FOR THE EIGHTH morning in a row, Chris woke up in Joey’s bed, although in his mind it was his bed since he’d made it with his own hands. A nice thought, Joey sleeping in his bed every single night. He did have his own bed at his place in Portland, but he much preferred staying with Joey in the cabin. It was closer to work, closer to the mountain and closer to every teenage dream he’d ever had about her. Back in high school he’d spent most of winter break here with them and most of summer break, too. This room had contained two sets of bunk beds and he and Dillon shared one and Joey took the other. Since she slept on the top bunk, Chris had, too, for no other reason that when the moon was bright or if he woke up early enough to catch the morning sun, he could see her sleeping not six feet away from him. He’d had a Nine Inch Nails T-shirt she’d latched on to for some reason and slept in it whenever she could steal it from the clean laundry basket. Maybe she’d just liked the color, although he pretended what she liked was the owner. When he saw her those summer mornings wearing his T-shirt, red-faced and rumpled and with a pillow over her eyes, he could pretend for a few seconds she was his girlfriend and this was their bedroom in their house and she loved him as much as he loved her, wanted him as much as he wanted her. Sadly, that particular erotic and romantic fantasy evaporated when Dillon let one rip in the middle of the night, which was when Chris regretted asking for the top bunk as both heat and horrible smells rose.
Upon reflection, watching Joey sleep as a teenager was a little creepy. He could admit that to himself. He made a lot of bad decisions at age seventeen and creeping on his best friend’s sister was one of them. Of course now he was twenty-eight, and he was still watching her sleep. He couldn’t blame that on being a horny lovesick teenager anymore. He had to blame it on being a horny lovesick grown man.
It was the eighth morning he’d spent the night in her bed, therefore it was the eighth morning in a row he’d had to stop himself from telling her the truth. He was falling in love with her already. Already and again. High school was ancient history so he tried to pretend his feelings were, too. But Mount Hood had sprung up five hundred thousand years ago, which made it ancient history, right? Yet there it was, its snowcap peeking above the treetops. Ancient history or not, it was there and undeniable. He could no more pretend he hadn’t fallen back in love with Joey than he could pretend they weren’t sleeping in a house on an active volcano. And something had to blow and soon because Joey was leaving in three days. Today was Thursday. The wedding was Saturday on Halloween. And Joey flew back to Hawaii on Sunday.
So he had all of today, Friday and Saturday to talk her into staying.
But first, he had to wake her up. He’d learned quickly the best way to wake Joey from a deep sleep was for him to leave the bed and start cooking breakfast. Poking and prodding and whispering would only elicit a groan from her before she flopped over onto her stomach and went immediately back to sleep.
If he cooked bacon, however...
No better alarm clock in the world.
Chris carefully slid Joey’s arm off his stomach. She had an adorable habit of resting an arm or a leg across him while they slept. Well, it was adorable until he had to get out of bed to piss or go to work. Then it made the process slightly harrowing. He wanted to believe that the only sort of woman who would hold him in her sleep was a woman who was maybe possibly a little bit in love with him, too. Or maybe she was just one of those women who was always cold and therefore only used his naked body as a heat source. He’d assume the latter and hope for the former.
With good luck and good technique, Chris managed to slide out of bed without pulling Joey or the covers to the floor. She muttered something about it being too early before rolling over and going back to sleep again. He stood there a moment by the bed and took in the view. The view from the window was a sight to behold—lush, deep green fir trees, cottonwoods bright yellow in the morning sunlight, the white of the peak of Mount Hood and the moss growing on every tree trunk in sight. But none of that compared to the view inside the window, the view of Joey on her side, her beautiful naked back exposed and her hair lying wild on the pillow.
“I’m going to marry you by next Halloween,” he said softly enough he knew she wouldn’t hear even if she was awake.
Why did he promise he wouldn’t try to make her stay?
Oh, yeah, because she wouldn’t sleep with him if he didn’t. She was right, though. She shouldn’t be making huge decisions like quitting her job and moving so shortly after a breakup. He wasn’t about to try to talk her into that. What he could do, however, was seduce her. Seduce her not for sex—that was already happening, a lot—but seduce her into staying. He wouldn’t say a word about it. He’d let his seduction skills do the convincing and then Joey would decide to stay all on her own.
He’d start the seduction with bacon.
Chris pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt, and turned the heat up in the house. They both liked to sleep in a cool room under blankets. They didn’t need the heat on to stay warm at night, anyway. They had each other for that.
