Chapter Two
Thane
The wood cracks and hisses as I lay another log on the fire, using up the last of the firewood in the house.
I’ll need to refill the woodbox before I can stoke the fire when I go to bed tonight.
For now, there’s just enough wood on the fire to last until then.
I always have the electric heat to supplement if needed, but the fire is cheaper and much more efficient.
Christmas carols play from the Bluetooth speaker as I finish decorating my tree.
Usually I have it done long before now, but I got caught up in plotting my latest novel when an idea hit me after putting the tree in place.
The other decorations have been up for weeks, but I save the tree until closer to Christmas because it takes up so much room in my little cabin, and a real tree doesn’t last as long with the heat inside.
Nostalgia hits like it always does when I do this task. It is both a joyous and sorrowful event for me. Joy in the memories, which come in spades from each ornament placed just so, but also sadness at what has been missing for far too many years now. Five, to be exact.
My mother loved Christmas. She spent her life working too hard to raise me on her own after my father walked out before I was born.
Everything she did was for me, but anything extra she had she put into Christmas.
She said there was magic in the season and it was a special time to be cherished.
I will never forget how she worked extra shifts at the diner to make sure I had plenty of wrapped presents under the tree, even if they were mostly necessities.
When she finally went to the doctor after she’d been feeling ill, they discovered it was already too late and the cancer had invaded her entire body.
I had been about to re-enlist for another tour with the army but opted out and spent what time she had left with her.
We had Christmas early that year. She made me promise I would decorate for her every year after and not let her passing interfere with celebrating.
So as much as it hurts, I continue the tradition to honor the woman who loved me unconditionally and gave me the best life possible within her means.
I save the snowflake ornament for last. It was her favorite, one I had crafted from wood while in high school. Hanging it in the spot I saved for it front and center, I step back to look over my handiwork. Ma would’ve been proud of this tree.
Now that it’s done, I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the Christmas season diving into writing this new book.
Since it’s the first in a new series, I also spent extra time plotting for the following books as well.
Settling in at my computer after grabbing a beer, I read over my notes.
Tilting my head from side to side, I stretch and crack my neck as I place my hands on the keys.
The words come hesitantly at first, but soon my fingers are flying across the keyboard as I get in the zone and the story comes to life.
I’m two and a half pages in, and the words are streaming almost without conscious thought, when a knock at the door interrupts me like a record scratch. Heaving a groan at the disruption, I shove back from the large oak desk.
Glancing out the window it’s hard to miss how high the snow has piled this afternoon.
Now I wonder who could possibly be out in this weather.
I don’t get much traffic up this way in normal weather, it’s one of the reasons I bought this place.
Even if it’s clichéd for a writer to be reclusive living in a remote cabin.
I’ve never cared much what others think of me anyway.
I take a swallow of my beer, which is now warm, before shuffling to the door, grumbling because I’ve lost the momentum I barely got a start on. It’ll take me forever to get back into the groove.
On that thought I pull the door open with a growl. “What?”
The woman standing there, bundled up in what has to be the world’s largest coat, takes a step back as her gaze darts around. “Oh, um s-sorry.” She glances behind her, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll just go.”
I can’t help my scoff at that. “Look lady, I don’t know how you managed to get up here, but have you not noticed how deep the snow has gotten.
Hell I can’t even see your tire tracks in the driveway and you just pulled in.
You’ll never make it back down the mountain.
You’ve already interrupted me, you might as well come in and tell me whatever it is you stopped here for. ”
Her head shakes as she backs up. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m sorry for interrupting you.”
“Wait.” I start to reach for her, but when she flinches at my movement I hold my hands up instead.
“Let me apologize. I was in the middle of writing and irritated at the disturbance, but what’s done is done.
Please, come in. My ma would have my hide for turning someone away in a storm like this.
” I stand back, leaving her plenty of room to enter the cabin.
She eyes me warily but gives a nod before preceding me inside. “Thank you. I just need directions and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
I bark a laugh. “Sugarplum, I’ll give you directions, but this storm says you won’t be out of my hair any time soon. Now can I take your coat?”
Her eyebrows knit as she looks past me outside, where she just came from, where the snow has piled high. She sighs, her shoulders slumping before she mutters, “I guess.”
When she flips her hood back and shrugs out of the bulky outerwear, my dick jumps to attention at what had been hidden beneath.
The opposition of the angelic, heart-shaped face framed by short golden hair, that may as well be a halo, and the lush curves of a body made for sin and meant to bring a man to his knees has me almost falling to mine.
My eyes dart to her left hand and elation courses through me when I see no ring.
Maybe this interruption just might be worth the hassle, even if it keeps me from my writing for much longer than I could’ve ever anticipated.