Page 8 of The Maverick of the Mountain
I pull down my mask and scrub my face, perching myself on the side of my workbench. I close my eyes, but all I see is her,sitting there by the window as she neglects her food and glances at the mountains. They’re beautiful. Thought they were the most stunning natural beauty in the world until I saw her.
I clear my throat, opening my eyes as the rain pounds against my workshop. I thought throwing myself into this project would help, but it’s not. Can’t concentrate. Cant—wait.
“Hank?”
I glance around, but I don’t see him. I thought it had been too quiet. My partner in crime/project manager is missing.
He better not be raiding my fridge. Not again. I don’t know how he did it, but one day I found him passed out in front of the refrigerator, half-eaten boxes of food scattered all around him. I tried rousing him, but the little guy wouldn’t budge. Kept groaning and moaning but refused to move. Not that he could with a belly that nearly tripled in size.
I sigh, considering checking on him, but decide not to. My current project needs more of my attention if I plan on finishing before Dora’s birthday.
I replace my mask, rev my chainsaw, and get to work. Sawdust flies in every direction as I carve a little more off the top. Stepping back, I consider a new change on the fly. That chunk of wood is looking a lot like a bow. Bet Dora would like her ballerina bear to have a bow, so I leave it be and make a mental note to chisel it out later.
I don’t trust myself with the chainsaw right now. It likely would lose an ear if I tried, and I’d have a difficult time explaining to Dora what happened.
Did it get into a fight?
Didn’t eat its vegetables. Ear fell right off because of it. So make sure you eat your vegetables.
I snort. Ryder would kill me if he found out I’d told her that. I wouldn’t, although I feel it’s my duty as an uncle to spread a little chaos now and then. And of course, allow Dora to let loosea little. Usually, that means an ice cream cone at Sweet Peaks or an extra episode of whatever cartoon she wants to watch.
I let the chainsaw idle for a moment as I step back and inspect the bear. It’s rough and chunky, but it’ll come together. Most projects do, even though I never think that until they’re finally done.
I check my watch. It’s getting late, and I’d better check in on Hank. He might be strolling the forest, sleeping in the cabin, or raiding my refrigerator. If it’s the latter, I’m likely too late. Once that boy starts, there’s no stopping him, shoveling food into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in years.
I’m about to set my chainsaw down when I hear something. A scream. It’s unmistakable—unbelievable given how far I am up the mountain. No one should be here, especially not in this storm.
I take off toward it, tearing open the door and raising my arm in an attempt to block out the rain and see if I can find the person. And there she is—a dark shape hobbles out of my cabin, slowly moving down the front steps.
“What the…”
I’m not sure why someone would break into my cabin. I’m even more confused why they’d be scre—Hank.Son of a gun. That guy’s going to get me in trouble one day. Ever since I rescued him as a kit and nursed him back to health, he’s been attached to me. Overprotective, really. He doesn’t like anyone except me and Dora. He tried to chase Ryder out the first time he saw him. Picked him up by the tail and let him shadow box the air until he tired himself out. He pointedly ignores him now.
It’s too dark for me to see anything. I can only make out her dark outline as she moves slowly through the open field in front of my cabin. But then lightning strikes, and I see her.Her—the woman from earlier, no doubt about it. I’d recognize those eyes. Those lips. Those—fuuuuuuck.
Now I’m even more confused. I know I’m not the best looking guy in the world, but this is the first time someone screamed at the sight of—shit. Chainsaw. Respirator. That poor woman must think...
Jesus, this is not the first impression I wanted to make.
“STAY BACK! I have mace.”
Before I have the chance to warn her, she sprays the air as a strong gust of wind blows through.
“Ahfuckughlegh!”she screams.
I drop my chainsaw and rip off my respirator and walk towards her. It’s taking everything inside me not to run, but I know she’s already scared. If she sees me trucking after her, I’m not sure what she’ll do. Best to go slow right now, not that I need to go very fast to catch up to her. She’s hobbling into the forest, moving as quickly and dextrously as a newborn baby deer, so I decide to make a quick detour and check out what the hell Hank did to spook her.
“Son of a…”
It looks like someone used my damn cabin as a Slip ’N Slide. There’s water and mud all over the floor. Furniture is overturned. But the most egregious sin of all is Hank chowing down on my damn cake.
“Hank! Get. Over here.”
I stomp toward him, damn near slipping myself, but I recover, grabbing hold of my dining room table. Hank, on the other hand, hasn’t budged, tiny claws digging into the slice of cake I’d saved from earlier today and shoving it into his maw. I close the gap and grab him by the scruff, but he growls, tightening his grip around the plate as I carry him out of the kitchen.
“You’re sleeping outside if you don’t give this plate up.”
He chitters in defiance for a moment, but loosens his grip enough that I can slip it out of his tiny but vicelike grasp and toss it into the sink.