Chris grinned to himself as he started cooking breakfast. He’d been grinning a lot lately, probably more in the past six days than in the last six months combined. All thanks to Joey and her sweet sexy self. Instead of spending her vacation hiking or biking or doing whatever people on vacations did—he wouldn’t know as he hadn’t taken one in four years—she came to work with him for part of the day and spent the rest of the day helping Dillon and Oscar with wedding stuff. She’d always been kind and selfless. She might tease Dillon and Oscar about getting married on her birthday but he knew she didn’t care. She said she’d shared her birthday with Halloween and millions of trick-or-treaters every single year so it wasn’t like she ever thought she owned the day. When she said she couldn’t think of a better way to spend her birthday than watching her big brother get married to the love of his life, Chris knew she meant it.
“Is that bacon I smell?” Joey asked from the doorway. She had on his black-and-yellow checkered flannel shirt and slouchy mismatched wool socks and nothing else from what he could tell. One cheek bore a nice long pillow crease, and she’d pulled her hair back into a messy loose ponytail. Under her eyes were smudges left from eye makeup. He’d never seen a more beautiful sexy woman in all his born days.
“Bacon and eggs.”
“You spoil me.”
“It’s what I was put on earth to do.” He kissed her cheek as she leaned in to smell breakfast in the iron skillet.
“I’m starting to believe that.”
She patted him on the ass as she went to the coffee pot for “fuel,” as she called it. Fueling up, refueling, out of fuel. He was quickly learning all her quirks and habits. She couldn’t go to sleep without flossing first no matter how tired she was. If she didn’t she said she’d dream of her teeth falling out. She called all dogs, no matter how young or old, big or small, “puppies.” When cleaning or doing laundry she sang Adele songs, just Adele. No one else. And she sang them badly. Very badly. She hated cilantro in her food, loved hot sauce on her eggs and would drive an hour just to get Stumptown Coffee Roasters coffee when they ran out of it. Rocket fuel, she called it. Her favorite.
“What are we doing today?” she asked between sips of rocket fuel.
“I’m done at Timber Ridge. Thought I’d take the day off.”
“For me?” She batted her eyelashes at hm.
He carried the skillet with their bacon and eggs over to the table. She’d already set out the plates and forks. They made a good team in the kitchen.
“For you. If you want me. If you don’t want me...” He took a step back, taking the bacon and eggs with him.
“I want you,” she said. “I want you so much. And your bacon. All your bacon.”
“You can have half my bacon. I get the other half.”
“This is fair. I can accept this.” She held up her plate and he scooped breakfast onto it. “You know, I’m only sleeping with you because you cook me breakfast every morning. I don’t want you to think I actually like you or something.”
“You’re just using me for my bacon?”
“I am,” she said, picking up a thick, crisp slice.
“That hurts.” He sat down at the table across from her. “I’m hurt by that.”
“Okay, maybe I’m not using you exclusively for your bacon.”
“You can’t just take something like that back,” he said. “I’m wounded. To the core. I feel so...so used.”
Joey leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand and stared at him across the table.
Then she held out her bacon to him.
“A gift?” he asked.
“Peace offering. And proof I’m not just using you for your bacon. Not exclusively.”
He opened his mouth and she fed it to him.
“Good?” she asked.
“Tastes like love.”
“Lust for sure,” she said, wagging her eyebrows at him before taking another slice of bacon off her plate and stirring hot sauce into her eggs.
Chris picked up his fork and focused on his eating and tried to ignore that Joey had brushed aside his use of the L-word with a quick joke. Not that he blamed her. She’d gotten out of a two-year-long relationship last week. In her shoes he wouldn’t even be dating someone else, much less considering a future with them. But he wasn’t in her shoes. He was in his shoes. And the man in his shoes was quickly falling in love with the woman in Joey’s shoes. Well, socks. Wait, were those his socks, too?
“So...there’s this thing in the sky today,” Chris said. “Have you seen it?”
“What is it?”
“It’s big and it’s yellow and it’s very bright.”
“Big Bird?”
“Not quite.”
“A very large honeydew melon?”
“Hotter. I think it might be the sun.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“Are you sure?” Joey asked. “Doesn’t sound like anything you’d see in Lost Lake in October.”
“I double-checked. It’s there. Still. And it doesn’t seem to be going away for the next couple of hours. I think we should do something with it. In it, I mean.”
“Like worship it? Sacrifice someone or something to it?”
“Or we could walk to the lake and around the lake. I hear this is a thing people do when the sun is out.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “Good excuse to wear my cute new hiking boots. Not a lot of excuses to wear boots on a beach.”
“Visit more often and you can boot around all you want.”
“Maybe I will. For the boots,” she said, and winked at him. “I’ll go get ready.”
