Chapter 2
Levi
I wiped the sweat from my brow before it could sting my eyes. Despite the late September day this high up in the Rockies, I already had to shed my flannel and strip down to a white undershirt. That first smell of fall came with a strong wind, cooling the sweat that covered my body. The sun began its descent behind the tall pines and aspens. That feeling of shifting seasons was all around, and the farmer’s almanac predicted a hard winter. Another long, lonely winter.
I grabbed the next piece of wood and set it up to split before I was taken over by a wave of grief, pointedly not looking at the guesthouse.
One of the many perks of living this far up the mountain was that I only had to worry about provisions for myself. An ache clenched my chest like a muscle being pulled, thinking of the last winter I had someone to care for. I swung the axe in a hard arch over my head, letting the physical work of my body push the thoughts away.
The nearest town was Cozy Creek, which was still a good twenty minutes away by winding road. That meant I could chop wood naked if I wanted to. Not that I would risk the family name in that way, but I could. Those left who worried about me never experienced the true freedom that came with solitude.
No nosy neighbors in your business. Nobody guilting you into doing things you didn’t want to.
The sound of a truck on the gravel driveway came between the whacks of my axe splitting wood.
So much for solitude.
I didn’t stop as I heard the slam of the door and heavy booted footfalls heading my way.
“I come with a six-pack and news from town,” Pace said by way of greeting.
“I would like fifty percent of that offer,” I said and steadied the next log on the stump. Some of the tension melted from my shoulders.
The only person who regularly visited from Cozy Creek, Pace held a hand to the brim of his baseball cap to block the slanting rays of the setting sun.
“Where’s Ripley?” Pace glanced around as he set down the paper bag and perched on the steps of the porch that led to my cabin .
“She doesn’t like the cold. She’ll be napping in her spot by the stove.”
“Such a ferocious beast.”
I glanced over when I heard the pop and sizzle of a can opening, not the crack of a cap off a beer bottle.
He took a swig from a tall, thin white can labeled sparkling flavored water. Peppy Pineapple. The handle of my axe propped me up as I caught my breath, squinting at him.
“What?” he asked.
“Not what I had in mind when you said six-pack. Now I want zero percent of what you’re offering.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it. Also, I’m cutting back on the drinking,” he explained.
“Fair enough.” I shrugged and reached out to grab the proffered can. I popped the tab and took a deep drink. “Goddamn, that’s refreshing,” I said.
“I’m saying. Betsy started selling them at the general store. You should swing by and get one.”
I nodded, mildly impressed. Seemed like there were a lot of upgrades happening in Cozy Creek. None of them I was interested in. I drank my drink and kept my thoughts to myself.
Pace held up his hands and made a rectangle with his thumbs and pointer fingers, boxing me in his imaginary frame.
“You could be an advertisement,” he said, lowering his arms. “You know, if you recorded yourself chopping this wood and uploaded it, you could probably make thousands of dollars in a side hustle. Or at least sell a ton of this bougie water to the tourists. ”
“What makes you think I don’t already?” I said before swinging through the next chop, pieces flying. My break was over.
“You’re right. You just scream social media influencer. The reclusive cabin in the woods really sells that. Do you even have a social media account?”
I blinked at him.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Social media is the downfall of humanity,” I said through huffs of breath. “We pay fake tribute to pretend lives that nobody has and then bully ourselves for not living up to those expectations.”
Pace sighed and tugged off his cap to scrub at his dark, reddish-blond waves. “You’re awfully sure for somebody who isn’t online. Don’t forget the cat videos and hours of disassociation. There is some fun to be had.”
I split the next log.
“Speaking of. How goes the Real-E-Space advert?” he asked.
“Stop trying to distract me. What is the news from town?” I asked.
“Ruth said that old Billy Mackenzie was finally retiring and looking to sell his space to a local before any ‘outsiders’ could snatch it up.”
“I can’t afford one of those Main Street storefronts.” Cozy Creek had managed to stay a hidden treasure for now, but the cost of the tourist trap shops still drove rent up on Main Street every year.
“He’s willing to take a hit before selling it to anybody who might make it a chain. Also, you could afford much more if you rented out the guesthouse,” he said.
“Who says I even want a shop?” I rolled my shoulders. “Regular hours. Interacting with the tourists. Sounds like a nightmare.” Locals talking to me about things I didn’t want to talk about …
“I see we are still avoiding my question about the listing. And the shop would be worth it. You know your stuff would sell like hotcakes.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Hotcakes, huh?”
