Page 23 of Perfect Cowboy

Like a cheating ex-fiancé who traded me in for a younger model when I’m not even thirty yet, robbing me blind in the process.

Like a career where I had to work brutally long hours for a total psychopath and stress became a way of life.

Like being forced to decide between my wellbeing and having access to much needed health insurance.

Now I have none of those things except the stress. I kept that part.

Reflecting on it while I sweep and then mop the floors using bottled water, I wasn’t actually in love with my ex for a long time. But I was in love with the idea of what I thought we were building together.

I was the only person committed to the future, though, and he was busy running around behind my back.

Pausing at the window, I take a moment to look outside. There isn’t much to see except blowing snow, and there are definitely no headlights cutting through the storm.

You’d have to be crazy to drive right now, and I just barely made it here before the weather turned completely treacherous.

A shiver of unease runs through me because I’m really and truly alone without any hope of getting help if the situation turns to shit.

What if I get hurt? I don’t think anyone would rush to rescue me anyway, but the storm is making sure that they can’t, even if they wanted to try.

An even scarier prospect is someone who truly hates me, someone like Mark or Mr. McGraw, showing up here for a confrontation – or worse.

It wouldn’t take a lot of detective work to realize my SUV is no longer in the hotel parking lot and that there’s only one place around here I could reasonably go.

This remote, isolated cabin.

But I’m being ridiculous. No one is going to come here. I’ve definitely been watching too many Hollywood blockbusters.

If anything bad happens, it will be the storm or wildlife that takes me out. Neither are great prospects, but I guess both are better than being ambushed by men who want me to repay a debt that I don’t actually owe.

There are guns in the cabin, but I never learned how to shoot one. Surely, I could figure it out if the circumstances required it though.

But nothing is going to happen. I’ll spend the rest of the night unpacking my stuff, finishing cleaning, cooking a simple dinner, and then reading by the woodstove.

There’s nothing scary about being here. Nature is peaceful, something to be respected but not feared. There are just too many horror movie plots about women being chased through the woods by masked men with chainsaws.

But those are movies. Not real life.

It’s getting dark outside, and I’m really and truly freaking myself out. I shiver, both from irrational fear and the chill in the air.

Wait.

It shouldnotbe cold in here.

Apparently, I forgot to tend to the fire while I was running around doing chores. Note to my future self that fires aren’t “set it and forget it,” at least, not until they’re roaring.

I dash to the woodstove and try every trick in the book to get it going, but it’s no use. I’m going to need more kindling and to build the fire more sustainably.

Dammit.

And there’s no furnace for backup either.

It suddenly feels urgently important that I have an available and reliable source of communication, just in case.

My phone is nearly dead, so I grab a charger out of the suitcase like a lifeline. Then I head over to the outlet by the couch to plug it in, hoping that mice haven’t chewed all the wires.

That would just be one more problem that I can’t solve.

But luck is finally coming to visit me. The blessed charging icon pops onto the screen and I almost cheer with relief.

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