Page 4 of Hard Wood Daddy

Like, maybe a Sasquatch?

That sign has to be seven feet tall and that figure was a few inches above the top.

Could Bigfoot be real and living here in these woods?

A sudden longing for concrete and rude Uber drivers hits me like a swift uppercut.

Lindsay is still talking as I turn, refocusing on what I assume is my new boss.

“Now, when I say, ‘paying’, you do understand it’s just room and board, but you also won’t be busy all the time. You’ll have one or two classes a day, each an hour and a half long. The rest of the time is yours. I promise you won’t get bored in your free time, though. There is so much to do in the forest. It’s beautiful out here.”

So, it’s a job, but not apayingjob. I’ve got all of one hundred and five dollars in my pocket—my entire savings.

I need money. This Paint Forest thing is not going to last forever, and what do I do when summer modeling season is over? Call my agent?

On the other hand, room and board means I need a lotlessmoney.

I nod to myself, watching the unfamiliar scenery move outside as Frida wiggles in my hands, bumping her tiny head into my chin every few seconds looking for affection. There’s another flash of something in the woods and my stomach knots, but… I can work with this… The modeling isn’tactuallynude, and as long as I don’t get abducted by Sasquatch I’ll survive.

I hope.

A tingle works its way down the indent of my spine.

The Paint Forest Program is up the hill, past a bubbling brook that reminds me of my growing need to take a leak, around a meadow where deer are grazing. I must admit, it’s about the most tranquil place I’ve ever been.

Maybe the outdoors isn’t so bad after all.

Sun breaks through the trees as we come around a big boulder, and then I see it. A cozy collection of wooden buildings. If I had come upon it myself, I would have thought these were just vacation cabins at the edge of a cheery pond.

Not that I ever went on vacation. But I know that people do.

An art class is working off a bunch of little easels, everyone facing an opening in the trees with a view of a beautiful mountain just beyond the little pond that centers the campground. People have trays with pastels in them, and they’re drawing the scenery from various angles.

“Plein air,” explains Lindsay.

“Gesundheit.”

She laughs and pulls the pickup behind the biggest cabin with a crooked, multicolor sign that reads ‘Office’.

Everywhere I look, there are more cute details. Handmade floral curtains in every window. Suncatchers glittering off cabin eaves. Murals on the walls. Painted ceramic pots filled with blossoming flowers.

I got off the bus because I didn’t have any better alternatives, but somehow I stumbled into art heaven.

The cost of admission is getting publicly naked.

I can afford to pay that.

“Is that all you brought?” Lindsay asks, pointing to my backpack with a wistful smile at Frida who is now wiggling in my hands, batting and biting at my thumbs with her tiny paws and deathly sharp baby kitten teeth.

I don’t get a chance to answer her, as a shadow draws my eye out the window. There’s a man approaching out from the tree line.

And holy heck, is he a man.

He must be almost two feet taller than me. He’s like 3X of a normal human male in every way. He’s got shoulders so wide, I think he might tear his shirt’s back open like the Hulk if he folded his arms.

I swear, his arms are thicker around than my waist.

Something feminine inside of me reacts with a sudden quivering.

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