Second and Short

by Michel Prince

  Pulling the screen door open slowly with her left hand she stepped in and listened for movement. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest as she scanned the open living room, which had the rustic feel of a backwoods cabin even though the thing was far from it. Log walls with a stone-faced fireplace greeted her with a set of recliners flanking a couch. She’d heard Bucky was married, but this was a man’s cabin from the deer antler chandelier to the bar with aging whiskey in the corner. Around the corner was a kitchen and she heard the creak of cabinets. Her hands gripped and released the wood handle as she stepped stealth-fully around the wall and saw a second human wall in the kitchen. The guy had to be close to seven-foot tall and a descendent of Paul Bunyan. With a thick head of blond hair, all she saw from the back was broad shoulders and a massive body. He turned and a flash of ice blue from his eyes sent a chill down her spine. The rough beard he had going on completed the Paul Bunyan look.

  “I thought this was Lost Lake, not Crystal,” he said in a deep baritone voice.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” she asked with the axe at the ready.

  “I might ask you the same thing,” he replied and leaned his hip against the counter next to the unplugged fridge. With a brace on his right knee she had a bit of an advantage. She’d need it since he didn’t seem phased by the fact she was armed.

  “What did you mean by Crystal Lake?”

  He pointed to her axe. “You’re missing the hockey mask there, Jason.” He crossed his arms and the t-shirt he wore strained from his biceps. Willeen didn’t know if she should swing her axe or drop it and fall into his arms. At nearly six foot herself, finding a man she could look up at was hard. One who could handle her large frame, well that was a horse of a different color. “I’m Dalton, by the way, Bucky sent me up here.”

  “You’re a Grizzly?”

  “In more ways than one.” The deep timber of his voice vibrated through her as he waggled his eyebrows and stroked his thick beard. “Dalton Gresham, that thing getting heavy yet?”

  Willeen slowly put the axe down, head first, but kept her hand on the handle as if it were a cane.

  Dalton eyed her from top to bottom taking note of the axe. “Okay, well Bucky told me to look for a Willie. Any chance you know him? Fat guy, in need of a shower, probably wearing flannel.”

  “That how Bucky described him?”

  “Nah, anyone named Willie, lives in the woods, probably can rival me for a beard. This is Wisconsin, isn’t it?”

  Willeen scowled at him. “Well what should I expect from a dumb ass jock who plows head first into other dumb ass jerks.”

  “Your boyfriend? Husband?”

  “I’m Willie,” she said as the butterflies in her stomach started to tamp themselves down. “You weren’t supposed to be here until tonight.”

  “You’re Willie?”

  “Yep,” she said as she stroked her chin. “And I don’t even need to wax to keep this silky smooth.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve been pissy and I would have come later but there was no reason to sit in my house waiting to leave,” he said. “You a Willamena?”

  “Willeen, like Eileen but with a W so I can be tormented my whole life.”

  “Nice your parents had a plan for you.”

  “Where’s your vehicle?”

  “My truck got a flat right before I had to turn in. I called for a service. Guess I could have driven it down the road. I just wasn’t sure how far this was from the highway.”

  “You just left your truck?”

  “The guy said it would be about three hours before he could get to me.”

  “Did you not have a spare?” Willeen asked.

  “I think I do.”

  “Think?” Willeen shook her head. “Show me where it is I’ll get it changed.”

  Dalton laughed. “I’m not having a woman change my flat.”

  “How do you know a woman isn’t being sent out from your roadside assistance?”

  His face scrunched in thought. “I spoke to a guy.”

  “You spoke to a dispatcher. Do you ever think before assuming?” Willie stood facing him with her hands splayed and her belly jutted out. Dropping her voice low she decided to challenge the dumb ass jock. “How about I call Willie, big guy, gut flannel shirt.”

  Dalton dropped his head. “In my defense, Bucky calls this place a man’s retreat.”

  “And women can’t be in a man’s retreat?”

