Chapter Eight
Martina
Worse things?
Than being a full-time single parent? Than Charlie losing his dad?
Dallas is mysterious. Guarded even. While I’ve often been accused of having verbal diarrhea and spewing out every thought that crosses my mind, he seems to hold all his cards close to his chest.
Finally, I see my car come into view. It’s even more mangled than I remember. Dallas was right. I’m fortunate to be alive and that a bump on the head and bruised-up wrist are my only injuries. And more than that, I’m lucky he found me.
My car is buried under a foot of snow, and when I peek inside, snow and ice cover the dash and front seats. I’d have been an icicle for sure.
I pop the trunk, open my suitcase, and motion for the backpack. “Do you mind?”
Dallas is lost somewhere in his own head. He’s staring into the back seat of the car, probably wondering if I could have survived the night there.
Maybe I could have used Charlie’s car seat to plug up the gaping hole in the windshield. But that wouldn’t have helped with the cold. The engine is dead. I had no blankets. No hat or gloves. I shudder at how close Charlie came to losing both parents in the span of just a few days.
“Dallas?” I walk to the side of the car and put a hand on his back.
He flinches and his eyes snap to mine. “What? Oh, yeah, here.” He hands me the empty backpack and I get started transferring everything I can fit into it.
I packed quickly when the phone call came. Through my tears, I stuffed clothes into a suitcase without even thinking about the enormous differences in weather between where I was coming from and where I was going.
When I pull out my undergarments, I peek around the trunk at Dallas. My cheeks heat at the thought of him touching the lace of my bra or the satin of my favorite panties. My heart pounds when a sudden image appears in my mind of him removing the garments from my body.
When he looks over and his eyes lock onto mine, he studies me, and I wonder if he knows what I’m thinking. He’s not looking at me like he wants to bed me. It’s more of a pensive look, as if he’s trying to read me. Despite the cold, warmth spreads throughout my body, pooling in places I swear had gone dormant.
I clear my throat, look away, and go back to the task at hand.
It won’t all fit into the backpack. I leave two pairs of open-toed shoes, a book, and a few toys I’d brought for Charlie. I do make sure to stuff his favorite tattered bear in with my other belongings. He was so excited to go on an airplane that he forgot to grab it. And I was so nervous about him flying, I failed to pack it.
Flying hasn’t been high on my list of fun things to do. Not since Charles and I went on our honeymoon in the Bahamas and our plane almost crashed into the Atlantic.
I close the suitcase, then the trunk, and sling the backpack onto my shoulder. Then I stare at my trusty old car that I’ve had since I was a teenager.
“It’s just a car,” Dallas says with some urgency.
I turn, hands on hips. “It is not just a car. Betsy is full of old memories.”
“Betsy?” he says, amused.
“Charles named her. It used to be his car. He won it from a friend after they made a bet over who could deadlift more weight.” I laugh at the memory. “Charles’s family was a lot better off than mine. I’d lost both my parents, and it was just me and my brother. So when I got my license a few weeks after he won the car, Charles gave it to me and bought a new one.” I put my hand on the rear bumper. “He asked me to marry him in this car. And Charlie was almost born in Betsy.”
“Sounds like someone is a little hung up on their ex.”
“It’s not like that. At all . But I’m going to miss this car.”
“So, I have a question. What would the other guy have won if your ex lost the bet?”
I roll my eyes. “Me.”
His face is full of surprise. And maybe anger. “What the fuck?”
I snicker. “Don’t worry, he wouldn’t have really gone through with it. We were kids and it was a stupid bet. Besides, Charles knew he was going to win.”
“Still. He had no right.” He shakes his head forcefully. “And he took the car, which means he would have ‘paid up’ had he been on the losing side.” He looks up at the darkening morning sky, cursing my ex under his breath. “Anyway, we should go. Do you want another protein bar?”
I ignore the offer, still looking at Betsy.
“Well then.” He takes the backpack off my shoulder, slings it onto his back, and secures the chest straps. “Let’s see if we can beat the weather.”
For a few long minutes as we head back, I ponder Dallas’s words. Would Charles have given me to his friend? I mean, I’m nobody’s property, but I never really thought about it. How come in seven years, I’d never bothered to ask? Maybe because he gave me the car. Still. I should have asked. Or better yet, he should never have bet me in the first place.
Dallas is perfectly content making the hike back to his cabin in total silence. It makes me think how we must be total opposites. I need conversation. I need people. I could never live out here and be one with nature and only have my thoughts to keep me company. I’d go insane.
“Tell me about this family business of yours,” I say.
His gruff of displeasure is audible. He really does prefer silence.
“Come on, Dallas. It’s a long walk. Humor me.”
If I could see his eyes, I’m one hundred percent sure he’d be rolling them.
