Page 53 of No More Billionaires

We gingerly shuffled across the icy yard to the front porch and went inside together. He plopped the bags on the counter and headed directly for the wood stove, extending his reddened hands over it.

“Man, it feels good in here. I take back everything I’ve ever said about the wimpy Southern winters. This storm gives New York some competition.”

He glanced up from his fingers to my face, wearing a grin of pleasure. “So you were worried about me, huh?”

Now I regretted my overly-emotional welcome. “Well, I just—the ice and the ATV—rollovers, you know.”

Wanting to escape his probing eyes, I crossed the room to check out the bags. “Where on earth did you go shopping?”

“One of those gas stations on the highway was open—still no power, but I guess they realized they could make a buck gouging stranded motorists.”

He walked over to stand beside me and reached into a bag, drawing out its contents one item at a time as if he were a magician reaching into a black top hat.

“Behold—the world’s most expensive jar of peanut butter. And that’s not all. Check it out—crackers, corn chips, marshmallows, and… toilet paper.”

I laughed. “Sounds delicious. What’s in here?” I opened the other bag. “Oh my God—you found Diet Dr. Pepper? It’s my favorite.”

“I know,” he said, wearing a satisfied grin. “You chain-drink it at work. I was afraid you might soon go into D-T’s, so I outbid a rather large and frightening truck driver for the last bottle. Enjoy.”

“You… bid on it?”

“I know, I know—you’re going to accuse me of trying to buy my way through life again, but when it comes to stranded travelers and mercenary gas station owners…”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and held it up. “…money talks, and nice guys walk away with no toilet paper. Or Diet Dr. Pepper.”

I laughed. “Believe me—I’m not complaining.”

“Don’t forget the pièce de résistance.” Larson gestured toward the bag.

I pulled out the one remaining item—a rather large box… of wine.

“Wow. I haven’t had box wine since… since at least sophomore year of college. I don’t think I even want to know how much you had to pay for this little treasure.”

“It was the finest vintage the establishment had to offer. I got some dirty looks while I was walking out the door with it. I literally looped around and made sure no one was following me before coming back here—thought someone might mug me for it. Sorry I was gone so long. I didn’t mean to worry you. After seeing the condition of the highway, I just thought it was a good idea to gather whatever supplies I could find. Honestly there wasn’t much left on the shelves.”

“You did great. How’s Ruby?”

“Just fine. She and her hellhounds have plenty of wood and non-perishable food, and they’re all tucked away in their snug, creepy dollhouse—be thankful you didn’t see it in the daylight, by the way. She’s acting like it’s just another day. I think the only thing bothering Ruby is missing her game shows and her WNN. In that order.”

I pulled a fry pan from the lower cabinet. “Okay then. Well, I’m about to make your dreams come true and pop open that can of Spam. Shall we enjoy it with some delicious corn chips and Diet Dr.? Or are you ready to hit the hard stuff? Itisafternoon.”

“Well, I’m tempted, but we should save something for later—we need something to look forward to tonight, right?”

Larson was referring to the boxed wine and perhaps toasted marshmallows, but an entirely different sort of image popped into my head without my consent or approval—the two of us up in the dark loft, wrapped in the warm quilt, together.

I blinked and shook my head, trying to dislodge the picture, but it only grew clearer, more enticing. I wasn’t looking forward to getting back in bed with him tonight.

Was I?

Why, why, why had I come on this stupid work trip? If I’d just said no, I’d be safe and warm at home with my family right now.

Oh. That actually didn’t sound so appealing.

I could just see Mom having a fit over what I was about to ingest for lunch. Her forehead might actually have wrinkled.

And poor Daddy—he’d be off to the side, watching our querulous exchange with worried eyes, wondering if he should intervene and how severe his penalty would be if he did. In comparison, Larson was actually a relaxing person to be around.

I glanced up from my Spam-slicing duties to see him putting away the meager groceries in an upper cabinet.

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