Page 17 of Snowbound

I need to get out of here, but first I want to brush my teeth.

Fortunately, Gabe has a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, so I head to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and steel myself for another day with the most difficult man I’ve ever met.

At least the most difficult man I’ve ever met in my personal life, anyway. He’s got nothing on some of the clients I’ve coped with.

Maybe that’s cruel. I don’t think Gabe’s difficult, not really. He’s just insular. He’s hard to get through to. On the surface, he doesn’t look caring at all; he certainly doesn’t act it.

But there’s no reason he should. I stole his truck last night. That feels like a fever dream now, but it’s something he’s going to remind me of when I see him. Despite having stolen from him and treated him like his hospitality was nothing, he was kind enough to let me stay anyway.

There’s a good heart in him somewhere; I just don’t think I care about digging it out.

As I brush my teeth, I open my social apps and sigh internally. None of the videos will load, and hardly any posts will come through. I feel like I’ve got negative G’s of internet. Maybe Gabe has Wi-Fi. I’ll have to swallow my pride and ask him.

After all, if I want to salvage my week, I’m going to have to talk to my client. And to do that, I should, at the very least, email her.

I swing open the door to the guest room and blink in surprise when I see my suitcase and duffle sitting outside the room. Did Gabe really go all the way to his shop just to get this for me? He said we could go today, but I kind of expected he would wait for me to make me get it.

He’s the most confusing person I’ve ever met.

All day yesterday, he acted like he hated me, but actions speak louder than words, and every action he’s made has been that of someone kind and generous. I can’t wrap my head around it at all.

I drag my bags into the room and change into my own clothes. It gives me some semblance of normalcy, some way to pretend that everything is as it’s supposed to be.

Bracing myself for a confrontation, I head down to the kitchen. To my surprise Gabe isn’t there.

Yesterday, he told me I could help myself to anything I wanted, but I’m not sure if that system is still in effect. I glance around for a coffee machine and don’t see one, which is a disappointment, but I’m more hungry than I need caffeine.

Gabe doesn’t seem like a breakfast kind of guy, but he must have cereal or something. If not for himself, maybe for… I don’t know. I’d say friends, but I don’t think he has any. His family? His kids?

Tentatively, I open a cupboard, and it creaks loudly. I wince. Then I feel stupid. It’s not like he’s asleep. If he is home, I don’t have to be quiet. But I do feel like a home intruder.

To my relief, I see a box of cornflakes at the back of the cupboard. God knows how old they are, but it’s better than nothing.

I head for the fridge, but the second my fingers wrap around the handle, I hear a gruff voice from behind me. “Don’t open that.”

I spin away from it, holding my hands up. “Sorry. Why not?”

“We had a power cut last night, and it hasn’t been much better this morning. There’s nothing in there except fruit and vegetables, and I’d like to keep them as cold as I can.”

“Sorry,” I say again. I stare at my cereal longingly. “Do you have any milk?”

Gabe makes an expression at me that I can only describe as a glare without the malicious feeling behind it and opens the back door. A cold blast of air rushes into the house and makes me shiver. I shrink into my hoodie, pulling my hands up into my sleeves, and watch as he grabs a glass bottle from the doorstep.

“Here,” he says. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

“Yeah, this is fine.”

“Coffee?”

“Do you have some?”

He fixes me with an even stare and folds his arms. “You might be thinking to yourself,This guy doesn’t have a coffee maker. How in the wide world is he going to get his coffee?Well, Little Miss City, you might have to live without some of your city comforts for now. It’s not what you want. It’s not what I want, either. But I’m used to getting no power around here. I planned for it. It’s part of living in the country, you see. Be prepared for anything. It’s like my dad always used to say, if you prepare for everything, you can never be caught by surprise.”

“Hence, spare toothbrush,” I say, trying to lighten the mood a little. It doesn’t work. He just grunts.

I guess I wasn’t the kind of surprise he was preparing for.

“Do you eat bacon?” he asks suddenly.

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