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I’ve never been to the mountains. My parents were more beach folk, and every summer we would spend time in some coastal town tanning and swimming. But the mountains have a charm of their own.
The climb itself is hard. As the altitude increases, the road grows steeper. Sweat sticks to my forehead as I press down hard on the accelerator. The bright arch of light from the car illuminates the dark trees around me and nothing else. In the dark, they appear like lithe fingers of creatures creeping toward me. All the beauty of the mountain flees my mind as I realize I’m up here all alone.
Uneasiness sinks into me. What if I’m walking into some kind of trap? What if this is the beginning of one of those really shitty serial killer movies? There’s even one about an author going away to a cabin and being stalked by an unknown assailant.
The car whines through the gravel. The road is way steeper than I initially imagined.
Just as I start thinking these crappy thoughts, the bright light of the cabin appears ahead of me, like a guardian angel showing me the way. I sigh in relief as I pull up to the driveway.
A large path in front of the structure has been cleared, while neatly trimmed bushes crowd the property. The ground is a little slippery and I almost stumble as I’m taking my backpack out of the car.
It takes me a minute to find the birdhouse with the flashlight of my phone. When I finally do, I retrieve the key and head inside.
The cabin itself is compact, with a slanting wooden roof and a cute little porch with two wicker chairs set next to each other. I imagine Artie as a sexy woodsman who built the house painstakingly with his own rough hands. I’ve been thinking of writing a lumberjack into one of my books; maybe I can take some tips from him.
The smell of cinnamon and freshly ground coffee hits my nose as I step inside. The floor is polished wood, as is the slanted ceiling held together by varnished wooden slabs that curve upward, giving way to the second floor. The cabin has some kind of central heating system because I can practically feel the chill in my bones thaw the moment I step inside.
Plush cushions are arranged around a coffee table that’s scattered with magazines and other stationery along with a half-finished bottle of beer and a packet of nachos. The fireplace still has a few dying embers left, and the smell of burning wood invades my nose as I walk up to it.
Strange.
Looks like the place hasn’t been unoccupied for long, and maybe the last guest left in a hurry. I just hope Artie had enough time to clean the place, especially the bedding. There’s no way I’m sleeping in somebody else’s nasty sheets.
I climb the rickety stairs to the second-floor landing. The floorboards creak under my weight, and I sure as hell hope they can hold me. I’m not exactly a petite lady.
The head of a deer is mounted on the wall. As I walk past it, I realize it’s fake, some kind of relic from the distant past. I randomly walk into the room next to the landing. There are two more down the hallway.
The room is painted midnight blue, a sharp contrast to the rest of the house which is bright and cheerful. To my delight, there’s a bathroom attached to the room, along with a sprawling bathtub that looks like it’s made for a giant.
“Sweet,” I say, grateful that I packed my bubble bath salts with me. They make me smell like a dream. Too bad there won’t be anybody around to smell it, or me.
I run the bath, pleased when I get a steady stream of piping hot water. I don’t get comfortable until my baths are just a tad less hot than hell itself.
I blast Beyoncé on my iPod and, shaking my hips side to side in time with the beat, I drop my towel and walk over to the tub. I dip myself into the water, relaxing almost instantaneously. I’ve been waiting to use the bath salts, since sadly I don’t have a fucking bath back in my apartment.
I spread my legs apart as my head wanders. I think about my heroine—Flora.
Unlike me, she’s still stuck on the mountain where she runs into trouble.
Draft Excerpt:
I’m about to make a sharp turn on the mountain bend when a deer comes into my path out of nowhere. To avoid hitting it, I swerve to the left, crashing straight into a tree. My body jerks forward, and if it weren’t for the seat belt, I would have been thrown out of the car. Smoke emanates from the radiator. I cough as it invades my throat.
The door to my side is thrown open. The most gorgeous set of green eyes appears next to me. “Are you okay?” asks a husky voice.
“Yeah,” I say. Another face appears, this one with blue eyes.
“Do I have a concussion?” I ask. “I’m seeing two of you.”
“You might,” the first one says. “But your vision is okay. We’re identical twins.”
“Oh my,” I gasp. The brothers carry me out of the car and lay me on the ground. “Lie still,” the first one says. “I need to open your shirt to make sure you’re okay.”
“Hmmm, do you really have to do that?” I ask, gasping as the other brother unbuckles my jeans.
He squeezes my breast. “Yeah, I’ll have to give you a proper exam, just to be sure.”
My legs curl, while my fingers make their way to my core. My body relaxes, and my mind wanders as I lose myself to the thrum of pleasure.
