Page 9 of Snowbound Mountain Man

Juniper

I'm in the middle of trying to figure out how I'm going to convince someone to come take all of this furniture out of here in the middle of dead winter when my phone rattles against one of the shelves belonging to a bookcase full of more things I need to go through. I'd thrown some medical records on there the day before, and had yet to face them properly.

Surprised I can get enough signal for anyone to contact me; it's the second or third vibration that makes me realize I'm getting a call.

Jumping up before I lose my chance at talking to another soul who isn't the man who's keeping most of my attention, I catch the familiar Sinfully Sweet caller ID before I swipe to answer. Immediately hearing the sound of pans clashing against metal tabletops, my chest swells.

"Hello?" Alena's familiar voice wavers on the other end of the call, and without thinking, I'm moving throughout the home as she greets me again, this time a little clearer.

"Please tell me you aren't calling me because chaos has broken out..." Reaching the kitchen now, I take a seat at the bare table.

My second-in-command lets out the same laugh that I now realize I miss terribly before she scoffs. "Business is thriving, thank you. Even through our little winter blues, the building is still standing. No, actually, I've been trying to get a hold of you for days. Wanted to make sure you hadn't driven off the edge."

"I'm fine. Service just sucks up here." Telling her what we already both know, I play with a loose string on my shirt as a sigh slips out. "I'll be back before you know it."

I miss my bakery and my staff. Only four days have passed since I'd left behind my life, and I'm starting to feel more than homesick. There's still so much to be done here, and this weather isn't doing me any favors.

Pushing the curtains aside to the window next to me, I watch more fat white flakes fall. Even through the growing darkness, it's easy to see we'll be getting another few inches.

How do people seriously survive up here?

"Are you doing alright? You sound troubled. How's the cabin?" As if saving up a list of questions to ask once she could reach me, she hits me with them all at once.

Alena isn't only my assistant manager; she's also my best friend. The one person I'd drowned two entire bottles of wine with while complaining about what I was going to have to face before coming out here. She got the whole rundown of what kind of childhood I left behind, and even offered to close down shop to support me.

As if we could afford to go that many days, with how slowly orders are coming during the colder season.

Looking around, I grimace at my surroundings. "The cabin could use some TLC. It's livable, though. That's the important part. Oh, and I'm fine. Really, I am. It's not as bad as I thought it would be."

Watching the snow fall, another sigh slips out. It's a bad habit.

"Half of me regrets coming up here in the middle of a snowstorm, though. At this rate, I don't know if I'll be able to leave after a week. For all I know, I'm going to get stuck up here." There's no telling if getting off this mountain is going to be any easier than it was getting on it.

I don't want to be stuck up here, but it's like the mountain wants to keep me trapped.

Doesn't it know I've got nothing besides...

Hunter's face comes to mind, and my skin warms despite the cool air lingering in the room. Foolishly thinking he's anything but someone who used to be tied to this place in a way will only make leaving this place hard.

I’m supposed to book it the moment I can dump this cabin on someone who’ll appreciate its rustic charm a hell of a lot more than I do.

"Like I told you before. Treat this like a vacation," Alena reminds me, her voice growing static again. "If you are drowning in snow, then build a snowman. Have fun. Don't get caught in the moment."

A snowman? That makes me laugh, and she hums in approval at the sound. It feels good to laugh. I can't imagine going out and having fun like I'm a kid again. Hell, I don't think I even packed the appropriate kind of clothes to survive outside for more than ten minutes. I'd freeze to death if I tried.

"We’ll have to see," I murmur, closing my eyes and taking a moment to relax. Nowadays it feels like I have to remind myself how to do it.

Alena is nice enough to attempt to catch me up on business matters, and it's nice to think about cupcakes and frosting for as long as it lasts, but hardly to my surprise, our call ends as soon as the service gives way.

Cursing under my breath, I hear the howl of wind outside answering back. I shouldn't be too surprised, but at least she knows I'm alive out here.

Giving myself a few more minutes of peace, I eventually have to pull myself back to the living room and continue where I left off. For a man who kept to himself, my father has far too many belongings.

I almost want to call him a hoarder, but most of the stuff I pack away holds some kind of value. Maybe not monetary, but sentimental.

Much to my surprise, I come across a couple of photo albums. I recognize one of them; it's full of pictures of familiar faces from my childhood. Those photos didn't capture the reality of what was going on behind closed doors, but the still images could make you believe happiness was there. Some of the memories were good ones, and I can still vaguely remember them.

The other album, one I'm not familiar with, radiates real warmth inside. Many of the pictures don't show any subjects; they simply capture nature. Did Gregory spend his time taking photos up here on the mountain?