Cabin Fever (9 page)

He points to the fireplace. “That’s not going to burn.”

I cock one hip, pissed and still confused. “So who are you again?”

“I’m Jeremy. And you are …?”

The name rings a bell.
Jeremy, Jeremy, where did I hear that name before?

He answers my unspoken thoughts before I have a chance to grill him with any more questions. “Jeremy Oliver. James’s and Jana’s brother.” He pauses before delivering his last shot. “The owner of this cabin.”

The blood drains from my face. All my plans, all my hopes, all the things I dreamed I could get done here fall away and leave me bare. I have nothing and nowhere to go. Back to square one. Again.

For a few seconds I feel helpless and sad and ready to fold in on myself. Crying until I either vomit or fall asleep, that’s plan A. Then I look at his scruffy face, his crappy clothes that haven’t been washed in way too long, and his arrogant attitude written all over his stupid face, and I decide:
No
. This is not how this is going to go down. I am not leaving this cabin until I’ve painted something, that’s all there is to it. It’s not like a have a choice. It’s paint or die and I’m not ready to give up yet. I lift my chin and let him have it.

“Well, as far as
I
know, you’re only one-third owner of this cabin, and the other two-thirds said I could stay here as long as I like, so sorry, Charlie, but you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.”

He laughs a few seconds and then his jaw goes off to the side. “You’re not kidding.”

I fold my arms, trying to hide the fact that I’m shaking. “No, I’m not, actually. I’m dead serious.”

He gestures to the front windows. “Have you been outside lately? There’s four feet of snow out there right now. I’m not going anywhere. I barely made it up here as it is.”

I shrug. “You can leave in the morning.”

“Not likely. Roads won’t be clear for days.”

“Oh, you’re not staying here for days.” I laugh at that. “No way, José. I have work to do.”

“Work?” He looks around, his gaze landing on my laptop. “What? You write books or something?”

“No, I paint.” I can’t keep looking at him, so my gaze roams around the room instead. I don’t know why, but he’s getting bigger and bigger the more I stare at him. His shoulders are taking up half the kitchen.

“What do you paint? Walls? They hire you to paint in here?”

I glare at him. As if. “No, I don’t paint
walls
, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why is that ridiculous? You think house painters are ridiculous?”

“No, that’s not what I said.” Now I feel guilty.

“Sounded to me like that’s what you said.”

“Shut up.” No, it’s not the cleverest comeback in the world, but he has me too flustered to think of anything better.

“Shut up?” He laughs. “Did you seriously just tell me to shut up?”

“Yeah, I did, but it doesn’t sound like you understand what that means.”

“Oh, I know what it means, but anyone who thinks they’re going to get me to stop talking by telling me to shut up is crazy.”

This has to be the dumbest argument I’ve ever had in my life. I look back at him and shake my head slowly, hoping to shame him into silence. “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, exactly. Unbelievable is a woman thinking she can come into my home and just unpack her life and start living it here without my permission.”

“No, actually, unbelievable is a guy who disappears off the face of the earth and then has the gall to be upset when his worried siblings rent out a house to a friend in need. That’s what’s unbelievable.”

He stares at me for so long and so intensely, I have to look away again.
Dammit
. That’s two points for him and none for me. No more wine for me ever. At least not while this guy is around.

“A friend in need, huh? What are you so needy for? Boyfriend break up with you?” His mocking tone is impossible to miss.

“Go to hell.” I storm off to the bathroom, unable to hold in my anger or my pee any longer. I’m liable to say something even worse if I stay for another second in that room with him.

Jaws follows me in, and I close the door behind us. “That guy’s an asshole,” I say to my little friend as I peel several layers of clothing off so I can get to my jeans and pull them down.

He lies on the floor and stares at me.

“Look away, Jaws. You shouldn’t stare at women when they’re about to drop their drawers.”

He glances to the side, and I have to smile at it. I’m so taming this vicious beast. Too bad the beast on the other side of the door isn’t tameable. He’s probably the one who crapped up this place with all those bottles.

A tapping at the door has me cutting off in mid-stream.

“What?!” I yell, louder than I mean to. How embarrassing! He’s listening to me go to the bathroom!

