Page 65 of Lovingly Restored

“You’re gonna take care of it?” I rub my hands up my arms to chase away the chill of the air and the thought of long, hairless tails.

“You wait here.”

She rummages around in the bed of the truck, for what, I have no idea. I keep the interior clean but have odds and ends kicking around back there. It’s a work truck, after all. She comes out holding a five-gallon bucket and heads for the cabin where the front door is still ajar. Before entering, she grabs an old straw broom with splayed bristles from the porch. When she disappears, I wonder if I’m still getting laid after this display of cowardice.

“C’mere, little guy.” I hear her say inside.

You’ve got to be kidding me.She’s talking to it?

A brief shriek is followed by a series of muffled bangs, and Ashlyn marches out triumphantly, holding the bucket aloft.

“You ready to start our vacation, big guy?” A gorgeous grin is plastered on her face.

I tentatively join her, shaking my head in disbelief.

She tips the bucket, and onto the fresh snow falls a tiny grey mouse, miniscule pink paws curled against its chest. After a few seconds, it flips back onto it’s feet and takes off for the brush.

“There goes your big, scaryrat, Lauri.”

In an effort to redeem myself, I restock the wood pile with remarkable speed while Ashlyn tidies up inside. Beads of sweat cool on my brow, and my flannel clings to my lower back. Each strike of my axe echoes around the forest, a pileated woodpecker joining the rhythm, and grey wood smoke puffs lazily from the stovepipe. As twilight approaches, I call it a day, stacking one last log on the pile and leaning on the polished hickory handle of the axe to admire my handiwork.

“Okay, Paul Bunyan, dinner’s ready!” Ashlyn calls from the porch.

“Yes, dear,” I joke.

Is there anything more domestic and charming than this? A man chopping wood while the woman cooks over an actual fire? And I thought we’d been playing house before. Ashlyn in her leggings and red, fuzzy sweater has me thinking about another type of wood. I get my ass in the cabin and latch the door for the night.

The fire crackles, and the smell of onions and chicken permeate the air. A simple kitchen with knotty wood cabinets and butcher block counters make up one corner of the cabin. Mismatched furniture, mostly plaid, fills the rest of the space. Throw pillows of all shapes and sizes cover overstuffed couches and chairs. A large propane tank and generator provides electricity and hot water for the cabin which makes the rustic retreat damn cushy, if you ask me. Chris undersold the place.

“How’d you make this so fast?” I accept a steaming bowl from Ashlyn’s hands.

“I made homemade chicken soup yesterday and reheated it.”

“Clever. I’d have brought hotdogs.” I blow on my spoon before slurping down the salty broth. I groan in appreciation, the hot liquid warming me.

She chuckles. “That’s what we’re having for lunch tomorrow.”

Side by side on the plaid sofa, we devour our meal. Ashlyn’s supper hit the spot so well I had two servings of soup and two glasses of chardonnay with it. I hope my dessert is going to be the snow bunny that kicked off her slippers and has her feet tucked beneath my thighs.

“Isaac!” Ashlyn straightens her spine.

“What’s wrong?” I grasp her leg while visions of rodents fill my head.

Where the hell was the broom?

“It’s snowing.” She points out the largest window. Sure enough, large flakes drift past and accumulate on the narrow pane.

“So it is.”

“Comfy couches and fires are kind of our thing, don’t you think?” She relaxes, sighing as she snuggles against my ribs.

“I do.” I lay my right arm over her shoulders, drawing her tighter to my side. Any closer and she’ll be in my lap.

Not a bad idea.

I scoop her up and settle her sideways onto my thighs.

“Hello, there...” She loops her arms behind my neck, her eyes settling somewhere near my mouth.

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