“I’m CFO.”
“Chief Financial Officer?”
He nods, again seemingly unimpressed with his own title.
“And what exactly is your family business?” I ask as if Asher hasn’t already told me.
“Wine.”
“Ahhh. That explains it then. For a minute there, I thought you might have an unhealthy obsession with alcohol. I’ve never seen such an impressive collection. So where exactly is this family business?”
“A place I’m sure you’ve never heard of.”
I take a dozen quick steps and poke him on the shoulder. “Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be here. But neither of us has a choice. We might as well make the best of it.”
His cheeks blow out with a long exhale. “Calloway Creek.”
There’s pain in his eyes when he says the town name. So many questions burn in the back of my mind. But Dallas Montana doesn’t seem too eager to open up to me, so I keep things cordial.
“You’re right. I’ve never heard of it. Where is it?”
“It’s just outside of New York City.”
“It sounds small.”
“Population twenty thousand.”
“Wow, that is small.” Maybe it’s not that big of a jump for him to go from such a small town to a cabin in the woods. There were more than forty thousand students at FSU. I can’t even imagine an entire town that’s half the size of my alma mater’s student body. “I assume you grew up there?”
“I did.” He reaches into his pocket and rips open a protein bar. “I’m going to eat now.”
Hmm . He ended that conversation quite abruptly. So he doesn’t want to talk about this little town where he grew up. Dallas is becoming more mysterious by the minute. And I’m nothing if not curious. But I bite my tongue and fall back a few steps, because clearly he doesn’t want to talk.
I let him be and make a mental list of what I need to do on my phone or laptop in case cell service goes out again. I need to make a few calls so Anita and Asher won’t worry. And I should make sure all my devices are fully charged in case his propane runs out before the tow truck arrives.
I suppose I’m not the one who needs to worry about it though. He did claim we’d have enough for another day or two. I should be long gone if and when he does lose power. It makes me wonder if he’d pack up and go back to Calloway Creek. Or is the thought of going back to his hometown so daunting he’d rather freeze to death in some remote cabin?
I focus on the back of his head. Who is this guy?
~ ~ ~
The wind has picked up and snow is starting to fall again as we approach his cabin.
My stomach starts to rumble as we walk through the front door, but my feet take priority. I peel off my wet socks and lay them by the fire—soon to be our only heat source. “If you really think you might lose power, we should start eating anything that might spoil. Mind if I whip up some brunch?”
He puts the backpack on the floor and removes his coat. “Have at it. I’m going to take that cold shower now.”
Without thinking about it, my eyes go directly to his crotch. Then my face heats up and I quickly look away when I realize I’ve misread the situation and am a total idiot.
“As if,” I think he says under his breath as he heads toward the bathroom.
I stare after him. What the hell is that supposed to mean? An eyebrow raises. O oooooooh, maybe he’s gay . That has to be it. Because come on, single guy in a remote cabin stranded with a pretty girl he’s just saved from certain demise? That’s got hot one-night stand written all over it.
And for the umpteenth time today, I find I’m practically drooling over the gorgeous puzzle of a hermit who is, at this very moment, getting naked and wet in the shower.
I scold myself when I hear my own audible sigh. I should definitely not be thinking about who may or may not remove the cobwebs between my legs at a time when my best friend’s funeral is being planned.
Damn, woman, get a grip . I need to call Anita. I put her on speaker as I dice up vegetables and reheat his leftover steak from last night.
After I update Anita, check in on Charlie, and reassure him I’ll be there as soon as possible, I call Asher.
“Good news, I hope?” he asks.
“Sorry, no. I’m stuck here until tomorrow. There’s a lot of snow and limited resources. Getting a plow or a tow truck all the way out here is not high on their list of priorities. And it’s snowing again.”
“Jesus.”
“What is it?”
“I’m looking at a weather map right now. Marti, it’s not looking good. If you’re in as remote a place as you say, it could be more than just another day. They’re calling for a blizzard. Up to two more feet of snow. It’s all over the news. Holy shit.”
“What?” I pull up the weather on my phone and stare at the large purple blob coming this way. Purple. That’s worse than red. I sit heavily on one of the kitchen chairs. “Asher, he’s almost out of propane.”
“What are you talking about?”
“His cabin.” I sigh heavily. “It runs on propane. His delivery got pushed back due to the snow. If the weather gets as bad as forecasted, it may be delayed by a long time. He’s going to lose power. And I’m… oh, God, Asher, I’m stuck here.”
“Charge your phone and your backup charger. You have one of those, right? Call the authorities and let them know you’re almost out of propane. That should move you up the list. I’m looking at plane tickets now and I’ll—”
I look down at my phone. The call dropped. Zero bars.
My head slumps forward. How is this my life right now?