“Uh, sorry to bother you. I just … you know … wanted to apologize.”

I stare at the ceiling contemplating my horrible life. I’m having a conversation with a horribly scruffy and yet somehow still cute guy with my pants around my ankles on the toilet, while a small dog who pretends he hates me smells the entire bathroom up and makes it stink like old fish. Jeremy’s going to think it’s me doing it.

“Apologize for what?” I say.

“For saying that thing about you breaking up with someone. That wasn’t nice.”

Jaws tilts his head at me and I know exactly how he feels. Is this some kind of trap, or what?

“You’re forgiven. I think.”

“I’m still not leaving, though.”

I roll my eyes.
Not a trap. Just an idiot.

“Could you please go away. I’m trying to take care of business in here.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Good. Finally.”

Jaws lies back down while I finish up and take a few minutes to brush and floss my teeth and then put all my layers back on. Not that I care what this butthead thinks about my breath. He’ll never get close enough to me to smell this minty freshness, the jerk. Trying to kick me out of the cabin where I’m going to do great things? Figure out my shit and get on with my life? Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen. I’m not going anywhere.
He
is.

Chapter Thirteen

WHEN I EMERGE FROM THE bathroom, I find Jeremy sitting on the couch, staring out into space. Jaws is at my heels when I stop and fold my arms over my chest just in front of our intruder.

“Okay, listen … I know it’s cold out and there’s a lot of snow, but if you got in, you can get out. So you can sleep here tonight, but in the morning, you have to leave.” I’m proud of how confident I sound.

His smile is kind of sad and doesn’t make it to his eyes. “You really think you’re staying here, huh?”

“Yes, I really do.” My arms fall to my sides as I start to lose my cool, confident feeling. Desperation is sneaking into my brain, bringing fear with it.
Where will I go if not here? What will I do?
I have no one left to beg from. “I was given this place fair and square. Majority rules. Two siblings against one. I stay, you go.”

He’s still not looking at me. “I’m no lawyer, but I’m pretty sure that an owner’s rights trump a squatter’s rights.”

“I’m not a squatter!” My arms fly out to the sides. “Look around you, Bud! I’m the only one
not
living in here like a squatter!”

He finally looks up at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you live like a skid row
bum
. I cleaned more than fifty beer bottles out of here today. Maybe a hundred. What are you, some kind of alcoholic?”

His gaze drops back down to the table and he stares and stares at it. His answer only comes just as I’m about to yell at him again. “No, I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Yeah, right. Because non-alcoholics drink beer until every single surface in their house is covered in bottles and forget to wash their clothes and hair for weeks on end.” A very unladylike snort escapes me.

His face morphs into a frown and his eyes lose that faraway look. He lifts his gaze to meet mine. Then he smiles. “You just admitted this is my house.”

I play back my last words in my head and end up wanting to strangle myself. “It’s just a loose term. The point was … the point
is
, that you’re a drunk, and I’m not going to share this space with someone like that. I cannot create in the midst of chaos.” I cross my arms over my chest again, at this point just trying to stay warm. Standing up here in the middle of this refrigerator of a room is stealing all my body heat.

He sighs long and loud. “All right, I hear what you’re saying. I’m not going to give you any trouble.” He looks up at me, his expression sad. “I’ll leave as soon as I can, I promise. I just need to wait until the snow melts a little or the plows come through. Fair?”

I nod, proud that I stuck to my guns and stood up for myself. I’m a powerful woman, and he obviously can sense that about me. Already this new adventure is making me awesome. Most of the panic that had started to rise up has been quelled, and my ears have stopped ringing. I can afford to be gracious now.

“That’s fine. That’s fair. Hopefully the plows will be here first thing in the morning.”

“Yep.” He nods. Maybe too much.

“Why are you doing that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Doing what?” He smiles a little, still nodding.

“Nodding. Why are you being so agreeable all of a sudden?”

He laughs. “First you’re mad at me because I’m disagreeing, and now you’re mad because I’m agreeing with you?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I consider how ridiculous that sounds. “Maybe.”

“There any more beers left?” he asks, looking over toward the kitchen. “I didn’t see any in the fridge.”

“No, there are no more beers left. And you can’t drink my wine, either.”

