Page 1 of Knotting Before Them

“So you want someplaceelse to stay?”

“Yes.”

“But it needs to be facing the mountain,” I explained in a hushed voice. “In the right way,” I added, in case there were any misunderstandings.

The barkeep smirked, an eyebrow quirking up, finding my request funny, no doubt.

I brushed my hair out of my face, not caring if I looked a little too crazy. I knew how I sounded; I just didn’t care. I had to believe there were odder requests out there than wanting a room with a view, right?

Therightview.

I hiked up my orange jacket, my grand attempt to add some color to the white snow of Switzerland, and smiled sweetly at the man in front of me. Like most men in this town, he was tall, burly, and in the majority.

I arrived in this small town two days ago, and since then, I could count on one hand the amount of women I’ve seen. What’s worse, the overwhelming number ofmenwere are unbelievablytall, with bushy beards and strong arms.

“I’m an artist, you see,” I tried to explain. “I came all the way to Switzerland for those mountains, but the B&B doesn’t really have a good view, and it’s definitely too cold to stand outside.”

The man scratched his chin, watching me in all my five-foot-zero glory.

“You want to paint the mountains, huh?” he asked in a thick accent.

“No.” I shook my head, but I thought better of it. “Well, I draw them first, and then I’ll make sculptures.”

“Sculptures?”

I nod. “Yes. That’s my job.”

“You go around making sculptures of mountains? How’s that a job?”

I opened my mouth only to close it again. I didn’t know. I wasn’t raised in the most conventional way, never considered a regular office job. My parents were the Apazas, the famous Bolivian painters. They traveled across the globe making breathtaking art and selling it to the most notorious galleries on the planet.

I was their little shadow, absorbing their teachings. I was homeschooled, even though I never had a place to call home. I grew up everywhere.

I knew it sounded odd to the barkeep, but it was the only way I knew how to live. I was the last Apaza, and I had a big name to carry.

“Okay, you see that cabin?” I slid along the bar, pointing straight to the massive three-floor wooden cabin close to the foot of the mountain. “Can I stay there?”

The house was perfectly located, and it looked big enough to receive guests. I was only staying for two weeks, after all.

“There? You want to stay there?” the barkeep chuckled.

“I’d pay anything. It’s the perfect spot. It’s practically inside the mountain.”

Maybe he couldn’t see it. I wasn’t good at expressing myself, wasn’t good around people. I never had friends my age. The closest I had to friends were my parents, and since they died, I’d been floating around, alone and having trouble connecting with other people.

I let out a slow breath when the barkeep chuckled.

“Hey, Carol, are you hearing this?” He threw a rag over his shoulder and called his co-worker, one of the few women I’d seen around. “She wants to stay there.”

Carol’s eyes followed his pointed finger and locked onto the cabin through the window. She smirked as her eyes bounced back to me. “Don’t we all?”

I shrugged, not sure how to reply. Sure, it was a beautiful house with a gorgeous view. I could only assume many people would die for the privilege.

“It’s privately owned, sweetheart.”

“I see, but—” I turned my head to the barkeep. “I’m sorry, I never asked your name.”

“Owen.”

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