Page 18 of Snow Much Trouble
“Very practical.”
If not a little disappointing.
I like being outside in the crisp clean air and the snow with Lauren.
All the bullshit details back at Four Brothers in Kentucky, and my busy life in Nashville, where I live full-time and we have an office for the distillery, seem very far away.
Back inside the cabin, we shed our wet coats and boots by the door. The place feels toasty after the bitter cold outside, but I can already tell it's getting chilly. Without the central heat, the fireplace is doing its best, but it's fighting a losing battle against the size of the space.
“Damn these high ceilings,” Lauren says, rubbing her arms. “I need to go put more layers on.”
That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard. I want heroutof layers, not bundled up with more. But reality is a bitch.
"I’ll meet you by the fireplace. I’m going to get more wood real quick.”
By the time I’m back with another huge armful of wood, Lauren is dressed in pajama pants and is pulling blankets off the couch and chairs, gathering them near the fireplace. She’s cleaned up our dinner plates already.
"Good thing Jolene believes in the more the merrier when it comes to throw blankets," she says.
"She’s definitely a bigger is better kind of woman. You’ve seen her hair, right?" I ask with a grin. “Teased all the way to Jesus.”
Lauren laughs. “Big hair, tiny skirts. That’s Jolene. How do you know Chance, by the way?”
“We run in the same circles. My brother is good friends with Cash Young, who is good friends with Chance. And I know Jolene’s brother.” I start arranging pillows from the couch on the floor in front of the fireplace. “You must be an impressive songwriter if Jolene trusts you to write here, in her personal space.”
“So if you know Shane, you know my best friend, Avery. She’s his girlfriend.”
“Oh, sure, I met her once, briefly, at a launch party. She seemed very sweet.” I notice that she avoided the compliment I gave her about her songwriting. I decide to let it slide.
Her business, not mine.
“Avery is very sweet. She's the human version of a marshmallow.”
Lauren is bourbon, then, in spite of what she likes to snack on. She’s smooth and layered. But I don’t say that out loud. Nope. I keep my mouth shut.
We arrange everything in front of the fireplace, creating a cozy nest of pillows and blankets on the plush rug.
“It looks like a sleepover fort,” Lauren says. “Which is appropriate because we will be sleeping right here in it or we’ll freeze to death.”
“We’re not going to freeze to death. I promise.”
“You can’t make a promise like that. We very well might freeze. What temperature does hypothermia set in?”
“People lived for thousands of years with just a fire as a heat source,” I point out.
“And people died.”
“The only thing that is dying tonight is your sense of adventure,” I say. I have a feeling Lauren is a rise-to-the-challenge kind of girl. If I poke at her, she’ll work overtime to prove me wrong.
In the midst of settling onto the rug and pulling a soft cream-colored blanket around her shoulders, she pauses to glare at me. “My sense of adventure is massive. I came to a cabin in the woods by myself, didn’t I?”
“To a luxury chalet,” I correct. “And you have Buck to keep you company.” I nod toward the reindeer standing sentry by the front door.
Lauren is definitely the kind of woman to name the reindeer. She has a vibrancy about her, a big energy, that I’m really drawn to.
“Buck is a terrible conversationalist. Just admit it. I’m very brave.” She flips the end of the blanket across her shoulder like a scarf.
“You’re right. You’re very brave. Can I get you anything? A snack? Some water? Your bag of marshmallows?” I start to stand up.
