by Emily Bishop
I step into an old shed and bring out a red metal toolbox. She sifts around inside and plucks out a flashlight and a few other tools before she opens a compartment and gets to work.
“I wasn’t aware they taught the trades at finishing school,” I say with my arms crossed.
She glances back at me and scoffs. “I own a lot of bakeries, remember? I didn’t get successful managing them from a tower. A good boss gets in at the ground level and understands every aspect of how things work. You think I want raw dough if the power goes out in one of my places?”
It’s practical, really, but surprising. I find a new level of respect for this woman as she tweaks a few wires and tries the generator.
When it doesn’t turn on, she glances back at me and asks, “No gas?”
“No. It’s getting cold enough to get it set up. You want to try some?”
“I mean, it’s your fix. Do you want to try some?”
I grin and walk back into the shed. I pull out a sloshing gas can and pour some into the nozzle then step back. Rayne doesn’t miss a beat. She turns on the generator, and it hums to life, like new.
“That was easy,” she says, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Now what are we going to fix?”
I can’t help myself. I simply stand and stare at her while she waits for the next project. I remember seeing a picture of her once in a bright red ball gown. That woman and this one do not reconcile… or maybe they do, and that makes her all the more alluring.
She balls her hands into fists and plants them on her hips. “Oh, come now, Lorn. If you’re going to be stunned by a woman who can work a machine, we’re not going to last long out here.”
“What made you go into the food industry? Why didn’t you want to get into the family business?” I’m curious about her. How much is she willing to share? Clearly her reasons for being here are out, but there’s a whole lot of life that came before this. Just who is the real Rayne Carr?
Her expression darkens, and she looks away as she sets the tools back into the box. “I don’t want to be a lawyer. It’s not my thing. I’ve always been more of a creative person anyway.”
I take the tool box and the gas and place them back inside the shed. When I step back out, Rayne’s demeanor has changed.
“I think I’d like to go back to my cabin now, if that’s all right.”
“Of course it’s all right. You paid good money for it.”
That warm glow that enveloped us after sex this morning is dissolving in the cool light of day. I don’t know what I said to turn her off, but she’s not looking at me as we hike back up the hill and trudge down the path to her cottage. When we get there, no smoke pours from the chimney.
I guess that’s what she wants though, isn’t it?
I walk her up to the front porch steps even though I can tell I’ve triggered something unpleasant in her. I glance down and notice a boot print in the snow. It doesn’t match my treads.
“Huh,” I say.
“What?” Her eyes are still anywhere but me.
“Just noticed this footprint. Doesn’t look familiar. Definitely a man’s foot though.”
“What?” Rayne’s voice is panicked as she kneels and stares at the boot print like her life depends on demystifying its origins. “What the hell is this? Why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?” Her tone has risen several octaves, and I step back.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, and I didn’t tell you sooner because I just noticed it. Why are you freaking out?”
“I’m not freaking out! Just leave me alone. I need to figure this out, and I need to lock myself inside, now.”
This is ridiculous. Whatever she’s hiding, it’s not good. What did she bring to this place?
Or whom?
Chapter Eleven
Rayne
I kneel on the frozen ground and evaluate the print. I don’t know what I’m trying to find. My heart is pounding, and the pulse beats through my entire body. A drop of sweat slides down the side of my face.
“Rayne.”
When I glance up, Lorn’s eyes are stormy. Actually, he looks pissed. What does Lorn have to be pissed about? I’m the one who’s in danger here. When he doesn’t say anything else, I stand. Even then, I’m still dwarfed by him. My bravado falls flat.
“What?” I ask after a heavy pause.
He crosses his burly arms and glares down at me. “When are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
I shiver as a stream of ice cold realization flows down the back of my spine. How much does Lorn know? How much hasn’t he given away? Is he working with Larry?
Even as I think it, I know it can’t be true. Lorn comes from a different world than Larry does. Also, he’s been fleeing his own stuff.
That still doesn’t mean that I can trust him with the truth.
“I told you,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Yeah. You did. And I call bullshit. So, now’s the time to let me know what it is you’re running from and why. What did you get into?”
“Why I’m here is none of your business,” I hiss back. “And I’d advise you to stay out of it.”
“Oh, and here I thought you were trying to get away and rejuvenate yourself from the harrows of everyday life. Yep. This is what that feels like. My vacationers often freak out at the sight of a fucking footprint in the snow.”
“Watch your tone! You don’t realize who you’re talking to.” It’s a shitty line. Even as I say it, I feel like a spoiled little princess.
Lorn laughs at this, as he should.
He is, in fact, much richer than I am. Much richer than almost anyone on the planet.
“Oh, I know exactly who I’m talking to. I let myself get distracted by your pretty face and the fact that you jumped me the first chance you got. I shouldn’t have let you in my cabin in the first place!”
“I never wanted to go into your cabin, if you remember. I wanted you to take me home. You’re the one who lured me there!”
“Lured? I lured you to safety? You’re the one who kissed me!”
“You kissed me back!”
