6. Cassidy
Chapter 6
Cassidy
I quietly hummed as I cooked the only thing I knew how to. An omelette. I swayed in the kitchen, surprised that Eric was a heavy sleeper. I imagined he might’ve been the type to wake up at the pinprick of any noise.
I’d been awake since the fireplace ceased crackling and the charcoal barely remained to glow. I’d at least managed a few hours’ sleep and had been trying to form some kind of game plan ever since. When I’d only come up with a few painful ideas, I decided to make myself useful by way of a kind of gesture for Eric’s hospitality. He had said I could use or eat anything, after all.
I studied the omelette as I hoped said game plan miraculously came to mind. I had to figure out my next move after leaving this town. If a larger town up ahead wasn’t too far away, maybe I could sell a ring or two? The thought mortified me. I loved all my accessories but if it gave me enough cash for gas to make it over the border and to my friend’s, then it’d be worth it. But then what? I’d be stranded there with no money and Alice wasn’t the type of friend I could express my worries to. She was nice and all but she loved to gossip more than the next person. Hearing that I had nothing in my bank account would spread like wildfire. I’m sure my parents thought the same thing, that I’d contact them or reach home just as quickly, begging. And I refused to do that. I couldn’t do that.
Shadow had been by my side the moment I woke, and he silently watched me with his tail wagging. He looked up at me as if begging, probably for the food I assumed. That’s what dogs did, wasn’t it? But he’d only want meat, right? The way he looked at me spoke volumes, that he’d eat anything I’d throw his way. But weren’t dogs allergic to certain foods? “Sorry,” I mouthed to him. That was a risk I wasn’t taking.
The sun had slowly begun rising in the distance and I found myself peeking over in Eric’s direction often, my attention immediately drawing to the magnificent window and view behind him. Rolling snowy mountains rippled off into the distance, slithers of sunlight peeking through while the cabin was still shrouded in darkness. It truly was a breathtaking view and something I hadn’t been able to appreciate last night in the dark.
I poured the whisked ingredients into the fry pan, admiring my handiwork as I hummed to the beat playing in my head with hips swaying as if I were at the club. When I peeked over my shoulder a fourth time at the mountain view, I took a sharp startled breath as my heart rapidly pounded.
Eric was awake; his gaze narrowed on me as he lazily ran a hand over his face and blinked numerous times. Interesting, a not-so-morning-person lumberjack it appeared. My gaze absentmindedly dragged over his naked but hairy chest. A heat flushed my cheeks as I looked away, surprised by my immediate attraction to the older man.
“Good morning,” I chirped, focusing on the omelette at hand as he groggily made his way over.
“What’s this?” He yawned, slipping past me in the kitchen and setting up the coffee pot still half asleep. He yawned again, stretching with the motion. I peeked over my shoulder, embarrassed by my shameful wandering gaze that glided over his back and shoulder muscles. Was that much muscle even possible on a man? On a real one anywayand not someone on social media through an edited lens. He had muscles bulging against muscles. I looked away, internally slapping myself for my gawking.
“I’m making you an omelette, it’s my way of saying thank you.”
He leaned over my shoulder, peering into the pan. His warmth and very naked upper body seemed to ignite a heat that scorched my back. I pretended to be unfazed by his proximity but it suddenly became hard for me to breathe.
“Mmm,” he hummed. What did that even mean? Slowly yawning and dragging his feet back around the island bench now with coffee in hand, he lazily opened the door for Shadow to go out and do his business. He combed through his hair and twisted back and forth. His abs were ridiculously chiseled, the skin pulling tightly over every muscle. Eight defined clumps of pure masculine muscle, dipping into a V at his loose gray sweats.
He took a mouthful of his coffee and his lazy gaze snapped to mine. Suddenly, I realized I’d been staring at him the whole time. Bashful, I looked away, focusing on flipping the omelette.
“How much snow are you used to in Manhattan?” he casually asked through another yawn. Wow he was the furthest thing from a morning person.
With spatula in the air, I considered it. “A normal amount?”
He pointed outside. “This much?” he asked through another yawn.
Intrigued by the most initiative he’d taken in any of our conversations, I rounded the island bench and squeezed between him and the doorframe. Wow. There was so much snow.
“I haven’t seen snow like this for a long time,” I beamed excitedly. “Not since I was a kid creating snowmen when we’d ski in Europe and Canada. And certainly not in Manhattan.” He was watching me quietly as I squealed with excitement by the sight of snow. I supposed to him, I was probably just a cliché city girl. And I didn’t care—I wasn’t going to let it take away the magic and bewilderment of what I saw right now.
It was still mostly dark outside the cabin, the glimmer of sun only just peeking around the house. The cold frost-bitten air swept past my exposed legs. Idly, Shadow pushed back past my knees, preferring the warmth of inside once he’d finished. And I couldn’t entirely blame him.