  “Not when we want to go around unkempt and scratch ourselves.”

  “Women can’t be around for that,” she said trying to not smile. “Because I’m gonna have to tell you. Quite a few guys do that around me.”

  “I’d say let’s start over, but I feel I’m too late for that. I thought they said they would send a guy out.”

  “He probably did. It’s a pretty common phrase, but for all you know they might page me soon if Randy doesn’t answer, which with it being after eleven in the morning he probably won’t.”

  “Why what happens at eleven?”

  “The bar opens at ten. How long ago did you call?”

  “About a half hour.”

  “Yep, I bet before I get you there I’ll be getting a text to go fix it. Dispatch usually tries for about an hour.”

  “So, what, you’re the only roadside person in the area?”

  “I’m on the short list for all the major companies even though I don’t have a shop like Randy. Now, do you want your tire changed or not?”

  Dalton could hear Rome now just give me your man card and walk away like a good little bitch. How had he ended up suspended from his team with a sore knee and dark skinned beauty changing his tire on the side of the road in butt fuck Wisconsin? Somehow the world and person he had been was gone. He didn’t know who to be and when to be it anymore. One moment he’s told to basically be a monster and the next he’s being instructed on how to be a teddy bear. It had been so long since he’d not been a character he forgot who he really was. Was he the man who grabbed a sexy thick thighed woman by the waist and pressed himself between her legs like he felt he needed to as he watched Willeen? Taking her all cave man style with grunts and a deep growl. Or was he a damn pussy holding a purse while his woman beat the shit out of the bad guy?

  “I can help,” he offered as he eyed the hips on the deeply tanned beauty crouching by his car. He wasn’t exactly sure of her ethnicity since her hair was thick but appeared soft as it fell from her ponytail. With obsidian eyes and skin that bordered on native or maybe black, he couldn’t decide. She was a mixture of features each more beautiful than the next.

  “I’m almost done,” she replied and the wurrrr of a drill she was using to tighten the lug nuts went off. What didn’t she have in the back of her old Ford? Bucky had told him if he needed anything while he was there to find Willie. Had he meant sexually too? Dalton wondered, but saw she was a no nonsense tomboy. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she stared at him and he tried to not get lost. “Now to your cabin. I just found out you were coming so it’ll take me about an hour to get it up to snuff. There’s a bar two miles that way. You might even see Randy there.”

  “What needs to be done at the cabin?”

  “Flush the lines and get the electrical back up and going. Then I need to make sure you have enough logs and such.” She started walking back to her truck with her large jack and he followed in lockstep. “I’ll have it all comfy cozy when you get back from the bar. Although I don’t supply food, so I hope you have some.”

  “I have a cooler with some things. Again, I’d be happy to help you seeing as you changed my tire.”

  “I’ll be billing your insurance.” She turned sharply on her heel toward him and snapped her fingers. “Speaking of which, I’ll need a signature.”

  Dalton watched as she dug in her glove box for a small clipboard, then began filling it out. “You’re charging me for the tire? I told you I could do it.”

  “If you could have done it, you would have,” she stated plainly
and passed him the clipboard. “And you pay for roadside assistance, it’s not like the money is coming directly from your pocket anyway. That’s what insurance is for.”

  “Can I at least buy you a drink?” he asked as he took out his roadside card and scratched the information on the paper.

  “Um.” She tilted her head to the side. “I’m not really a Dry Dock type of gal.”

  “Dry Dock?” he questioned.

  “The bar I was sending you to.”

  “I meant from my cooler, but why would you send me somewhere you don’t go?”

  “People know me and are used to me by now in town, but I keep to myself mostly. Cabins are quiet and easy to maintain.”

  He wasn’t sure if it was a racial thing or something else keeping her from the Dry Dock. Either way, he knew better than to push. Opening his cooler with his food and drink supplies for a few days, he pulled out a wheat IPA.