“I’m a starved man. Clearly, I wasn’t thinking straight. You’re all the same, aren’t you?”
“Oh, so you’re going to compare me to a gold digger who tried to scam you? News flash, Lorn! I don’t need anything you have to offer.”
“I offer protection. You’d know that if you bothered to trust me like I’ve trusted you,” he growls.
“Oh, please. I know nothing about you, and that’s the way it should be. You’re nothing but a caretaker.”
“And you’re nothing but a snob.”
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”
“I’ve never pretended to be anything more than what I am. You are a woman, and one who clearly cannot be trusted. I’ve a mind to rescind your reservation and send you packing back to where you came from.”
“I believe the fine print has this lease as nonrefundable, but nice try.”
“Nonrefundable on your end. As the owner, I have the right to kick out any tenant who is behaving in a dangerous manner,” he snaps.
“What about me is dangerous?”
Lorn looks back down at the footprint then back at me. “You tell me.”
It’s an open invitation, but I can’t accept it. The man is threatening to kick me out simply because I want my secrets to be my own. As someone who grew up in the limelight, frankly, he should know better.
I kick snow over the footprints and take a step closer to the cabin.
“There. Problem solved. Now are you going to evict me from the premises, or can I enjoy the rest of my vacation in peace?”
He glares down at me, the picture of intimidating. I don’t back down. Finally, he takes a step back. “Your satisfaction is of great value to us, Ms. Carr. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay and will do my absolute best to stay out of your way.”
“That’s greatly appreciated. Goodbye.”
I turn on the heel of my
boot and stomp up my porch stairs. I open the door and slam it shut behind me without looking back.
Who does Lorn think he is, butting into my personal life? He’s the one who chose to share his past history with me. That doesn’t obligate me to confide in him. Besides, it’s one thing to have a bad relationship. I, on the other hand, am hiding from a stalker. It’s kind of different.
I lean back against the door and wait for my breathing to calm down. That man is beyond infuriating. I can’t stand him. I may come off as entitled, but he’s the one demanding information he has no right to ask about.
No one else knows about this. If they did, I doubt Larry would have gotten out on parole. A niggling thought tickles the back of my mind again.
What if he has changed? What if he realized the error of his ways in prison, and I’m being paranoid?
Then I remember the boot print. The flash of light Lorn thought he saw in the woods. What if I’ve been followed? Is there anywhere in the world I’ll be truly safe, if not here in the middle of freaking nowhere?
My breath escapes in little puffs as my breathing slows. I’m so tempted to open the door to see if Lorn is still out there, but I know he isn’t. Clearly, he has his own set of trust issues, given his past experience. I can’t honestly blame him for that.
But I can blame him for threatening to kick me out for no reason.
A surge of anger wells up in my chest again, and I step away from the door. I have to get moving. If I don’t busy my hands, I might strangle something, and I’m the only one here to strangle.
I kneel by the woodstove. The fire I started and never returned to is now a pile of black chalk. I restack the logs and light another fire, rubbing my gloved hands before the infant flame to warm them.
I glance back and realize that my door is still unlocked. I rise and bolt it shut, effectively closing myself in for the rest of the day. The breakfast we made a few hours ago is making way for a new hunger. What am I going to do for food? I never explored the kitchen in here.
I walk over to my own little kitchen. It’s not as nice as Lorn’s. The countertops are linoleum, the appliances aged and white. I open a few cabinets and find them empty. When I reach a small pantry, I find a few cans of vegetables and some bags of pasta. The expiration date suggests I can at least feed myself for one day.
Tomorrow I’ll have to find the local market and stock up.
I’m busying my mind with menial things on purpose. When I have a series of tasks to complete, I don’t get scared. My fear sits in the corner of my mind now, and rational thought has returned, as it always does. It was a boot print in the snow. Probably from Lorn’s boot the other day.
I’m not going to let this get to me. I’m not going to let the fear win, although I know on some level it already has. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I? I have to believe I am stronger than the visions that have haunted my dreams for so long.
The living room is a few degrees warmer. I plop on the couch in front of the woodstove and wait to feel fully warm again. I wish I was stronger. Braver. I wish I hadn’t been in that office all those years ago, and neither had my dad, and we were here together, roasting marshmallows and laughing like we used to.
I remember him so well. He was everything to me. When he wasn’t working, he would take me to our own cabin outside the city, and he taught me how to start a fire. He didn’t know much else besides that, as far as survival skills go, but we had warmth, and that was all we needed.
“It’s important to spend time in nature, Rayne. It reminds us what it means to be human, to be vulnerable to the wild elements around us.” He said it every time we went up there, and I never understood the lesson.
He always had an interest in cars and the mechanics of things, too. I told Lorn that my interest came from running businesses, but that wasn’t a whole truth, either. My father was a tinkerer, and I learned a lot from the projects we worked on together. In the public eye, he was a polished, articulate lawyer. To me, he was the perfect dad, teaching me how to work a screw and enjoy the warmth of a fire in the woods.