“Is the omelette burning?” Eric asked.
“What? Oh shit.” I ran around the kitchen bench, cursing as I removed the fry pan off the stove top. “Damn.”
Eric closed the door and peered over my shoulder as I panicked. He took another mouthful of coffee from his now near empty mug in his giant hand as he assessed the damage.
“It’s not so bad but I’ll make you another one.”
His hand paused on my wrist. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. Maybe it had something to do with the roughness of his calloused hands compared to mine, but he was a man, and my loins were screaming to jump his bones. I was certain it came down to some weird primal urge. Gently he said, “I’ll eat it. Just make yourself something as well.”
I nodded curtly, startled by my hot fiery reaction to him. My ovaries were basically jumping out at him. I mean he was obviously hot, but we couldn’t be any more different and then there was the age difference. I internally grimaced, why was I even thinking about this when I had much more pressing matters to consider? And I’d sworn celibacy! I was completely off men. But maybe because all the guys you dated were boys in Manhattan , a little voice antagonized me.
I made the omelette as directed, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually eaten breakfast, well unless it was a juice of some sort.
A heavy silence filled the cabin. I glanced over my shoulder at Eric. He was shoveling the food into his mouth. Perhaps a guy his size needed more than one omelette.
As if feeling my gaze, he said without looking up, “It tastes good. Thank you.”
A satisfied warmth filled me. “One of my college friends always told me the best way to show your gratitude was cooking for someone heartfelt. And I kind of liked that sentiment,” I hummed in my singsong way. I enjoyed cooking, although I barely made time for it.
“Out of gratitude, huh? Is that why mine’s burnt?”
I swept around, abhorred, only to find a small smile curved at his lips. Was he, toying with me?
“I mean that was an accident.”
A low chuckle rumbled from the depths of his stomach. And I found it… mesmerizing. Why did I have the impression that this man couldn’t laugh at all? Probably because of the constant scowl on his expression, or his obvious dislike of me crashing at his place.
“And besides,” I continued, flipping the second omelette, not entirely comfortable with how unnerved he made me feel. “That’s all you’re going to ask? Not about what I studied in college or what my friend’s name was or anything like that?”
“Are you trying to teach me social etiquette?” he mocked.
I harrumphed, suddenly preferring the grizzly version I’d met yesterday. And I wasn’t entirely sure if his sexy change of tone was because he was still half asleep or he was purposefully messing with me.
“I mean you do quite literally live in the mountains. Maybe you need the lesson.” I pointed the spatula at him. His mouth twitched again, and I couldn’t help but smile at him, satisfied to at least get this much out of him. I’d dealt with some of Candice Magazine’s toughest clients at reception and it was my philosophy that I could make anyone my friend. And this man beast would be no different.
I flipped the omelette, satisfied. I didn’t have the chance to make many people omelettes back in Manhattan. Everyone was always busy and only able to schedule time for parties or café catch-ups. And the few dates who actually stayed through the night, always left before there could be any discussion about breakfast. A sullen dread sunk in. At first, Issobelle and I’d joked about my terrible luck with men and serial-dating lifestyle. But the longer I clung to my celibacy, the more I realized I really was shit with men.
“So just to confirm, we’ll be going back down town this morning, right?” I asked quietly. I didn’t want to be a burden on his schedule since I’d already inconvenienced him. But the sooner I could make it to the next town to pawn something—anything—and contact my friend, Alice, that I was on my way, the better. It was a stepping stone, and at least I’d be able to afford gas. A heavy weight sunk into my stomach. But then what would I do?
The cold air had settled in the room, circulating a chill and forming goose bumps on my bare legs. Quietly, Eric went to start up the fireplace again.
“Yes, and we’ll check in to see whether the tree’s been removed and if you can drive though,” Eric replied matter-of-factly. I played around with the omelette distractedly, scraping at the edges. Shadow demanded my attention, nudging me, and obliging, I began scratching the top of his head, which I’d recently learnt he enjoyed.
Minutes later, once Eric was done with the fireplace, he asked, “Didn’t you look at the forecast before driving through the border and to your friends?”
No. I hadn’t thought of that, because I didn’t drive all that often. “Well yes and no,” I lied with a small laugh, agreeable because I didn’t want to sound like a complete ditz. I scraped the second omelette out and back onto his plate.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his second dealing.
“I’m not a breakfast kind of person,” I confessed. “So, here’s another plateful of gratitude,” I brightly beamed. My mind ran away with me again as I absentmindedly began cleaning the fry pan. What happened if I couldn’t get to Alice’s lodge? But returning to Manhattan wasn’t an option either because I had no doubt my parents were still there and waiting. I was not going to fall into their hands, exactly how they wanted me to. But damn this was hard to figure out on my own.