He shrugged sheepishly.
After swinging the axe to lodge it in the stump and stacking the last pieces in the pile, I sat next to Pace. We tinked our cans. “Thanks, man. I just don’t want the constraints that come with a brick-and-mortar storefront. Betsy sells plenty of my stuff at her shop.”
“Just think about it. A video of you working on your art and you could go viral,” he said with a sigh.
“I’m starting to feel objectified.”
“I’m just saying, if I had a fraction of your talent and looks, I would be a millionaire,” he said.
“Definitely objectified.” I took another sip, then had to burp the intense carbonation. “Excuse me. And don’t be so modest, Mr. Fireman. You’re not exactly an eyesore as you’re busy saving kittens and dousing fires for all the Cozy Creek ladies.”
He sat up straighter and drank his soda water before belching loudly to beat mine. “I am hot, aren’t I?”
I chuckled with a shake of my head. While I had a couple of inches on Pace, there was no doubt he had me beat in the muscle department. Being a firefighter came with the additional superpower of automatically being perceived as attractive. I carefully curated my loner, woodsman reputation and wasn’t planning on changing that anytime soon.
“I’ve inflated your Thanksgiving float-sized ego even more,” I said.
“There’s always room for growth.” He set down his empty can and dusted his hands. “Now that we’ve sufficiently stroked each other’s egos, are you going to tell me if you’ve advertised the guesthouse for rent yet?”
I made an annoyed exhalation.
“Levi, my man. You said you were going to do it last month. You’re bleeding money. Cozy Creek Inn and the Lodge are always booked now, even in the off-season.”
“I don’t care?—”
“I know. Money doesn’t matter to you and your artistic soul. Unfortunately, even you are constrained by the realities of our capitalist society.”
“But—” I smacked my mouth, blinking slowly at his sarcasm, annoyed at being mocked. “I did post it. Last month, like I said I would,” I finished.
He widened his eyes and looked over the twenty yards to the one-bedroom guest home, as though expecting it to be occupied. “Good man. Any bites?”
“Not yet,” I said. I didn’t follow his gaze to the house.
“What?” He pulled out his phone from his coat pocket and unlocked it in one smooth motion. “That’s crazy. Every other rental around here is booked out as far as they open their calendars.” He typed on his screen. “Where are you? I don’t see your listing.”
I sighed. I reached back and grabbed my phone from the rocking chair. “Here.”
After pulling up the site, I handed it to him. As he read, his hopeful, good-natured smile melted off his face.
When he handed me back my phone, he took off his hat again to mess with his hair. “You don’t want to rent this place, do you?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?” I squinted at the ground, feeling defensive.
“I get your whole vibe is grumpy mountain man, and I’m not trying to strip you of that finely tuned aesthetic, but maybe, and just hear me out, this ad is slightly off-putting.”
“The price is more than reasonable,” I defended.
“Sure,” he dragged out the word. “But it’s the mildly threatening undertone that has me concerned.” He looked back at the phone resting on the step between us. “Wait, no. Not mildly. There’s an actual threat in there.” He ran a hand over his chin.
“I can’t have some thin-skinned city dweller coming up here thinking this is going to be a cute pic-to-gram moment or whatever. Hashtag mountains.” I crossed my arms as heat burned up my neck.
His head dropped to his hands. “Oh my God,” he mumbled in his palms.
You are a grumpy ass .
Unthinkingly, I glanced at the guesthouse shrouded in cold darkness as a shiver of guilt ran through me. I pushed her voice away and instead dug some dirt from under my nail.
Composing himself, Pace asked, “How many inquiries have you had?”
I grumbled.
“I’m going to take that as none.”
“Not my fault people can’t handle Colorado conditions.”
“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m gonna make a few changes. Things like instead of the hostile tone, say something like ‘cozy one-bedroom home located in the dense and wild Rockies and precautions should be taken to avoid danger.’”
I grumbled, not even bothering to hide my annoyance anymore. Why should I have to sugarcoat it?
But on and on Pace went until he’d completely rewritten the listing. All that remained the same was the asking price.
“Okay. There. I’m going to submit this,” he said, tilting the phone so I could review it one last time.
I tugged at my bottom lip, leg bouncing. A growing sense of urgency I couldn’t explain made me want to get up and chop more wood.
“Ready?” he asked. Pace’s thumb hovered over the “accept changes” button.
“Wait.” I shot up off the step and paced in front of him.
He carefully set the phone down, like he was in a bomb squad.
