by ID Johnson
“Thank you, Ms. Kensington,” he said as the hat went back on his head. “Well, I think you may have a scratch or two on the roof of your car but nothing too bad.”
She hadn’t even thought to look at the roof of her car, she’d been in such a hurry to get him taken care of. “It could’ve been a lot worse,” she replied, not quite meeting his eyes. For some reason, she had a feeling if she looked too closely, she might fall in.
“If you need anything, give us a holler,” he said, reaching for the doorknob. “Snow’s let up for now, but it’s supposed to get bad again. I don’t think that car of yours is gonna make it into town if you need anything, but my truck will.”
“Oh, okay.” He had the door open now and was stepping out onto the porch. “I think I’m all set, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
“We’re planning on doing a little fishing this afternoon, if you’d like to come,” he offered, backing down the steps.
So that’s why they had wanted that particular cabin. “Thanks for the offer, but I have a lot of work to do.” The idea of fishing on the stream without her dad seemed strange to her, though spending more time with Memphis did sound appealing.
“Oh? What kind of work do you do?” he asked, gazing at her curiously.
Olivia fumbled with the medicine she held in her hand, thinking about whether or not she should tell the truth. She’d already told him one lie, and even though that wasn’t something she generally made a habit of, telling him that she was a writer might spark a whole new conversation. She didn’t want to see Memphis gush all over her because of what she did for a living. “Uh, it’s kind of boring,” she stammered. “Mostly just… computer stuff.”
An eyebrow arched over a chocolate eye. “Oh, okay,” he said. “Well, if you get bored, come on over. We’d be happy to have you. Gramps fries up brook trout like nobody’s business.”
“Good luck catching a brook out there,” Olivia replied before she even knew what she was saying.
“How’s that?” he asked a smile forming on his face again. “You’ve fished here before?”
Once again, she wasn’t sure how to answer. “A time or two,” she replied. “Mostly brown trout. Some rainbow. You might even catch a bass if you’re lucky.”
“Tell you what. If one of us catches a brook, you have to come eat it with us.”
Olivia raised her eyebrows. She knew it wasn’t likely, but would she have time to do that and still hit her word count? Memphis was staring at her expectantly, and since she knew it probably wasn’t going to happen, she shrugged and said, “Deal. But it has to be a brook—not a rainbow or a brown or anything else.”
“Yes, miss,” he said, tipping his hat to her. “I guess I’ll let you get back to your breakfast now, though I’m supposing it’s probably pretty cold.”
Her forehead crinkled; she had no idea what he was talking about. Then, as he began to walk away, she realized she’d told him “they” were eating breakfast. “Oh, right,” she said. “it’s okay. It’s… cereal.”
“Soggy then?”
She nodded. It definitely would be. If it wasn’t still in the box. In the cupboard. At home. “Thanks again for your help, Memphis.”
“Thanks for bandaging me up, Ms. Kensington.”
“It’s Olivia,” she called. Waving goodbye, she finally pushed the door shut, realizing she could probably stand there and talk to him all day. Tempting as it was, she fought the urge to go to the window and spy on him making his way back to the other cabin, though she had noticed how nicely his jeans fit. “Oh, Lord, help me,” she mumbled, only half joking as she made her way back into the bathroom to throw away the gauze and put the first aid supplies away.
As soon as she stepped in the room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and froze. Not only was her hair standing up every which way, she had smears of mascara below one eye and a rim of lipstick. Clearly, she had forgotten to take her makeup off the night before. She looked like a nightmare. “Holy Toledo!” she screeched, dropping everything in her hands and covering her mouth. “I look like Night of the Living Dead!” She banged her head against the door where it hit the wall behind her. “And he was so nice and even invited me over! He must be feeling sorry for me. He probably thinks I’m a squatter.” She couldn’t believe her luck. Finally, she’d met a nice guy who was very easy on the eyes, and she looked like she’d just stepped out of a zombie apocalypse film.
She stooped to clean up the mess she’d made, muttering, “I knew I shouldn’t have opened that door.” Even if her car had ended up with an entire tree inside of it, would it have really been that bad compared to this? Once the floor was clean, she decided to run upstairs and take a shower, just in case Memphis came back—or just in case she decided to go for a walk down by the stream where he might happen to see her and realize she wasn’t a cast member of The Walking Dead. It might take away from her writing time, but she really couldn’t let him think that’s what she usually looked like, could she?
Chapter Six
Memphis made his way back through the snow headed toward the cabin, thinking Gramps had probably already made them all breakfast, and he might even miss it. He hadn’t intended to be gone for so long, but once he started talking to Olivia, it was hard to just pull himself away.
She was strange—there was no two ways about it. He could tell as soon as she flew out the door that he’d woken her up. Her hair was standing on end, and she looked like she hadn’t even had a chance to wash her face. But beneath all that, he saw a beautiful girl with intriguing blue eyes. The way she’d insisted on taking care of the tiny scratch on his cheek before she even checked on her car meant a lot to him, especially since the car had to have been pretty important to her. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come running out of the cabin so quickly when he mentioned the tree branch, would she?