A tear escapes from my eye, and I brush it away. As always, my happy memories are invaded by that horrible night. Larry threatening my dad, the sound of the gunshot, the thump of my father’s body as it hit the floor. I remember giving testimony against the man in court, how his eyes burned into me, but I stood my ground. I had to. My dad deserved justice.
He deserves to be alive now.
Before Larry left the courtroom with the verdict announced, he mouthed two words to me. You’re next.
No one saw him do it. At the time, I believed that he was lying, because he was headed into prison for the rest of his life.
Until he was a good boy. Now he’s out, and those two words hang over me like a noose.
I shift in my jacket and realize the living room is nice and warm again. I take it off, only to be met with the scent of Lorn and his cabin. I haven’t washed up since then, and I’m super gross now. I am way overdue for a hot, long shower.
I hope this place has a good water heater.
I strip down and turn on the faucet. Within a minute, piping hot water steams up the bathroom, and I take my sweet time washing Lorn, the past day, and everything else away. I clear my mind of all thoughts and simply feel as the water puckers my skin and soothes my tense muscles.
Now this is more like it.
When I step out of the shower, I’m surprised to see that the cabin is already a shade darker. It gets darker out earlier now, especially up here, but once again, time has managed to slip away. My month will be over in a blink if I’m not more mindful of how I spend my time—the whole reason I’m up here is to come up with a plan to throw Larry off my scent. And to determine if he’s on it in the first place.
I make a simple pasta dinner for myself, flavored with a little aged olive oil and some salt packets I found in the pantry. I pull out one of the many books I packed with the intention of calming my mind, and I crack it open before the fire.
I try to focus. I do. Images of Lorn above me, his hips thrusting between my thighs as his dick works its magic in my body, float across my mind’s eye. When I realize I’ve read the same sentence six times, I decide it’s time to turn in for the night.
I check the bolt on the door one more time before I head to the bedroom. It seems sturdy enough, but I’m not convinced that it is. Still, it’s all I’ve got for protection, so it will have to do. I packed my mace, but can’t seem to find it anywhere. It’s a nightmare.
I change into my nightgown. It’s a nice silky number, sea green with a strip of creamy lace at the base of my ass. It’s one of my most comfortable nighties, and as I slide into bed, I feel a little more like myself again.
Everything is going to be fine. I’m sure of it.
Chapter Twelve
Lorn
When I crawl into bed, I’m cursing all women, everywhere.
I’m such a goddamned idiot. What I need to do is stop thinking with my dick and use my brain more effectively. A pretty face, a kind gesture, none of it means anything in the end, does it?
They’re all the same.
Anger boils as I replay my fight with Rayne over and over in my head. The abject fear in her eyes as she stared at a footprint in the snow. No normal person gets freaked out about things like that.
Another surge of anger hits me as I think about everything I told her about myself, everything I confided in her. To open yourself up, only to have the other person keep you shut out…
Again, I take the reminder. Living alone is the only way to stay sane, to stay whole. Or at least to hold together whatever fractured pieces of me are left.
I change into a pair of pajama pants and a white T-shirt and crash into my bed. My favorite thing about sleep is that it makes it impossible to think, and that is my favorite.
I love not being able to think.
I close my eyes and allow my thoughts to drift to nothing in particular. I focus on the idea of a waterfall, but e
ven as that image comes into view, Rayne swims naked beneath it.
Her breasts bounce along the top of the water, and when she looks up at me, she’s sporting a beautiful smile. She beckons for me to join her, and my dick rises thinking about what we can do beneath those crashing waters.
I’m already sabotaging myself again. I think about football. I used to play in high school and college in a lame attempt to get my dad to treat me like I mattered. Like everything else I tried, it didn’t work. I didn’t even like playing football, even though I have the physique for it. I conjure images of jock straps and stinky locker rooms, and it’s enough to dispel the lure of Rayne from my fantasies.
Good. Stay the fuck out, Rayne.
I drift to sleep as I count old football stats. My dreams are out of my control, and they are turbulent. In my mind, I am crashing into a burning building, the flames spreading around me and burning my skin. A woman screams, and I look around frantically to find her, to help her.
“Help me, please!”
The scream is desperate, and to my dismay, it sounds like Rayne. Another pierces the night, and my eyes fly open. My room is warm and dark. Nothing is amiss. Then it sounds again, only from a greater distance.
Rayne is screaming. In the stark silence of the mountain night, loud and clear.
My blood pulses hot in my body as I launch out of my bed and shove my feet into a pair of boots. On my way out, I grab my coat, slide into it, and unlatch the door.
Another scream splits the night.
Oh my god, what’s happening to her?
I bolt down the steps and into the dark woods. With no lights on to begin with, my eyes are adjusted to the twilight, but my senses perk up as I hit the trail. I can’t afford to trip on rocks or roots and waste one more second. Rayne’s cabin is only a tiny distance away. I reach the clearing to her cabin, and I can hear her sobbing, and then another scream echoes into the night.
Rayne, what have you done?
I step up all four of her porch stairs with a single bound and pound on the front door. “Rayne! What’s going on? Rayne!”
