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"Are you sure? He went after that raccoon like it was his next meal."
"You want to give them a try?"
"Okay, but if he eats Catsby I won't be happy."
"Let me get him." Jackson patted his leg, and Gunner came right to him and sat.
Amanda returned with her cat, clutching him tightly to her chest. As she placed him on the kitchen counter, Gunner walked over, his nose twitching curiously.
Jackson tensed, ready to intervene, if necessary, but was surprised when Gunner sniffed at the cat without reaction.
The feline, however, was less than thrilled by the attention and hissed in response. The cat lashed out in a flash of claws and fur and sent Gunner scampering back to Jackson's side. He breathed a silent sigh of relief before glancing at Amanda, who scooped up the hissing cat. Catsby clearly had an attitude problem.
"That went well. Nobody needs stitches." She looked at Gunner once more. "When do you want to move in?"
"I can start tomorrow morning."
CHAPTERFIVE
Amanda had never before found herself so out of place as she did in that moment, standing in the middle of a long-abandoned cabin. Her new home was quaint, if not a little run down, but it had a rustic charm that was foreign and intriguing to her city-bred sensibilities. She was used to skyscrapers and the constant hum of traffic, not the whisper of wind through towering pines and the distant hooting of an owl.
When Jackson drove away, she was more alone than ever, but wasn’t that what she sought—the quiet? She wondered about the person who built it and where they had stayed when they arrived. Why had they chosen this location? She couldn’t argue that it was gorgeous, but what brought them here?
A thousand questions were moving in her head, but no answers, and standing there pondering them wouldn’t get her any closer to moving in.
She grabbed the ends of a thick sheet draped over a worn-out armchair. The dust that had settled over the years floated in the waning rays of sunlight that seeped through the cracked window. Catsby, ever curious, jumped onto a chair, his eyes wide with interest. “Well, what do you think?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. “Could this be home?”
He blinked at her as if to say, “I’ll reserve judgment until I’ve thoroughly inspected every nook and cranny.” She chuckled, her anxiety lessening at her cat’s characteristic indifference.
With the furniture now uncovered, she turned her attention to the fireplace. The chill of the night air was already seeping through the gaps in the cabin, wrapping around her like a shroud. She missed the regulated temperature of her city apartment and was painfully aware that her current attire, a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt, wouldn’t stand a chance against a frigid night.
Walking toward the hearth, she tried to recall all the information she had about building a fire. She prodded the flue with her finger, attempting to open it with no luck. She grunted in frustration as she applied more force and managed to budge it. Instead of opening up, it made a loud burping sound, and a cloud of soot came out, covering her like a blanket.
Caught off guard, she stumbled back, hacking and wheezing as the soot invaded her nose and mouth. “Oh, great.” She coughed, wiping at her face only to smear the ash further. She glimpsed herself in the dusty mirror hanging above the fireplace and groaned at the sight of her streaked cheeks.
“Well, this is perfect,” she said to no one in particular, her voice laced with frustration. She looked at Catsby, who was watching her with an air of bemusement from his perch on the armchair. “Don’t sit there looking smug. This is your home too, you know.”
The cat blinked at her, his tail flicking lazily. She sighed, deciding to let the fireplace be for the time being. Her adventure was off to a spectacularly messy start. She looked around and wondered what she had gotten herself into.
She shifted her gaze to the window, where the sun slowly sank into a melding of orange and pink hues. Its fading light illuminated the trees and cast prisms of life over the sleepy wilderness outside. The sight was breathtaking; it forced her to forget all the troubles she’d left behind and gave her hope that a new life was beyond the horizon. With one last ray of sunlight peeking between the pines, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, this little cabin would turn her life around.
With a resigned sigh, Amanda turned away from the window, her gaze landing on the fireplace again. “Well,” she said, addressing the stubborn flue, “you may have won the battle, but you haven’t won the war.”
Catsby let out a soft warble as if in agreement, his green eyes glinting with playfulness that matched Amanda’s newfound determination.
Clapping her hands together, she focused her attention on her surroundings. The cabin was small but homey, filled with old furniture that had a vintage charm. The air carried the scent of pine and dust, a weirdly comforting combination that instilled a sense of calm in her frazzled nerves.
She moved around, re-familiarizing herself with the space. The wooden floorboards protested under her weight, and every so often, a gust of wind would whistle through the cracks in the walls, sending a shiver down her spine.
Before it got too late, she raced outside to bring in the few things she’d brought. Her clothes. Her old typewriter collection—five of her most valued possessions—bedding, food, and cleaning supplies. Anything else she needed she’d buy. A fresh start meant that she had to leave it all behind, and that’s exactly what she did.
Her gaze was drawn to a small, weathered picture frame on the mantelpiece. Picking it up, she looked at a picture of a young girl, her blonde hair tied up in pigtails, grinning as she held up a fish nearly half her size. The inscription on the back read, “Brandy, Summer ‘96.” Amanda’s heart ached for the girl she once knew, her pen pal who had brought her so much joy as a child.
The cabin may have been old and needed some serious TLC, but it was also filled with remnants of a life brimming with laughter and love. It made the place feel less like a cabin and more like a home.
With a sigh, Amanda set the photo down and looked around. She was tired, sooty, and entirely out of her element, but she was here. Here in Aspen Cove, the city girl turned small-town inhabitant. The thought brought a grin to her face, one that both terrified and excited her.
Her mind wandered back to Jackson, the handsome bartender who had somehow become her future roommate. His charming smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the comfort of his presence ... it was all so new and wonderful. She’d banned men from her life, yet a platonic friendship seemed harmless enough. Love—the part that brought pain and complications—was something she'd gladly avoid.