If that branch hadn’t been dangling there, he likely wouldn’t have even knocked more than once. He’d been tempted to leave as soon as she didn’t answer, thinking she might have been sleeping or have gone for a walk. But he couldn’t just leave it that way. He was thankful persistence was one of his strongest values, particularly when he learned Brutus didn’t really exist.
But why in the world was a beautiful young woman out in the woods all by herself with New Year’s Eve right around the corner? It really didn’t make any sense at all. Hopefully, he’d be able to snag a brook trout today, and she’d have to keep her promise and come over. Maybe then he’d discover a little bit more about the mystery that was Olivia Kensington.
The smell of bacon filled his lungs the moment he opened the door. A few minutes ago he would’ve said it was the most divine scent he’d ever inhaled, but the fresh smell of lavender and rose he’d picked up on from Olivia was still ingrained on his brain. Still, his mouth was watering by the time he made his way into the kitchen where the rest of his family was gathered around a circular table in the breakfast nook.
“There you are!” Gramps said, giving a hardy chuckle. “We thought you mighta got lost in the snow.”
He’d already had a cup of coffee with his grandfather that morning before he went out, but it always brought a smile to his face when he had the chance to spend time with the older man. “Sorry. I was just helping out a neighbor,” Memphis explained as he fixed himself a plate full of scrambled eggs, biscuits, and that mouth-watering bacon.
“Helping a neighbor? I didn’t know we had any,” Nash said as Memphis took a seat beside him and dug in.
After swallowing his eggs, he replied, “Oh, yeah. That cabin back behind us. Tree limb fell on their car. I just helped get it off.” He was being vague, and he knew it. He wasn’t expecting a lot of questions since his family members usually weren’t the kind to be nosy, but now that Nash was inquiring, Memphis realized he didn’t want to tell him too much about Olivia. After all, she was just a woman he’d bumped into. It wasn’t like it was anything more than that.
“That’s a shame,” his father said, taking a
swig of orange juice. Setting his glass down, he asked, “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Just a couple of little scratches.”
“Looks like you got a little scratch, too,” Gramps pointed out, gesturing at Memphis’s cheek.
“Nah, not a big deal.” He thought he might need to go look in the mirror. Perhaps this cut was bigger than he thought, the way everyone was going on about it.
“Why is it shiny?” Nash asked, leaning in for a closer look.
Memphis sighed. “I’m gonna get some coffee. Anyone need anything while I’m up?”
“I’ll get it. You eat,” his dad insisted. He was out of his seat before Memphis could protest.
“It looks like it’s got some sort of sealant on it,” Nash continued.
“It’s that liquid bandage stuff,” Memphis explained. “She insisted on cleaning the cut and putting that on there to say thank you. Not a big deal.”
“She?” Nash repeated, clearly not letting anything get past him.
Memphis had stuffed his mouth full in an attempt to avoid any questions that might follow the statement. His audience waited for an answer as he chewed, and his father plunked his coffee cup down in front of him. Once the food was down, he took a slow sip of his drink. “Just the neighbor lady,” Memphis shrugged. “I don’t know her name.” He hated lying, but then, his family was bound to make a big deal out of this if he didn’t make it seem as nonchalant as possible—as nonchalant as it was.
“You didn’t ask her name?” Gramps repeated. “That’s weird.”
“No, really. It was nothing. I just held up the branch while she backed her car out.”
They were nodding. “What did she look like?” Nash asked, raising his eyebrows and grinning.
Despite the fact that he was married and had a child on the way, Memphis was aware that Nash would appreciate a pretty woman. He made a face. “She wasn’t really very attractive. At all. Kind of crazy hair. Make-up… everywhere. She… smelled.” As soon as the fib was out of his mouth, he realized that, if Olivia should actually come over, he’d either have to pretend to have lost his sight or his mind. Otherwise, they’d all know he was lying to them.
His dad nodded. “Well, it was nice of you to help her out. She out here all alone?”
“Not sure,” Memphis replied, secretly hating himself for telling another lie. “I think so. Didn’t really ask.”
His father gave him a peculiar look but didn’t ask anything more. Eventually, he rose from the table. “Now that the snow’s let up, I think we can get out on the water. I’m going to go get the gear ready.”
“I’ll put on my waders and come help,” Nash said. “Too bad she wasn’t pretty.” He patted his brother on the arm.
Memphis didn’t take the bait. There was no reason to get into the “what-ifs” of what could potentially happen if Olivia was pretty. He lived in Texas, and she likely lived in West Virginia. Even though he had been considering what his brother said about moving here to work for his father, there’d been no mention of that from his dad yet. Besides, Olivia might’ve been nice enough when she was cleaning his scratch, but she had still acted strange the night before and when she’d refused to open the door this morning. For all he knew, she might be an escapee from an insane asylum who stole someone’s Cadillac before disappearing into the mountains. There was absolutely no reason whatsoever to give Olivia Kensington another thought.
