Page 28 of Since Day One

It smelled like him—whether because of him or because it was out here in this cabin, I didn’t care which. Soothing and soft were what my mind and soul needed right now. Throwing my hat onto the messy pile in the middle of the room, I quickly slid my arms into the shirt only to find it drowned me. Hanging halfway down my thighs and drooping off the end of my hands, I snickered before rolling the sleeves up to my wrists.

Once I managed to button myself up, I attempted to at least fold my wet clothes then moved them to the side of the room. That was as good as it was going to get right now. As the shivering lessened now that I wasn’t quite as wet, I turned the squeaky knob on the bedroom and walked into the main room.

Gunnar was standing at the stove, making what looked like two cups of coffee. His back was to me, his hat drying on the side of the recliner. Twisting the end of my hair that I let drape around my shoulders, I watched him for a moment, worried he was extremely upset at me.

Eventually, he turned around holding both mugs. They were the kind of midnight-blue-speckled-with-white-dot mugs that frequent campouts. Despite the familiarity and comfort, an uneasiness churned within my stomach. Gunnar smiled and approached me, offering me a cup.

“Feeling better, Princess?” he asked, and I narrowed my gaze while taking the mug from him suspiciously. It smelled comforting and hot, and the bitter taste was exactly what I needed as I gazed out the window at the completely white sheet the landscape had become.

“You’re not mad?” I looked back at him, hugging the mug close. He winked and shook his head. “You should be. It’s my fault we’re out here, stuck. All alone when you should be with family.”

He ran a hand through his damp hair, adding some curly life back into the clean cut. “Why would I be mad at you? Yeah, we are maybe stuck here. All alone. Just the two of us. Which is such a damn shame.” He winked, mocking me, and I rolled my eyes but felt the tension begin to melt away.

“But honestly, I think you handled that situation fairly well considering how jealous she obviously is.” He finished and leaned back against the counter behind him, casually taking a sip of his coffee. I looked at the black liquid, raised it to my lips and allowed the warmth to fill my body.

“Wait.” I blinked. “Jealous? She did that because she’s jealous?” I stared at Gunnar who looked as if it had always been obvious that was why she’d been acting like she did.

“Yes. No one acts like that to another human unless they want something from you. She constantly tears you down, cut up your hat because she heard it was your favorite, and said it was because you’re not a real cowgirl.”

My jaw fell open in shock. The explanation I’d been craving for years had been in my face all along. Something he learned by merely watching our interactions for a week.

“I feel dumb,” I grumbled, staring at the floor.

“Normally I would say something in agreement to said statement, but—“

“Gunnar!” I cut him off with a shriek, and he laughed, quickly moving across the room out of my reach. He raised his hands in defense, flashing a mischievous smile.

“Asshole,” I added petulantly.

“I’m going to change into something dry.” And he disappeared inside the bedroom. Once the door clicked shut behind him, I was left with the sound of the fire crackling and the warm coffee in my hand. Frigid cold seeped into my toes resting against the bare hardwood floors, but the ache in my belly from missing dinner was more overwhelming.

I meandered into the kitchen, running a hand over the surprisingly clean countertops. Even the sink lacked a speck of dust. A cabin in the middle of the woods that seemed to be uninhabited most of the time was clean. But Gunnar mentioned that the cabins were frequently restocked with essentials in a pantry and the fridge.

Tugging on the handle of the refrigerator, it opened to reveal some farm-fresh, unwashed eggs, yeast, butter, milk, even some cheese. All of the things that may spoil quickly but were necessary. Small quantities of each, but enough. Closing the fridge, I set my empty mug on the counter and made my way to the last door I hadn’t seen inside.

The moment I cracked it open, I could smell and feel the drop in temperature. As the lamp light filtered into the room, I saw a massive storage of canned goods. We could survive for quite a while in this cabin eating things from here. Gathering some vegetables, canned beans, and a few other things, I decided to make a chili that Sally had once shown me.

The bedroom door opened as I was setting the canned items on the counter, and Gunnar’s footsteps padded across the room in my direction. Slowly flipping through the cupboards, I found a cast iron pot in the bottom next to the stove and heaved it out.

“What are you doing?” Gunnar asked over my shoulder, startling me, and I nearly dropped the heavy pot.

“Making food.”

His finger came around my shoulder and pointed at the cast iron. “In that?”

“Yes.”

“On the stove?”

“What’s the big deal?” I placed the pot back on the counter, knowing full well that I wasn’t going to use the stove, but wondering what was going through his head.

“Just wondering,” he answered, his eyes obviously running across the ingredients I had sitting out. “But like, not that it’s wrong, I just think the taste…” He paused. “Never mind.”

“You’re worried I’m going to kill you if you eat whatever I make.” I grinned to myself, hiding the smile by keeping my back to him.

“I would not put it past you to poison me,” he replied, and I bit back the snort that threatened to escape. Finishing up combining everything, I turned around to face him as he leaned against the counter with one arm to watch what I was doing. One ankle crossed with his other hand tucked into the pocket of his gray sweatpants, he lifted a brow.

“Ye of little faith,” I answered, heaving the pot off the counter and brushing a hand across the army-green T-shirt fabric bunched over his chest. The moment my hand made contact with his body, he stiffened, freezing beneath my touch.

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