Page 52 of Devil's Due

“In the circumstances, a good MC romance series would be good.” Stevie nudges me. “I could get an idea of what I can expect from you and your brothers.”

“Fiction, woman, those authors have no fuckin’ idea, ‘cept for the handsome part. We’re all handsome as fuck. Except for Beef that is.”

I growl deep down in my throat as I glare at Sparky. And what’s he got to talk about? Yeah, he’s okay, a bit rough around the edges, but handsome? Not my type.

“We’re finished.” Dan and Wills reappear. “We’ll be back on Saturday to empty the porta potty, and we’ll bring more water. Any particular food you want? We’ve stocked up with the basics.”

While Stevie gives them a short list including the brand of cereal she likes, I muse it’s a shame the hunting season hasn’t started just yet. I could see myself being the man and shooting a bow and arrow to bag some fresh meat.

With the excuse they’re just showing me where it is, Sparky and Cad grab themselves beers, and drink them fast. Then, they’re gone.

As the sound of the engines fades into the distance, quiet, apart from the sounds of nature outside, descends. We’re alone. Two virtual strangers who are going to be living together for the foreseeable future. The strangeness of it hits me with a force I didn’t expect. I can’t remember a time when I’ve had no brothers around. Despite the woman standing close, loneliness floods through me.

Stevie clears her throat. “Um, could you show me around, Beef?”

Her request gives me something to do, something to focus on. It’s no problem, I want to explore too. Get to know where everything is. Make sure I can reach the hidden weapons when I need to and where the spare ammunition is kept.

The cabin has a main living area, its focal point a huge fireplace with a log-burning stove. Off to the side is a kitchen area, sink, fridge, cupboards and a pantry. Off that is a small bathroom with a rudimentary shower and sink. There’s a double bed curtained off to the opposite side of the living area, and steep rickety stairs leading up to the loft which has been divided into two rooms, each with a queen-sized bed. All beds have been made up, so we have a choice.

Even though it was warm, verging on hot in Pueblo, though nothing like the temperatures I’ve been used to back home, up here in the mountains it’s pleasantly cool. The prospects have opened the windows presumably to air the place, and I’m pleased to see screens have been installed to keep out the worst of the bugs. A nice breeze is blowing through. I make a note to close them later, when the sun goes down. I expect it will grow chilly.

Stevie’s counted the stairs and is feeling her way around the room. She’d asked me to place her hand on the furniture, and there’s a little frown on her face that suggests she’s mapping it out in her head.

I’m trying to work out sleeping arrangements. It must be easier for her to sleep downstairs, but then that’s my place, where I can be the first obstacle anyone would face if they came to the cabin.

“I like this room.”

“You gonna be okay with the stairs?” I’m thinking about her needing to use the outhouse in the night.

“I’ll be fine. Might take me a short while to get my bearings, but I’ve got this, Beef.”

Her confidence continues to surprise me. I wonder whether it helps that she lost her sight gradually, rather than suddenly, or whether she’d have been the same if she was born that way. I close my eyes, trying to experience the world as she knows it. Immediately I feel unsafe, and don’t want to move in case I forget where the stairs are and fall down them.

She, though, admittedly with her hand to the wall, starts walking purposefully to the staircase, and quickly is back on the ground floor. But then, she stops, and more hesitantly moves across the open space making her way back to the couch. She’s moving slowly, and she finds it when her foot touches it.

Having been watching her carefully, I have an idea. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Leaving her to think I’m taking a piss or whatever, I step out the front door. I’d seen something on the way in as I’d been examining our surroundings, getting to know the lay of the land. There, along with the pile of chopped wood, are some sticks. Not sure why they’re here, ready to be made into kindling, perhaps? They’re the type used to prop up plants. I think it might do the job. I pick up a likely one and with my knife, strip anything sharp from it. Soon I have a workable cane.

Taking it back inside, I raise her hand and pass it to her. “A stick. It’s not white, but will it help?”

“Jeez, the colour doesn’t matter. But yeah, this is great, Beef.” She stands, and with her makeshift cane waving back and forth in front of her, now has a more purposeful stride as she walks in the direction of the kitchen. “You hungry, Beef?”

Always.

I follow her, making an assessment of our options. A wood-burning stove is not something you can switch on and off, and it will take a while to warm. But opening the fridge I see a couple of steaks and had noticed a grill outside.

“Steaks? I’ll cook them. There are the makings of a salad here.”

“That will do. I’ll make the salad, you go do your man thing.” She starts opening drawers and feeling around for what’s there.

When I first see her with a sharp knife attacking the lettuce I’m worried, but then realise she’s been fending for herself a long time and knows exactly what to do. There’s actually something sexy in the ways she’s so competent, so self-sufficient. When I offer to help, she shoos me away.

We work well together, with me outside cooking and her doing the rest of the stuff. It’s not long before the meat’s done, and the trimmings prepared. We sit on the couch to eat, with plates propped on our knees.

It’s easy, conversation flows naturally. She seems to be relaxed so I take my chance.

“You going to tell me why you’re in hiding?” I ask, swallowing a mouthful of steak, which I swear always tastes better when it’s been cooked outdoors.

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