Page 146 of Mountain Grump
I glance back down, and he tears open a tiny packet and takes out what I’m guessing is a sanitizing wipe.
He meticulously cleans each of his fingers before setting the little wipe down on the blanket and picking up a tube of ointment.
He meets my eyes. “I’ll try to be gentle. But if it hurts, tell me.”
I let him see my smile. “How do you make everything sound so sexual?”
His brows furrow. But then I can tell he’s replaying his words in a sexual setting because he shakes his head. “You’re a dirty girl, Matilda.”
My smile turns into a grin. “It’s a newly acquired condition.”
He huffs, then lowers his attention back to my feet.
“Do animals break in?” It feels like a silly question, but I don’t know what else to call it.
“Rodents are the most likely.”
I pull a face. “Oh.”
“There’s no evidence of such a break-in, so fret not.” Ethan is practically whispering as heoh-so-gentlysmooths his fingertipover the top of my toes. “Mountain lions mostly leave structures alone. And bears have trouble with the round doorknobs.”
“Huh. The more you know.” I take in the rest of the interior of the cabin as Ethan continues to meticulously apply ointment to each and every spot he can find.
The mattress below me isn’t horrible. There are no pillows, but he said something about making the bed. So I have a feeling one of those cabinets is hiding some.
A large bucket is in the front corner of the cabin, across from the head of the bed, with two axes, a hand saw, a long clipper thing that I think is meant for branches, and a broom sticking out of it. Next to that is a rack with a few pieces of firewood on it. But other than that, there’s really not much in here.
The windows are a decent size. There are no curtains. But I guess if there’s no one around, then you don’t really need them.
I push away the thought of a random person being out here. Because coming across a person in this setting would be way more terrifying than any wild animal.
Then I remember Ethan’s gun and decide I’m in good hands.
Hands that are still tending to me.
I look down at the man. “I figured there’d be more beds.”
“Hmm?” Ethan looks up, then around the mostly bare cabin. “There used to be bunk beds. But I dismantled them when it was clear it would just be me coming out here.” He focuses his gaze on mine. “This particular situation is one I didn’t plan for.”
“Wish you still had those bunks?” I tease him.
He shakes his head, expression staying serious.
My cheeks heat, and he looks back at my feet.
I stay silent as he applies bandages over each spot of ointment. And I continue to stay silent as he lifts my feet and slides off the bed.
I watch as he opens another cabinet, takes out another bin, and pulls out a pair of thick socks.
They’re way too big. But they’re soft. And I know they’ll help keep my Band-Aids in place while I sleep.
I let Ethan help me up. And I let him help me slip my feet into a pair of really old-looking tennis shoes that came out of another bin.
They’re gigantic, but Ethan ties the laces so they’ll stay on. Then he walks me out the door and across the few yards to the outhouse.
“Here.” He hands me the solar-powered lantern he pulled from another cabinet.
He checked it when we were still in the cabin. The glow was dim but still better than the thin band of light from the flashlight.
