Page 4 of Cold Foot Komodo

“Call Wreck? Tell him you told me no.”

“I don’t have his number. I tried to call Timber, but she didn’t pick up.”

The man handed her a phone with a simple black phone case. When she looked at the screen, she noticed Wreck’s name across it. The phone was ringing. She pulled it up to her ear just in time for Wreck to ask, “Is it done?”

“Hi, Wreck.”

“Sasha?”

“Yep, it’s me. I’m in town and your…friend…is off the hook. He helped me haul the boxes in, but I really would like some time to myself to get used to this place. If that’s okay. I appreciate the help, but it’s been a long trip and I’m good.”

“Sure thing. I’ll have him wait out front.”

“Wait out front for what?”

“He’s bringing you up the mountain to see the Cold Foot territory. It’s tricky getting up here. GPS is still pretty confused on where we are. I don’t want you getting lost up here.”

“Oh, okay. Tonight?”

“Your sister is planning something for you up here. Act surprised.”

Sasha laughed. “Really?”

“Yeah, she’s outside building a whole-ass canopy, and has a hot chocolate bar being set up. She’s been counting down the minutes until you got here.”

Touched to her soul, Sasha leaned on the wall…and yelped as it dented in.

The man’s steel grip was on her arm in an instant, and she huffed a shocked yell.

“What was that?” Wreck asked as the man righted her and released her quick.

“Oh, the house has some extra…character,” she said, glaring at the hole in the old, paper-thin drywall.Thank you, she mouthed to the man.

“Well, the welcome party will be ready in a couple hours,” Wreck told her. “Use Reed however you want.”

Reed. Cool name.

“Okay, thank you. Hey Wreck?” she asked before he could hang up.

“Yeah?”

“I…” She didn’t know what it was that her heart was wanting to say, and the words got all clogged up in her throat.

“We’re really happy you’re here, Sasha.”

The line went dead. Sasha lowered the phone and looked at the screen as it dimmed to black. A text popped up, and she felt like she’d been busted doing something bad as she read the message.

Fine, motherfurcker. $1400 a month and you do the repairs. That’s the lowest I’ll go. She can paint the house whatever color she wants. Just send me pictures.

“Oh my gosh, there’s a text,” she said on a breath, shoving the phone toward him. “Mister Henderson misspelled motherfucker.”

Reed tossed two fingers up, turned, and left. Just…left her there with his phone. “What did it say?” he called.

“It says ‘what are you wearing, I hope it’s nothing’.”

Reed stuck his head around the corner of the hallway. “What?”

“Just kidding.”

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