart races, making it hard for me to take off my clothes as my fingers grow unsteady. But eventually, I manage to shed my shirt again and wrap the large, warm, soft blanket around myself.
I take a seat in front of the fireplace, letting my skin soak up the heat again.
“Are you done?” Eli asks.
“Yeah.”
I don’t turn around when I hear the floor planks creak under his weight. Somehow, I know he’s about to join me.
Eli drags a big bear rug toward the fireplace and sits down on it. “The rug is much softer than the floor,” he says. That’s an invitation, I guess.
I plant my butt on the animal pelt. It really is soft. It’s warm, too.
“Why are you sitting so far away from me?” he asks.
“It’s a big rug.” I shrug.
“I won’t bite.” Eli cocks me a crooked smile. “Are you afraid your city boyfriend will be angry if you get too close to some dirty, country bumpkin?”
“No.”
“Is there a husband who might get angry about it?” Eli asks.
“I’m not married.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.” I don’t know why I give him an honest answer. If I really want to make it seem like I’ve been doing well in the city without him, I should tell him what a great time I’m having with my sophisticated, city boyfriend instead.
Eli’s lips spread into a small smile, but it doesn’t escape my attention.
That answer pleases him, for some reason. Is he feeling smug because he thinks I haven’t gotten over him? Or, does he want me for himself?
Don’t be silly, I scold myself.
If Eli wanted me, he could’ve had me. There was a time when I would’ve dropped everything to be with him.
Things are different now. It’s been seven years. We’re different people.
Besides, have I seriously forgotten what I did yesterday in front of him, how much of a fool I had made myself?
My mind thinks back to the cupcakes he bought yesterday. It looked like he was a regular at Bertha’s shop, too. Surely, he doesn’t buy them all for himself.
I certainly can’t imagine a rugged mountain man like Eli to be a big fan of Bertha’s sweet, pretty, little cupcakes, even if they’re delicious.
“Why is that?” Eli asks.
“Huh?”
“Why no boyfriend?”
I shrug.
“I see.” He nods.
“What do you see?”
“You’re still chasing your dream career, huh?”
“Something like that.” Partly to change the subject and partly to satisfy my curiosity, I ask, “Is there a wife who might get angry about a naked girl being alone here with you?”
Eli chuckles and shakes his head.
“Girlfriend?”
“Nope.” Eli gazes at me. A reflection of the flame dances in his eyes as his lips curl up into a smile.
“Why is that?”
Eli shrugs.
“You’re what, thirty-two?” I ask, knowing full well how old he is. “Most people are already married at twenty-five in Ashbourne—or so my mom tells me every time we speak on the phone.”
Eli bursts out laughing, filling the log cabin with the happy sound. “So, your mom is anxious to see grandchildren, I take it?”
“Hey, it’s my turn to be asking questions, Eli,” I protest playfully. “Why aren’t you married? Don’t you believe in love?”
“I do.” Eli smiles. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but it disappears in an instant.
“I don’t.” I avoid his gaze and stare at the flame, afraid of what he might see in my eyes.
The room is quiet except for the crackle from the fireplace and the ticking of the clock.
“It didn’t use to be that way,” Eli breaks the silence.
“What?”
“You used to believe in love,” he says, his voice so gentle I might forget how cruel he can be. He speaks as if he wasn’t the one who broke my heart, all those years ago.
“Yeah, well, I grew up,” I say the words casually even though my chest tightens.
“Things were different then,” Eli says.
“Yeah, they were.” I speak through the lump in my throat. Oh, how things have changed.
“Do you ever miss those days?” he asks.
I hesitate. All the time, I want to say. But instead, I ask him, “Who doesn’t miss their younger days?”
Eli lets out another amused chuckle. His eyes take on a faraway look, like he’s seeing an old film reel play in his mind. “You’re right. I know I do. I miss those days all the time.”
“You do?” I ask, genuinely surprised. I stare at him.
“Of course.” He fixes
his gaze on me. “Remember how we used to come here all the time, whenever Angela was busy with something else?”
“Yeah . . .” I carefully answer. We’re getting into dangerous territory here. I can feel my heart beating faster, just like it did whenever Eli was around.
“I was supposed to be ‘hiking,’ and you were ‘at the library,’” he says, drawing air quotes with his fingers as he laughs softly. He gazes at me with the same tenderness I saw in those stolen moments.
“Yeah,” I say again as my heart jumps to my throat.
“I loved those moments. I loved being here with you. Just you and me.”
Eli’s deep baritone sends vibrations straight to my heart. How can he still make me feel this way after all these years?
With just a few words, he has transported me back to a simpler time, a happier time. A time when we had a chance to be us, no matter how limited.
Eli sits up and leans closer, making my heart hammer in my rib cage. I almost can’t believe it when he puts his big, warm hand on my cheek and caresses my skin. He tilts his head as he looks deep into my eyes like he can’t quite believe I’m here either.
“What are you doing to me, Sophia?” he asks softly. “Why does it feel like . . . like we’ve never left?”
I look up into his hypnotizing eyes, nuzzling into his hand. “You’re doing the same thing to me, Eli.”
“I remember everything.” He lightly runs his thumb over my lower lip. “I remember how these lips used to taste. They were the sweetest thing.”
My body remembers his touch, too. As soon as he starts to lean closer, my eyelids flutter shut. I don’t even think about it.
Then, I wait. I wait for what I know is coming, what I’m sure must be coming. I know because it has happened hundreds of times before in real life and thousands of times more in my dreams and fantasies.
When Eli’s lips brush against mine, they feel firm. Smooth. Hot. His arms wrap around me, more comforting than the blanket I’m wearing and warmer than the flame burning beside us.
As his mouth teases me, coaxing me to respond, I part my lips and let him sweep inside. He traces my bottom lip with his tongue and nibbles on it, harder and harder until it start to hurt. He has always enjoyed mixing pleasure and a little bit of pain.