He finished his breakfast and put his plate in the sink, listening to Gramps talk about how he was going to fry up whatever they caught that afternoon for dinner, absently praying someone in his family would catch a brook trout.
***
Olivia had taken a shower and cleaned herself up as if she were going out to a book signing or for lunch with a friend. She had on a sapphire blue sweater that set off her eyes and her warmest pair of slacks with a necklace and the hoop earrings her mother had given her for Christmas. She styled her hair and put on her makeup. The entire time, she spoke aloud, reminding herself that there was no reason for her to go out to the stream and try to “bump into” Memphis. She had plenty of work to do, and if it was God’s will for her to see him again, he’d be back.
She didn’t dwell on the fact that he might never want to come back to the place where he’d witnessed a walking nightmare.
After she was certain she looked acceptable should anyone else come calling, she made her way down the ladder into the kitchen and fixed herself some instant oatmeal and coffee before walking out to check on her car. He was right; there were a few scratches, but none of them were more than an inch or two long. Running her fingers across them, they didn’t feel too deep, so she was confident that the body shop could buff them out. She lovingly patted her car on the roof and turned to make her way back to the house.
A trail of smoke from the other cabin caught her eye, and she paused to look that direction. She remembered spending so much time with her family around that fireplace, the one Memphis’s family was enjoying now. Crossing her arms, she envisioned herself and her brother and sister running around the back yard. There was a little trail that led right down to the stream on the right side of the house. They’d always raced each other down there. That was the widest part of the stream. As it ran back into the woods, it narrowed quite a bit, and there was even a place or two where they’d try to jump it, usually getting their boots wet in the process.
As she stood there letting the memories of the past fill her mind, she remembered there was a little church out there in the woods, too. It was in pretty sad shape, but her father would take them there sometimes to pray or read the Bible, especially if they happened to be staying over on a Sunday, which he usually tried to avoid because her dad hated to miss church. The chapel had been a serene, peaceful place, and she’d always felt a little closer to God when she was out there. She didn’t know if she’d even remember how to get there or if it was still standing, but she thought she might go try to find it before her trip was over, if she made some good progress on her novel.
“Well, Memphis, I sure hope your family makes as many memories as mine did,” she said quietly before turning and heading back inside. It was nice to think of another family spending their time in the same place that had made her happy for so many years, even if she’d longed to be there herself.
Olivia poured herself another cup of coffee and headed for the sofa and her laptop. She’d have to go back and reread everything she wrote the day before and make some corrections before she could continue with the story. That’s the way she preferred to work. Write, edit, write, etc. until the story was finished. She knew some authors who wrote several drafts, but using this process, she really only ever wrote the entire story one time. She’d go back over it a few times before she sent it to her editor, but when she did, most of it would stay the same.
This method meant it would be at least an hour, maybe two, before she could actually add to her word count. She hoped to get at least two or three thousand words written that day, which she should be able to do easily if she could stay focused. Unfortunately, as she began to read about Margot’s confession to Elliott that she was falling in love with him, Olivia’s mind began to wander, and once again it wasn’t Elliott’s face she saw in her mind’s eye, it was a certain cowboy who smelled like leather and spice—just the way a cowboy should.
It honestly wasn’t like Olivia to be attracted to a cowboy. If she told her sister, or her good friends, that she was distracted by the cowboy next door, they would be shocked. She knew there were plenty of women who loved any well-built man in a tight pair of Wranglers and boots, but that wasn’t Olivia’s thing, most of the time. She honestly thought it was Memphis himself that had her feeling things she hadn’t in ages. He seemed so nice and polite. The way he called her “miss” or “ma’am.” He’d even called her Ms. Kensington. Going out of his way to help her with the tree branch was beyond anything she would’ve expected from a stranger, but he hadn’t hesitated. Of course, it didn’t hurt that
he was so good looking, with those brown eyes and hair the color of toffee.
For all she knew, he lived in another state—or was married. She had noticed his ring finger was bare, however. Nevertheless, there really was no sense spending her time thinking about a man who she’d likely never see again. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like a fool for even putting on makeup in the first place. With a sigh, she pushed thoughts of Memphis aside and turned back to her novel, vowing not to think about cowboys anymore that day!
***
Memphis had caught eight trout in less than three hours, a feat his family thought extraordinary considering how out of practice he was and how miserable the rest of their luck had been, but he was determined to do whatever he could to catch a brook trout, despite the odds being against him. He’d questioned his Gramps to no end about the best methods, lures, and bait to use to lure in a brook, and Gramps had given him every pointer in his repertoire. Even when the total fish count was past a dozen, there was still no brook.
“My fingers are freezing,” Lyle said taking a few steps back onto the shore. “Gramps, you getting tired yet?”
Gramps had been sitting in a chair nearby for most of the adventure, having tired out from the strong current less than an hour in. “I’m just fine,” the older man said, chuckling. “If you’re tired, though, you could take these in and start cleaning them.”
“What are we going to do with that many trout?” Nash asked. “We could freeze them, I guess.”