There was an inexplicable tightness in my chest. It must have been that stupid fizzy water. I probably just needed another good belch.
“What’s wrong?” Pace’s gaze flicked to where I rubbed my sternum.
“I see that these changes will help,” I said.
“Good,” he said skeptically.
“My concern is that they will help.”
“And that’s bad? You don’t want to rent the house.” It wasn’t a question. He looked at the ground, the brim of his hat hiding his features. “If you aren’t ready, that’s okay. I’m sorry if I was pressuring you.”
Ah, shit. Now I felt bad. He had that wounded puppy look that Ripley gave me when I told her she had to wear her booties to go outside.
I cleared my throat. “It’s not that. It’s more …” I squinted back at the house that was now totally in the dark as the last of the sun was below the tree line. Goose bumps broke out down my arms, and I pulled my flannel back on. “It’s more that I only want to rent it to the exact type of person who will fit within these terms.”
Pace sat back and nodded, chewing his lip for a minute before he spoke. “I see. Now—and try not to take this the wrong way—but what sort of sociopath is going to check all these boxes?”
I opened my mouth to respond but was interrupted by the ping of my phone. I almost didn’t recognize the sound; it was so rarely heard. It was my email inbox.
Pace’s light brown eyebrows shot up. “Is that?—?”
“Well, well, well,” I said, unable to hide my smugness. “It seems there’s at least one other person like me.”
“God help us,” he mumbled.
I opened the email so that we both could see.
Inside the email was one simple line.
“I’ll take it.”
I waited for the feeling of relief to come. Instead, it was a tumult of disbelief, but I had protested too much already.
Pace shook his head. “I was wrong.”
“Another way of saying that is, ‘You were right, Levi,’” I said, trying to keep my tone light.
Pace opened his mouth, but another uncommon ping trilled through the air. “Wait, there’s a follow-up,” he said.
I frowned. Same emailer. [email protected].
Another single line.
“See notes below.”
I opened the email and quickly scanned it. My scowl grew more fierce with every word.
“This is too great.” Pace had trouble speaking through his laughter. “I wish I could take a picture of your face right now. Oh, wait. I can.”
I still stared at the screen. Staring, seething. They have notes, do they? How dare they? Take it or leave it. I couldn’t care less.
They responded to the demands.
They implied partial ownership of Ripley. Absolutely not.
To the left came the sound of a camera shutter clicking as he asked, “Did you just growl?”
I glared at Pace .
He grinned down at his phone. “This might be this year’s Christmas card.”
“I’m not sure I want to rent to them now.” I locked my phone.
“Why not? They agreed to all the rules. I don’t think you can find anybody better than this.”
“C.L. Wells. Sounds fake,” I said. “Probably not even a real person, just some robot. Isn’t that a thing on the internet?—”
“A C.L. Wells lives in Colorado Springs,” Pace interrupted, reading from his phone. My eyes narrowed distrustfully at how quickly he found that information. “A journalist. That vibes with their comments. Seems legit. No picture, though,” he finished.
I bit my tongue to prevent any more skepticism from escaping.
“Don’t make that grumbly sound. Ask, and ye shall receive. This is perfect. Better let them know. They seem in a hurry,” he said.
Pace looked at me hopefully. It was the same look he’d been giving me for months, confident this was the moment things would start to turn around. I couldn’t crush that hope. The only thing worse than interacting with people was disappointing my best friend after how he’s stuck by my side when I’d been a total shit. I could at least try for his sake. When it failed, I would go back to the way things were.
Peace and quiet.
I responded to the email. “ It will be available tomorrow.”
“Good job. I’m proud of you,” Pace said gently, causing my throat to tighten. Was this how low the bar was for me now? “This will be good. You’ll see.” He looked so damn hopeful I couldn’t help but sigh a nod. “Plus, they seem …” Pace hesitated.
“Intense? Nosy? All around too much?” I asked dryly.
“They seem perfect for you,” he settled on. He shook my shoulder, an all too entertained look on his face.
My phone pinged with their immediate response.
An all-caps explosion of punctuation and yelling greeted me.
“OMG!! Thank you so much!!! You are a lifesaver!!”
I winced.
“This is gonna be great.” Pace didn’t bother hiding his glee as he read over my shoulder.
I stared at the screen and wondered if I’d just made a horrible mistake.
It didn’t matter. They were paying up front. I wouldn’t even interact with them. Nothing had to change.
I glanced at the guesthouse one last time.
About damn time.