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Top all that off with losing out on the last frozen pizza to the attractive but annoyingly persistent tourist. If she hadn’t stolen my pizza, I might have checked her out, what with the bright blue-gray eyes framed by the long, dark lashes she had the audacity to flutter at me. Also, some pretty decent curves under that tight black sweater. And I might have noticed her nice round peach of an ass as she sidled away with my pizza.
Not that I’d go there —she’s not my type, really— but I can still appreciate a good ass when I see one.
I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the tension that’s been a constant since the last big merger deal came across my desk three months ago. Adding to the stress, my semi-serious girlfriend Kennedy dumped me on Halloween while we were at a mutual friend’s party. Said she wanted to “explore her options,” whatever the hell that means. All I know for certain is I haven’t heard a word from her since, not even a quickHey, how you doing?text, for old time’s sake.
Which is fine. I didn’t think we were a love story for the ages or anything —both of us are entirely too practical for that sort of thing— but a check-inI miss youor something would’ve been a nice stroke for my ego.
“This it, Mr. Pearson?” Dusty, the store clerk, surveys my meager selection of supplies— a few canned goods, a bottle of cabernet, extra batteries, a loaf of bread.
“Unless you have more frozen pizzas hiding around here somewhere, yes.”
“Sorry, I don’t.” Dusty runs his hand over his white beard. “Had a delivery scheduled for today, but they cancelled on account of the weather. What you see is what we’ve got.”
“I figured.” I plunk my black AmEx onto the counter and Dusty takes it, runs the card through before handing it back to me.
“Hope you got some more supplies stocked at your cabin. This storm’s gonna be pretty bad, according to the weather reports I’m hearing.”
I grab my groceries, brushing off his concern. “I do, but I’m not too worried. The news stations make it sound like Snowmageddon every time, it’s how they drive advertising dollars. The last ‘huge storm’ turned out to be less than a dusting of snow. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Dusty chuckles, his weathered cheeks wrinkling up with a smile. “That you will. You better get going, though— it’s starting to get dark.”
I glance outside, the streetlights already glowing yellow against the slate gray sky, even though it’s not much past five p.m.
“You stay safe out there!” Dusty waves me off as I haul the groceries out to my SUV and load them into the trunk next to my suitcase and laptop bag.
A cold blast of wind howls and I pull my jacket tighter around me, the arctic air stinging the exposed skin on the back of my neck.
I can’t wait to be up in my cabin, in front of a roaring fire, sipping a glass of whiskey. I’ll be reading merger documents, but at least I’ll be on my comfortable leather couch as opposed to standing behind my desk at the office.
Firing up the SUV, I blast the heat and drive slowly through the quaint town. Although it’s high season for Spruce Ridge, the inclement weather must have scared a lot of people away because the streets are practically empty, the sidewalks clear. All the shops twinkle with white holiday string lights, but most have flipped their signs to “closed”for the evening, allowing their employees time to prepare for the incoming storm.
Five minutes later, I begin the slow, steep ascent up Spruce Ridge. The road’s narrow, a stray branch here and there brushing against the side of my vehicle. Snow’s plowed to the side and packed into hard, gray slush, but at least the road’s clear. I fiddle with the radio, finding the local weather report.
“Expect severe winds and snow tonight, temperatures dropping to near-record lows. Stay indoors and be prepared for prolonged power outages,” the meteorologist chirps, her voice a dramatic contrast to the dire warning she’s delivering.
Wonderful.I hope the cabin has firewood. I remember seeing some last time I was up here, but that was months ago. Who knows if it’s been used and restocked by the house staff. I can only hope the groundskeeper’s doing his job, keeping the cabin prepared for my arrival.
Darkness engulfs the mountain as I climb higher and higher toward the sky, and now I can only see a few feet in front of me. The high beams pierce the dark veil, but beyond the two strobes of light, visibility is zero. I focus on the road directly ahead of me, inching my way up the familiar path.
Finally, I see the turn to the side road leading to my cabin, and veer to the right. My SUV climbs up the windy road, then crunches the gravel driveway beneath the heavy tires. I cut the ignition, sagging against the seat, peering at the dark log cabin.
I made it.
Exhaling a sigh of relief, I unlock the door and carefully make my way up the wooden steps, pleased to note the stairs have been properly swept and salted, the tall fir trees trimmed.
I unlock the door and flip on the lights, bathing the space in a soft amber glow. Everything’s tidy, exactly as it should be. Satisfied, I head back out to the car to grab the groceries and luggage.
Thirty minutes later, I’m unpacked, groceries are stocked, and I’m sitting in front of a toasty fire with my glass of whiskey.
“Alexa, play my jazz playlist.” Smooth baritone notes float out from the state-of-the-art sound system and I close my eyes, resting my head against the cool leather.
Yes, this is exactly what I need right now.A relaxing week away from the office, time to unplug and reflect on the next stage, my next move.
I’m where I want to be in my career, the top dog. Everyone respects me, fears me, even.
And yes, I’m still single, no kids. But that’s absolutely fine by me. Relationships are overrated, anyway. More headache and trouble than they’re worth.
I like being alone.
