Page 1 of Her Silver Fox Mountain Men

1

Elise

Arickety cabin in desperate need of repair in the middle of nowhere is all I can afford, but it’s safe, and the heating system works. The nights are cold on this side of the Rocky Mountains, even in summer.

The only current concerning issues are the mountain lions that have been spotted wandering nearby and the fact that my windows and doors don’t provide much in terms of protection.

Suddenly, I hearSCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH.

I leap up from the sofa, my heart thudding like crazy, and take a deep breath to stop myself from fainting.

SCRATCH-SCRATCH.

“Oh, no,” I mumble, quickly picking up on where the noise is coming from.

“Fan-frickin’-tastic. Just what I need,” I say in a trembling whisper as I grab the nearest object—a measly wrought iron poker. I’m not sure what I’ll be able to do with it, but it’s better than nothing.

SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH.

I take a couple of steps back, then embolden myself to go into the kitchen and investigate. It’s too dark to see anything outside.

SCRATCH-SCRATCH.

This time, it’s followed by a low growl.

“Oh, shit.”

I’m shaking like a leaf despite wearing my warmest jammies. What do I do? The window rattles ever so slightly. There’s no way the latch will withstand whatever’s out there. I’ve had trouble with it before.

My blood rushes through my veins, hot and cold at the same time, as I try to come up with a solution to a problem I didn’t foresee, one I had hoped I would never encounter.

Coming off a ten-hour shift at the diner has slowed my brain down to a near halt. I need to think of something, and fast.

The poker is shaking in my right hand.

With my left, I pick up my cell phone, intent on dialing 911.

No. I stop myself. It’ll take them forever to get up here. I’ll probably have become a tasty snack by the time the sheriff reaches this place.

I need another option.

Suddenly, it comes to me. My neighbor James. I got his number off of a sign in the window of the car he’s selling.

With trembling fingers, I manage to place the call, my gaze constantly darting back to the window in question. The nightsare dark and terrifying up here. I still can’t see anything, but I can only imagine what kind of creature is out there.

“Hello?” a gravelly voice asks.

My heart skips an extra beat. “Hi, is… is this James?”

“This is James.”

“Yeah, hi, sorry to disturb you,” I say and clear my throat, realizing that I sound awful as I’m trembling down to my bones. “It’s Elise… your, um, your neighbor. You know, Mr. Ronald’s cabin?”

“It’s almost midnight,” James replies, his tone understandably flat. I feel awful. I probably woke him up.

“I know, I know, and I apologize. It’s just… there’s something scratching at my kitchen window, and I didn’t know who else to call. It’ll take the sheriff too long to get here, and I saw your number posted on the windshield of that Ford you had outside the gates.”

“Are you alone?” he asks.

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