Chapter 1 #2
"You came to see him?" Her mouth pops open in shock.
"Not exactly," I squeak. He keeps suggesting that I come see what he does, but I've been ignoring his emails for the last few weeks. "Um, but maybe I came to spy on him?"
"You came to spy on him?"
"He said I didn't know anything about real cowboys," I mutter defensively.
Clover glances from the road to me, then back to the road, and then to me. "Oh, Cassia," she finally says with a soft laugh. "You've got it bad, girl."
"I know!" I cry, covering my face with my hands. I do have it bad. Which makes no sense at all. I don't even like him. And yet…and yet he's got my mind so twisted up that I'm in Lake Tahoe, risking freaking jail just to catch a glimpse of him.
Obsessed, party of one. Your room is ready.
* * *
"I should have brought Sisyphus," I mutter, prowling around my cabin.
It's probably a good thing I left him with my brother.
He hates the cold. Plus, Zoey has her chihuahua, Woofers, with her.
Sisyphus doesn't like dogs much. We're not sharing a cabin, but he probably wouldn't do very well around Woofers.
He tries to fight the neighbor's dog all the time.
Clover and I were the last ones to arrive, naturally, but everything was waiting when we got here.
My cabin for the week is lovely. The single bedroom is tucked into a little loft overhead.
The bathroom, while small, has a large soaking tub.
The real draw is the living room, though.
Natural light spills in from windows on all four sides, filling the space with warmth.
The furniture is soft and inviting, with a cozy gas fireplace front and center.
It's beautiful but far too quiet. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem.
Being alone never bothered me much. After living with my mom's theatrics for so long, peace and quiet is a luxury as far as I'm concerned.
Plus, it comes in handy when I'm writing.
But Cord has seeped into every fiber of my new hero since he started emailing me.
I'm spiraling into obsession. It's a sickness.
I can't help it though! He's stuck in my head, and I can't get him out again.
My phone dings with an incoming notification.
Thinking it might be one of the girls, I pull it out.
It's another email from Cord.
Ms. Very Busy Author,
I'm beginning to think you're ignoring me, princess. Did seeing a real cowboy scare you off? Was it the bubble bath? I would apologize for asking about that bubble bath, but that'd be a lie. Cowboys may not be gentlemen, but we don't lie. I'm still curious. You, soapy, wet, slippery….
Speaking of which, I'd like to lodge a formal complaint about the lake scene in Homebound Hero. He let someone watch him pleasure her. I would have ripped his throat out for looking at what doesn't belong to him.
The bull went on the lam again this morning. You'll be disappointed to know that he's been returned to captivity.
Still ready to teach you about real cowboys,
Cord
"Oh my gosh," I whisper, blinking wide eyes at my phone.
What are the chances that the bull who almost killed me and Clover today is the same bull Cord has been emailing me about?
I hover my finger over the reply button, ready to fire off an email to ask, and then quickly change my mind. What am I even going to say?
Cord, is your bull a red beast with a temper? If so, he tried to murder me on the road today, but a giant mountain man bossed him back into the bushes.
No, thank you. He's not supposed to know I'm here. This is a covert operation. I get in, get some good material for my book, satisfy my curiosity, and get out before he ever knows I was anywhere remotely close to Tahoe. We never see each other face to face. That's the only way this plan works.
If I actually have to see him or—worse—speak to him, the whole apple cart explodes, and I end up with applesauce. Or doing fifty to life in max with a cellmate named Gerdy who offed her third husband. Either way, it doesn't end well for me. I can just see the headlines now.
Indignant author hunts down reader.
Crazy pants author goes Misery on reader in bizarre role reversal.
Complaints from cowboy reader send romance author over the edge.
No, no, and no. Orange is not my color, and I really don't want to share a shower with one hundred other women. Last year, Paige, Emmy, and I had to share a bathroom for a week. I forgot what hot water felt like.
I need a distraction. No, I need reinforcements.
I click out of Cord's email without responding and pull up my text app.
Me: What are you doing?
Paige: Looking for reasons to escape my cabin instead of writing. You?
Me: Overthinking.
Paige: Ouch. Wanna go convince Emmy to get day drunk with us?
Me: Um, definitely.
Paige: On my way.
I breathe a sigh of relief, tucking my phone into my pocket.
I knew I could count on Paige. She never asks questions or pries for more than I'm ready to give.
She just shows up, ready to wait me out.
I hope she doesn't mind, but she might be waiting a while this time.
I'm not ready to talk about Cord yet or the mess he's making of my brain.
Clover got as much out of me today as I'm willing to share.
"I met a mountain man," I blurt, flinging open the door as soon as Paige knocks.
"You met a mountain man?" she asks, blinking wide eyes at me. A slow grin spreads across her face. She's used to the way my brain works.
"Yes. Well, no." I shake my head. "I mean, Clover and I almost ran over a bull on the way in today, but a mountain man walked out of the bushes like a freaking cow wrangler and told the bull to go home, and he went."
"Wow," she says, tucking her wild blonde curls behind her ears. "Your day has been way more adventurous than mine. Was he hot?"
"He was a giant." I flap a hand in the air. "That's beside the point."
"Hot is never beside the point, Cassia."
"True."
"What is the point?"
"The point is…you were talking about writing mountain men. This is your sign. There are mountain men here. You can come in," I say, holding the door open for her.
"We're going to Emmy's," she reminds me, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the cabin. "She's planning to actually work this week." Paige makes a face at me. "It's up to us to put a stop to this madness."
"I need to work this week," I mutter, thinking about the not-Cord cowboy I'm supposed to be writing right now.
"Me too. Day drinking is more fun."
"So much more fun."
"Plus, we'll end up working while drinking anyways.
Someone will need brainstorming and that totally counts.
I also might need to explore this mountain man idea some more.
I can't believe you remembered I mentioned that.
It was a couple of weeks ago in one of our online brainstorming chats, right?
I'm just so bored with knights. I want to stretch and grow and write something that challenges me. "
"You seemed very set on mountain men. I think it's a great idea. And this area seems perfect for it."
"True. You know how I like to do hands-on research."
We link arms, giggling as we stroll down the cobblestone path between cabins.
I should have grabbed a jacket. The air is downright frosty.
Patches of snow and ice still dot the ground and tree line in places from the last storm that blew through.
It's supposed to storm again tomorrow or the next day.
"I can't believe you suggested Tahoe," Paige says, her gaze following mine to the snow.
"It's a nice change of pace."
"Mmhmm," she says, not buying it for a minute.
"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "I brought you to mountain men. That means you aren't allowed to ask me any questions."
Paige snorts. "That is not at all what that means. But I will give you more time if you need it."
"I need it," I groan, thinking about Cord's last email. You, soapy, wet, slippery… "I definitely need it." If I tell her what I'm here to do, she'll think I'm nuts. Or, worse, she'll insist I actually knock on his door and meet him the proper way.
I doubt he'll be so eager to see me all naked and slippery wet when he knows I'm a twenty-six-year-old virgin cat lady who has never been kissed, let alone done any of the things I write about.
I'm not ashamed of who I am, this much is true.
But I'm not blind either. Men who look like Cord Decker go for women who look like my mom.
They don't go for never-been-kissed curvy virgins like me.