He shifts his weight and lies back on the couch, arranging the blanket at his legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep. If there aren’t any more beers, what else is there to do?”

“You could start a fire.” I gesture at the fireplace, hope springing up in my heart.

His eyes close. “Not with those logs I can’t.”

“Are you telling me I bought bad logs?” I’m beginning to hate myself for being so stupid. They must have seen me coming from a mile away. Maybe that girl and Ben Carver are running a wood-selling racket, scamming tourists left and right. It’s the perfect crime; their victims freeze to death before they can come after them for retribution.

“No, you just didn’t split ‘em,” Jeremy says, interrupting my thoughts.

I look over at the big tree trunk parts I put in the fireplace earlier and imagine them split into pieces. A big lightbulb goes on in my brain as I remember the fires I’ve seen in the past. Of course they had split logs in them. How stupid can I be?

Quite stupid, apparently.

“Oh. Yeah. That would have been better,” I admit.

“I’ll split a few for us tomorrow morning.”

“But you’re leaving in the morning.

“Eventually. But I can split some wood before I go.”

I nod, watching him settle deeper into the cushions. Jaws stepping on the top of my foot wakes me up to our next problem.

“You can’t sleep there,” I say.

“Why not?” He doesn’t even open his eyes. Instead, he folds his arms over his chest and smiles. “Kind of feels like I can.”

“Because, that’s my bed.”

His eyes open but the rest of him stays put. “There’s a bedroom here with beds in it, you know.”

“I know that. I just don’t want to sleep in it.”

“How come?”

I shrug. I’m not going to admit to him that I’m afraid of being that far from the center of the cabin. It makes no sense, but I can’t let him get the upper hand, thinking I have a weak spot.

“It’s too cold,” I say, as my excuse. I’m not even sure that claim is true since I haven’t even gone in there yet, but it sounds reasonable to me.

He uncrosses his arms, sighs, and throws the blanket back off his legs. “Fine. I’ll sleep in there. You take the couch.”

As he walks past me, I move as far back away from him as I can and hold my breath, not letting it out until he’s at the bedroom door. Earlier I had a whiff of body odor, and normally it would repulse me, but with him, it just makes me feel like he’s been working hard, getting sweaty. Obviously the wine is still working its crazy voodoo on me when I realize that’s turning me on a little.

“I don’t smell that bad,” he grumbles, opening the door. I guess he noticed me flinching.

I could say a lot of things right now in response, but I won’t. It’s better if he just goes his way while I go mine. I take the couch and settle Jaws in next to me. He’s finally given up the growling baloney, which is a good thing, because I’m not in the mood for it at all. I already have enough man-garbage to deal with.

“Do I?” he asks from the darkness of the bedroom. Bed springs squeak.

“Do you what?” I ask, kind of holding my breath after. This feels like flirting, and I don’t want to be flirting with this dummy. He’s leaving tomorrow and I’ll never see him again.

“Do I smell that bad?”

I have a two-second war with myself about how to respond and then the answer flies out of my mouth without any filter.

“Do bears poop in the woods?” I smother my giggle in the blanket.

Chapter Fourteen

WAKING UP IN A CABIN whose temperature has to be near zero is one of the worst things I’ve ever had to do. It’s almost as bad as having to walk over and open the front door to let a dog out and the swirling snow-cold wind in. Jaws bolts for the driveway and disappears into the vast whiteness, hopping like a rabbit to get over the drifts.

I shut the door and lock it behind him. “Fine. Leave. See if I care.” I can’t keep the sadness from my voice. I thought Jaws and I had bonded over my horrible wine-breath, but I guess not. Fuzzy little punk. He kept my feet warm all night, though. I probably shouldn’t complain about our short-lived relationship.

I’m in the kitchen, but my eyes keep darting over to the bedroom. The door is half open, but I can’t see him.
Jeremy
. He slept here last night, and as far as I know, he hasn’t left yet. Surely Jaws would have barked if he’d heard him moving around, right?

Just in case he is still here, I make enough eggs and bacon for two. He’ll need extra calories to get through the snow to his car, so I add some toast to his plate. Just as I’m finishing up with the buttering part, the bedroom door opens and Jeremy comes out. He stops and stares at me in the kitchen.