Page 12 of Out of the Cold

“You should bother me if something’s wrong,” he said. “The last thing I need is for something to happen to you or the property because you were too afraid to tell me.”

He didn’t mean to sound like a dick, but it was too late. Her lips pressed together and her skin flushed. Either she was angry or she was embarrassed. Maybe both. He couldn’t blame her for either.

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Let me know if you need anything.” He let himself out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

***

Lucy sat heavily inthe chair Gabriel had vacated. It was still warm from his body.

For a few minutes there, he’d actually seemed human. For one thing, he was clearly exhausted. With his eyes closed, the dark circles had been obvious.

But he had to go and ruin it.

Life would be so much easier if she could pretend he didn’t exist, but she needed him. Which meant she had to find a way to make things better. Besides, it would be a lot less painful to live in the middle of nowhere if the one person within shouting distance didn’t despise her.

But she’d worry about how to become friends with him another time. She had to go food shopping before she starved. Maybe she’d explore the town a bit as well. She was bound to meet people who were friendlier than Gabriel.

Heading into the bathroom—which had a spa shower and huge fluffy towels in the linen closet—she washed her face and brushed her teeth, then dressed quickly in jeans, a warm top and jacket, and sneakers. By the time she finished, she was out of breath.

“Go to bed, Hilde,” she said, pointing toward Hilde’s fluffy blue bed.

Hilde obeyed, turning three times before lying down with a sigh. She should be fine for an hour or so. She was a mature five years old, and all the training Lucy did after getting her from the pound had paid off. Still, she’d make it quick in case Hilde got anxious.

Once in her car, she retraced her route from last night until she hit the main road, then turned right. She lost track of the number of inns, lodges, bed and breakfasts, and motels, all of them quiet. But that made sense. It was a ski town and there was no snow yet.

The businesses grew closer together until she was in the town proper. Getting out of the car, she looked around, taking in the full effect of the mountains looming above the town on all sides, protective and threatening all at once.

There weren’t many people out on the streets. Not a lot of cars, either. The post office looked like a chalet, but once inside, it was the same as post offices everywhere. The place was empty but for a woman behind the counter. She looked up from the book she was reading.

“Morning,” she said, her smile distracted.

Lucy smiled in return. “Hi, I’d like to rent a box.”

“Are you here for the season?” the woman asked, sliding a form across the gray Formica. A placard in front of the credit card machine read “Sara.”

“Yes, until March. Maybe longer,” she said, her stomach dropping at the thought. She could only see a few months into the future, and even that was murky at best.

“It should be a good year. They’re predicting lots of snow. The season won’t really get going for another month or so, though.”

Lucy couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve never skied in my life. I’ve never even seen snow. I’m just hoping to make it through the winter without freezing to death.”

Sara looked at her as if she were a package that had gone wildly astray. “What made you come here, then?”

Lucy managed a wan smile. She’d spare her the long version. “A friend is letting me stay at his place.”

“There’s a lot to do even if you don’t ski. Hang on a second.” Sara disappeared into the back room, returning with the key to her box. “I’ll need a twenty-dollar deposit.”

Lucy fished the money out and passed it to her with the completed form. “Thank you.”

At the bank of boxes, she opened her own to make sure the key worked, then stared into the empty box. Soon she’d be getting bills—car insurance, student loans, one from the dentist from her oral surgery six months ago. Probably that’s all she’d ever get here. It wasn’t like people wrote to each other anymore.

Maybe she’d send letters to all the people she’d been neglecting out of embarrassment at her situation. She was bound to get some letters in return.

Marginally cheered by that idea, she locked the door and attached the key to her key ring, which held the keys to Len’s cabin, her parents’ house, and her own car. The car was the only thing she could rightfully call her own, and it was on its last legs.

Shaking off the thought, she went next to the little gift shop a few blocks down, where she bought a box of fancy stationery. She’d write her correspondence in the armchair by the fire. What could be more satisfying than that?

At the grocery store, she quickly loaded up on everything she’d need over the next week, which included all manner of items for baking. She was going to need a hobby.

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