Page 17 of Stuck with Me

“Designated Dean, here?”

“Hey, I need a ride,” is all I think to blurt into the phone.

“Drunk on Christmas already,” he says. “I hear ya, holidays will do that to the best of ‘em. Sit tight, where ya at?”

“Actually,” I pause and consider lying. My chances of getting a ride might be better. But if my mama did anything right, she didn’t raise no liar. “I’m not drunk. But I do need a ride. From the Maple Ridge hotel to about fifteen miles out of town. I’m desperate, please.”

“Uhh, how’d you get my number?”

“Instagram.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. “Where do ya need to go?”

“There’s a cabin off the highway a ways.”

“Yeah, I know just the place. Uhh, you a friend of Rosie’s?”

This time, I do lie. Or more, stretch the truth. “Yep. I’m spending New Year’s with Rosie and the rest of the gang.”Who am I, a villain in Scooby Doo?The gang. I run my palm down my face.

“I’ll be spending New Year’s out there too. I could pick you up when I head out there tomorrow?”

“But I want to surprise them, so I was hoping to head up there a day early.”

“I suppose I could take you before my Christmas dinner is ready?—”

“I’ll definitely make it worth your while.”

* * *

DesignatedDean picks me up in an old, lifted Chevy Suburban with huge, studded tires, and a snowplow blade mounted to the front of it. He bores me with small talk but thankfully doesn’t quiz me much on Rosalie. I don’t know all that much about her. And I know less about her friends and the cabin. But after I flashed him the five one-hundred-dollar bills, I don’t think he cared about much else.

After driving on the same road and weaving up the mountain for what feels like longer than it probably was, he finally slows the truck down. The snow falling onto the windshield accumulates, but in the distance, a rustic wooden structure comes into view. I’ve only seen one picture of the cabin. My great-aunt showed us when she told us about its existence. But the picture was taken during summer. And seeing the place now, that photo is clearly old.

Designated Dean drops me off in front of the cabin with a wave out the window. “Tell Rosie I said,how you doin’?” He raises his brows suggestively and I give him a curt nod.

I’m definitely not going to do that.

With a duffle over my shoulder, my cowboy hat on my head, and grocery bags hanging off my arms, I shuffle through the thick snow toward the porch with the key in my gloved hand. Silently I’m praying that this key actually works, and Designated Dean doesn’t leave me stranded here. At some point over the years, Rosalie’s grandmother could’ve had the locks changed.

But when I line the key up with the lock, it slides in easily. I turn the knob and give the door a nudge with my shoulder, but it doesn’t budge. Shoving it harder, it swings open at last, and I stumble inside, clenching the bags in my arms.

My eyes take a trip around the room as I enter the cabin further. The light fighting to come in through the windows is blocked by drawn curtains, giving the place a dingy feel. There’s a chill in the air, but it doesn’t compare to the biting wind outdoors.

At first sight, the cabin doesn’t look like much. Though it does appear to be in good condition considering the age of it. But even still, I can’t fathom what my granddad was thinking when he poured his money into this place.

I shut the door behind me and try to stomp the snow from my boots and my pant legs. I pull open the curtains to let some natural light in until I can find the switches. Abandoning the groceries and my duffle by the door, I begin wandering through the cabin. There’s a light switch on the wall near the kitchen and when I flip it on, the open space illuminates in a glow.

There’s a wooden platter on the center of the island holding a bottle of honey Jack Daniels whiskey and two tin Christmas mugs. Each has a different famous quote from the movie National Lampoons Christmas Vacation. The first one reads:And why is the carpet all wet, Todd?I pick up the other mug which reads:I don’t know Margo!

I try to be annoyed. But I can’t resist a soft chuckle. I shake my head. A bag of mini Kit-Kat candy bars next to the whiskey bottle catches my attention. It gets my mind spiraling over a beautiful brunette. And now I’m back to feeling that same sexual tension from this morningaftermy shower.

I snatch a Kit-Kat out of the bag and unwrap it before stuffing the entire thing in less than two bites into my mouth while I continue perusing around the cabin. I open more curtains, allowing the early afternoon light to stream in and give the space some natural warmth. But it isn’t enough.

After searching for a thermostat, and coming up empty-handed, I glare at the wood stove in the living room that appears to be the only heat source in the cabin. I exhale a loud groan before allowing it to dissolve into a sigh. If I want to thaw, I guess I better get busy.

Once I’ve unloaded my groceries into the fridge and cupboards, I check around for a bundle of chopped wood near the stove. But the firewood rack is empty.

Shit. Now I’m probably going to have to chop some. A photo in a frame resting on a bookcase catches my attention and I pick it up to get a closer view.

---