Page 51 of Cabin Fever

"WHAT THE HOLY FUCKis this place? And how does it smell so amazing?" A strange female voice came from the front of the cabin.

I put my toothbrush down before rinsing the toothpaste from around my mouth.

"It's a cabin, Bea." Olivia's deadpan voice caused a smile to form on my face.

After finishing in the bathroom, I opened the door and hesitantly walked out. I hadn't expected Olivia's sister to show up. Olivia mentioned yesterday that she had called her at the diner but said no more about it. I could tell Olivia didn't want to speak any more about the phone call. Since I'm a man who understood when to let things go, I never asked her another question.

Perhaps I should have been nosy and pried further—then at least I'd have known to expect Bea. I would have made more coffee and a few extra slices of bacon at the very least.

"Oh, this must be the sheep farmer." One of Bea's large brown eyes winked at Olivia.

"Bea, stop. This is Carter. This is his cabin."

Her sister stood straight, and I noticed they were the same height, both on the short side but not too small. Where Olivia had long blond hair, Bea's dark brown locks were short. But their eyes were the same color, the same shape.

Bea strode toward me, confidence in her step as she held out her hand. "I'm Beatrice Love, Olivia's sister. It's a pleasure to meet you, Carter. I must say your cabin is adorable."

I noticed the handshake was firm but not bone-crushingly so and the air in the room felt electrified, almost like she was someone to know. I had the strange sensation that everything I would offer her wouldn't be good enough.

Kitty sat rigidly on her bed by the door staring at Bea. Everyone in this room was waiting for Bea's instruction, including me.

"Adorable? Thank you."

The moment after I said that, I felt my cheeks flush. Why couldn't I imagine a better response? Tell her the last thing a sheep farmer in the mountains thought of while decorating his home was anythingadorable. Practical, yes. Rugged, yes. Adorable, not so much—that was for magazines and soccer moms.

Bea turned, obviously done with me and walked back to her sister. "I'm in desperate need for coffee. Based on your complexion, Ollie, you need to get out. Why don't we head to a café? I'll wait for you two to get ready."

I gazed down at my flannel shirt and jeans that I had put on less than twenty minutes ago and wondered if I owned better clothing.

"These are our clothes, Bea. It's not like I packed a suitcase before I ran from the wedding. Carter was nice enough to let me borrow his old clothes while I've been here."

"But what about the credit card I left you at the diner in town? Did you get it?"

Olivia frowned, her eyes flickered to me for a brief moment before returning to her sister's scrutiny. "Yes, but I don't have much use for nice clothes here at the farm."

Beatrice's brow crinkled, and it seemed she rarely wore that expression. She appeared uncomfortable in her confusion. Pointing to me and then Olivia, Bea opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

She went over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Once seated, she spoke. "You've been here the whole time? No skiing or nights out or anything?"

"Just about. I did have to go to the hospital a few days ago to pick up Carter." Olivia pointed to my arm. "That's when we stopped at the diner and I got your letter. I went out and bought one pair of jeans and a sweater, but that's all I had time to get. There's too much to do on the farm to be out shopping all day."

Bea's head shook as if Olivia's explanation only produced more questions. "Then who drove you? Where's your driver?" Beatrice turned to me.

I felt less than for not having a driver. This wasn't like me. I never cared what people thought of me or my life. Yet, her presence turned me into a scolded child willing to do anything to make things right.

"I, uh . . . I don't have a driver. Olivia drove my truck."

A loud gasp echoed through the air. It was a few decimals shy of a sonic boom. That sound came from Bea's mouth.

"You drove?"

Olivia walked over to the kitchen and began to pour a mug of the small amount of coffee that was left from the French press. "The vet showed up after Carter fell and hurt his arm. He showed me how to work the truck and guided me to the hospital. I felt good about the refresher course."

Beatrice watched her sister place the mug on the table in front of her as if she performed a magic trick.

"I think I did a good job getting us home, right, Carter?"

"We got home. And we're still alive, so I guess it was good."

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