  “I’m not from the city,” she replied with a crinkled nose. “I’m a bit simpler than that. Thanks anyway. I’ll try to get the cabin all set so you can relax.”

  “Either way, I’m not in the mood to be drinking at a bar alone at noon.”

  Willeen shrugged her shoulders and hopped in her truck. “Suit yourself.”

  He climbed in his truck feeling a slight tweak in his knee, but nothing that would require anything more than another day of light duty. Arriving at the cabin, she got out of her truck and started to dig through the tool box in the back. He noticed her shirt rode up just enough to see a flash of skin. Smooth and dark, he wondered if it would be soft like satin. When she turned, he pretended to be looking at one of the pines in the front yard.

  “I promise I’ll be out of your hair pretty quick,” she assured as she lugged a bright red toolbox without even flinching. He stepped toward her to take the box, but her face screwed in a way as if the notion offended her. “I’m good. If you haven’t noticed I’m far from a delicate flower.”

  “Oh, I noticed,” Dalton said trying to hold back the growl he felt coming up his throat. “I’ve never been a fan of them anyway. Hulk smash.” He lurched forward like the superhero and a smile crept across Willeen’s lips.

  “Is that so.” She walked around the back of the cabin and pulled out a drill. “If I didn’t know better we could be a matched set of mutant freaks.”

  “You’re not a mutant.” Sure, the woman had to be close to six-foot tall, but she was perfectly proportioned with just the right amount of hips and ass. Her face was free from makeup with a smooth brilliance and high cheekbones, her beauty was unmistakable. Dalton couldn’t help but wonder if her long black hair restrained by a ponytail could possibly be as soft as it looked.

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.” She used the drill to loosen a screw and adjust a pipe. Then she walked to an orange pump that came up from the ground. She lifted the handle and dark water soon ran clear and came out with tremendous pressure before she slammed it back closed to stop the spray. “This is always on. It’s a back up. Since we’re getting close to winter, I’m going to ask that you make sure it’s fully locked closed or the water might freeze in the pipes and if Bucky comes up here in the winter, he’ll have no water.”

  “Got it.”

  She then went into the cabin through a back door. He followed her as she lit the pilot light for the water heater and flushed all the pipes by letting the water run. With the electricity turned on she closed the fridge doors and headed back outside.

  “I’d suggest you wait about thirty minutes before taking your stuff out of the cooler,” Willeen instructed when she found Dalton was once again following her. This is why she liked getting plenty of notice when it came to opening up the cabins. It was awkward to not talk to someone who was in your presence, but what did she have in common with a professional football player? “Don’t you need to unpack?”

  Heading to the log pile Stan must have dropped off when he clear cut a few trees that had been damaged in the spring storms, she found a good supply. Still in need of splitting, but more than enough for the week.

  “I…um…I’m not in a rush.” Dalton sat on the steps of the porch and looked out toward the lake. He took off his black knee brace and extended his leg fully.

  “So whatdja do?” she asked as she placed the first log on top of the wide stump she used when chopping wood at Bucky’s. Pulling on her work gloves she set to the task at hand. With a full swing of her axe a loud thwack echoed among the still standing trees.

  “I don’t need you to do that,” Dalton said as he stood, then wobbled a bit.

  “I know it’s practically balmy right now here, but the temperature is gonna dip in the evening. Leaving a good fire going will save you from waking up as an ice cube.”

  “I’m from Colorado and now I live in Chicago. I’m pretty sure I can handle mid October in Wisconsin.”

  With a full swing, Willeen cut through another log. “I’m sure you can. You from the mountains or the city?”

  “Mountains. Estes Park to be exact. I spent quite a bit of time in the national forest hiking trails as a kid.”

  “Fresh air obviously did you good,” she replied trying not to stare too much at his frame. “What I mean is it didn’t stunt your growth any.”

  Dalton ran his hand over the top of his head and looked down at the ground currently littered with orange, red and yellow leaves. “I have a few inches on most men.”

