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“My usual needed shaking up. I was in a rut. I needed—oh my God.”
“What?” he slowed the car.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.” I offered him a sheepish smile. “I just had the perfect ending line for Bishop in Traveling. Not that I’ll get to use it now, likely.”
“Write it down,” Harley ordered. “You never know. Better to write it down than regret not.”
“Smart man.” I pulled out my phone, jotted some fast notes about ruts, shaking things up, and needing the right person to come along.
“And here’s our turn. You can whisper your big brainstorm to me later. If you want.”
“I want.” I smiled as he took the turn for a long gravel drive. I rarely showed anyone drafts of scenes outside of collaborative work with the writing room, and not even Cressida fully knew my plans for the show’s end game, but I trusted Harley. He made my muscles warm and loose with every glance and made me want to share. “Good lord, this property is gorgeous. All this is yours?”
The cabin was set back from the road and surrounded by several small outbuildings and fenced areas. Beyond the small wooden cabin, the forest lay thick and lush and gave the appearance that this house was the only sign of civilization for miles. We’d passed a few other mailboxes and signs of life, but once we turned onto the gravel drive, the rest of the world retreated, leaving us suspended in time. The ageless appeal of the older cabin made me feel like a time traveler myself.
Another writerly epiphany slammed into me. This was the seductive allure of time-traveling, the ability to escape one’s ordinary life and circumstances, and that appeal was also what made it so hard for my characters to give up their mission. Visiting the past meant evading the present, and right then, I was totally okay with that for myself.
“Yep. Uncle Frank saved a lot of years to buy this land.” Harley’s body language seemed looser, like he had also exhaled as soon as we’d turned in. “Place was in terrible shape, but it’s a good number of acres. He put in what work he could to make the place habitable, then my buddies and I have done odd jobs too. Cash and Danny built the porch.”
“Wow. I love it.” I pulled up my notes again, frantically typing on my phone. “This is giving me more brainstorms. I was going to end the series on the beach, but suddenly, I can see the core characters on a mountain. Maybe. We’ll see.”
“You’ve got good ideas, boss. I trust you.” He parked near the cabin door. His faith in me was the gift I hadn’t realized I needed, and I took a minute to bask in his conviction rather than unbuckling. He reached for the door. “You can stay put while I check the place out. Make sure we don’t have squatters.”
“That happens?” Alarm rising again, I turned in the seat.
“Never here before, but it never hurts to be extra safe. Might be the odd mouse or squirrel though.”
“I’ll take the risk.” I unbuckled in a hurry. “I’d rather face my doom head-on than hide in the car.”
Harley opened his mouth, likely to object, but I was already out of the car and snapping Hercules onto his leash.
“I trust Harley,” I said to the dog. “But I’m not sure I trust your doggie brain. No heading for the hills.”
Harley snorted. “As if he’d ever leave you.”
Funny how a few weeks ago, losing Hercules would have been the worst thing in the world, but now losing Harley was in the running for bad things I worried far too much about. I wanted both of them to never leave me. Wanted to believe Harley could be different from my string of exes.
Trying to cover my anxiousness, I stretched and looked around at the property, the adorably quaint outbuildings, wood and wire fencing, newer porch but crooked door, one of many little quirks that gave the place such character.
“This place is truly charming.”
“Thanks.” The back of Harley’s neck was a ruddy pink as he insisted on going first into the cabin before declaring it safe enough for me to enter.
“Oh, I love this.” The main room was dominated by an old-fashioned iron woodstove in the corner and two oversize leather chairs. The decor was rather sparse, but there was a certain minimalistic loveliness to the space. The other end of the cabin was an open kitchen with a small table and chairs. A ladder near the kitchen led to a loft above us. I couldn’t resist touching the smooth wood of the ladder, thoroughly in love with each small detail of the cabin.
“Wanna see the loft?” Harley winked at me as he pointed at the ladder.
“That a pickup line?” I asked hopefully. No need to disguise my eagerness around him.
