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“I’ve decided to come back and sleep in the cabin. I know you won’t exactly love having me here, but I don’t really see another option unless there’s another vacant cabin somewhere else.”
I look back out along the trail, giving her my profile. “It’s fine.” I don’t ask where she’s been sleeping. Chances are, I won’t like the answer anyway. “However, I don’t want you staying here on the weekends again.”
It’s not safe for her to stay out here alone, not only from a liability standpoint for the company, but for her own wellbeing.
Still, she bristles at the brusque order, turns around, and heads right back into the cabin only to return a few minutes later with her shoes on and her damp hair thrown up in a ponytail. She brushes past me on the stairs without another word and walks down the trail back to camp.
When I stand and reenter the cabin, I’m met with a heavy scent of her body wash. It’s like the entire place has been steeped in it. On the window sill, propped up and fanned out to dry, sits my paperback. Below it, wildflowers sit in a bucket on the desk.
It suddenly hits me that I’m doing something I’ve never done before: living with a woman.
Of course I’ve had girlfriends stay over at my house in Austin and leave their things behind, a jacket here, an earring there. In my last relationship, we were together a few months. She wanted commitment and promises and a ten-year plan. I wanted nothing of the sort.
Suddenly, the tables are now flipped, and I know how it feels to want someone who seems just out of reach at all times.
Taylor is elusive and wild, a clever little cat. I couldn’t predict her next move if there were a million dollars on the line.
I’m glad she left when she did because otherwise, she’d see me right now, touching the flowers she picked with utter bewilderment, like I’ve never seen flowers before in my entire life. Because, the thing is, deep down, I’m not at all mad that she moved back into the cabin. I’ve wanted her here with me since the beginning. It’s why I had them assign bunkhouses in the first place.After unpacking my clothes and getting prepared for the week ahead, I go on a long run. Taylor’s back in the cabin when I return, sitting up on the top bunk, cursing her phone before launching it halfway across the room. I reach out and catch it before it collides with the wall.
“Bad reception?” I ask with an arched brow.
Her cheeks are flushed with fury from having been caught during her little outburst of anger.
“Yes. This entire cabin is a dead zone—no, this entire camp! Sometimes I’m able to pick up a signal near the mess hall, but even that’s not reliable. How do you get service all the time?”
“Well for one, my cell phone is from this century,” I say, handing hers back. “And I also bought a signal booster. It’s necessary out here in the woods.”
Her eyes widen with approval. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
My phone burns like a beacon across the room. I know what I should do in this moment. She’s obviously trying desperately to get in contact with someone.
She mistakes my hesitation for something it’s not. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask to borrow your phone. I know you don’t trust me, though it’s a little silly. What do you think I’m going to do? Hack into your bank accounts?” She groans and moves to the ladder. “You know what? I’ll just ask one of the guys to borrow—”
My phone hits her pillow and then I turn for the bathroom.
“I’m showering. You have until I’m finished.”
Truth be told, I actually don’t trust Taylor with my phone. Why would I? A month and a half ago, she stole my wallet and all the cash that was inside of it. I’d be a fool to think I could trust her. An absolute fool.
When I’m done showering, she’s still talking on my phone. I hear her laughter, light and carefree through the bathroom door.
“I miss you too,” she says sweetly. My stomach twists into a knot as I brush my teeth hunched over the sink, scowling like the grump she’s turned me into.
After I change into some lounge pants, I walk over and hold out my hand.
Her eyes lock with mine and she keeps talking.
I motion for her to hang up.
She holds up her finger and points to the phone, clearly hoping to continue her conversation.
I reach out, take the phone, and hang up. She can call her boyfriend back later, sometime when I’m not here listening to her flirt with him.
“Ever the gentleman,” she says with a snide glare.
“You’re welcome for allowing you to use my cell phone.”