  “Nothin’ wrong with that.” She placed another log and continued with her duties trying not to think about where those inches may apply. “Lord knows I spent enough time outside to turn me into a giant too.”

  “Not sure about that,” Dalton replied as a dimple appeared on his cheek. “You seem a bit short to me.”

  “Your knee?” she pointed to the bruised appendage. “They say purple is a fall color, but doesn’t that clash with the tan and blue of your uniform?”

  “Love tap, nothing more.”

  “That’s why Bucky gave you a brace. Are you going to need me over here for more than opening up the cabin?” she asked, then suddenly realized she had said a bit much. “I mean to help with carrying and things.”

  “The whole wait on me hand and foot thing is nice, but nah, I should be good. And really, I don’t think I’ll need too many logs. I naturally run a bit warm. Joe, our strength guy, says that’s the way it is with guys that lift all the time.”

  “Never thought of that,” she said as she split another log. “Guess that’s why I do to. I don’t train every day, but I’m constantly lifting and moving heavy things.”

  “Or swinging a what…” Dalton eyed her axe. “That at least fifteen pounds?”

  “Give or take.” A small smile crossed her lips as he got up and stepped toward her, taking the implement. She picked up another log and placed it on the stump. “Fine, you chop and I’ll stack.”

  “You from around here?” he asked as he swung the axe with one hand and split the log. Willeen watched as his sinewy muscles tightened and flexed around his shoulder and bicep. His chest strained against the t-shirt he wore which rose just enough to see his belly. There was no definition even with all the strength the man had to possess in his core. “Log?”

  Willeen stopped ogling and set another piece of wood on the stump. “Sorry, I’ve lived all over really. My dad’s tribe is from here and Stan the guy who runs the cabins always kept a place for him here. It’s kinda been my come home place.”

  No reason to go into details with a stranger. Willeen knew he couldn’t be a threat or someone sent by her ex by any stretch of the imagination, but still no reason for him to know she lived pretty much off the grid. Everything was in Stan’s name, even her side businesses all were paid to him and then he made sure she never wanted for anything. It was the safest way now and thankfully Hector Molina never cared to learn about her past, especially her native side.

  “Tribe? The Ho-Chunk casinos and stuff I saw. That’s you?”

  “That’s my dad and no I’m not a casin
o millionaire.” She began moving the chopped logs up to the porch and stacking them between Dalton’s chops.

  “Aren’t you supposed to get a cut?”

  “Probably some amount, I’m only half Ho-Chunk.”

  “What’s the other half?” Dalton asked and Willeen put her hand on her hip. As if this man couldn’t tell she was darker than the average native. “I guess it’s supposed to be obvious huh?”

  “Black.”

  “I can see that,” he said as he continued chopping. After five more logs Dalton switched to using two hands and sweat was creating a V from his neck down. “We done?” he asked after a decent pile accumulated.

  “How long are you staying?”

  “At most two weeks.”

  Willeen’s heart took off in her chest. It was stupid, the man was a professional football player not someone who could hide away with her. Either way she knew better than to follow her hormones. No, her family line would die with her. The bad choices her father made she repeated, only worse and there would be no knight in shining armor to rescue her as her mother had her father.

  “It’s a good start, but since you aren’t sure if you’ll be here for two weeks then I can always come back.” She reached for her axe, but he brought it up and rested the handle on his shoulder. Paul Bunyan was back as his broad chest blocked out the sun low in the sky. She pulled out her phone to see what time it was. Somehow the two of them had burned half the day away in virtual silence.

  “Things take longer up here huh?” he asked as he spied her phone.

  “Seems that way,” she confessed. “I have a rhythm when I deal with the cabins. You kinda threw me off.”

  “The tire?”

  “Among other things. I tend to work solo.”

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do here by myself.” Dalton let out a laugh. “Team dynamics and all. I’ve had a rotation of brothers since I was little. Even before I started playing.”

  “How bad is your knee?” she questioned knowing two weeks off in October didn’t seem realistic.