Joey left to get dressed while Chris hunted down his shoes and jacket. Last night Joey had been all over him the second he’d walked through the front door. They’d had sex on the sofa first with the fireplace roaring a few feet away. They’d had sex in the bed an hour later. Well, on the bed if not in the bed. He’d put Joey’s hands on the headboard and fucked her from behind. One of his favorite positions as he could have total access to every inch of the front of her body while inside her. The question was...at what point during last night’s fuck fest had he taken his work boots off?
Chris found his boots under the sofa. So apparently he’d taken them off after the first fucking and before the second fucking. When he and Joey both had their clothes on—such a pity—they walked out the back door and headed down the muddy path through the trees.
“You remember how to get to the lake?” she asked as he took her hand.
“I know exactly where we’re going.”
“Then why did you take the right fork when the left fork leads to the lake?”
“Because we’re not going to the lake just yet. I want to show you something.”
Joey raised her eyebrow.
“Not that,” he said. “You’ve already seen it.”
“I know, but I never get tired of the view.”
Chris laughed as he dragged her by the hand down the path. Sunlight trickled through the high canopy of towering Douglas firs and red cedar trees. Ferns and bear grass lined the edge of the trail like a soft green fence. The last week of rain had left the trails muddy and the air scented with pine and cedar and everything clean and alive. Impossible to walk this path with this woman and not give in to the voice of hope inside him that said even if Joey wouldn’t stay in Oregon for him, maybe she would stay for this day, this land, this mountain, this lake.
“This cabin,” Chris said when they reached the end of the path. “Like it?”
“Wow.” Joey let go of his hand and stepped into the clearing. “Oh, my God...”
“Good reaction.”
“It’s Thoreau’s cabin.”
“Not quite, but close. I found pictures of it when I restored it and went off those.”
Joey turned to face him, her dark eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. Took all his strength not to kiss the life out of her.
“You did this?”
“It was on its last legs,” Chris said. “It was either tear it down completely or rebuild it from the studs up. Seemed like a good contender for a stone facade.”
“You did this?” she asked again. “All you?”
“Not all me. I hired a few subcontractors. But the redesign was all me.”
“It’s incredible. I used to dream about living in a cottage like this.”
“I know. You had pictures of those Carmel-by-the-Sea fairy-tale cottages on your Wonder Wall.”
“You remember my Wonder Wall?”
“I remember hating Oasis and rolling my eyes that you called your collage in your room your ‘Wonder Wall.’”
“I was fourteen. I didn’t even know who Oasis was. I just liked the song. And what were you doing peeking at my dream collage, anyway?”
“I wanted to see if I was on it.”
“Were you?”
“No. Harry Potter was.”
“I’d still spread for Daniel Radcliffe.”
“Do you want to see inside this cabin or do you want to make me puke?” he asked.
“I want to see inside.”
He took her by the hand again and led her up the cobblestone path to the front door. He’d found some photos online of stone cabins and cottages and had painted the windowsills bright red with a red front door.
“We went to Carmel when I was a kid,” she said. “Best vacation. I loved all those little houses.”
“You sent me a postcard.”
“I did?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I sent tons of postcards,” she said.
“I feel so special.”
She looked at him and smiled. “You are special.”
“Write it on a postcard. Maybe then I’ll believe that.”
Joey wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him long and hard on the mouth. Tongue was involved. Very involved.
“Now do you feel special?” she asked.
“The special-est. Now stop kissing me so I can find the keys.”
She stepped back and he dug around in his pockets, producing a key ring of many, many keys.
“How many houses do you have?”
“I have keys to all the Lost Lake properties,” he said, flipping to the key with the red tag. “I’m Dillon’s personal handyman.”
“Thought that was Oscar.”
“I’m going to tell them both you said that.”
He stuck the key in the lock, opened the door, and like the gentleman he usually wasn’t, he let Joey in first. He flipped on the light switch and shut the door behind them.
“It’s not finished,” he said. “We had to focus on the exterior and the roof before the weather turned.”
Joey stood in the center of house and spun in one complete circle.
“It’s so beautiful I can’t even believe it’s real. I thought you worked a miracle with Mom and Dad’s old cabin. This is...”
“This is what it looked like.” Chris pulled out his phone and scrolled until he found his pictures.
“Holy...”
“More like hole-y. Mouse holes everywhere. Holes in the floor. Holes in the roof. It’s a slate roof now.”
“I have no idea what that is but it looks awesome. The whole place looks like my dream come true.”
Chris only nodded, proud of his handiwork. The work spoke for itself. He’d put in cedar paneling, diamond rectangle windows by either side of the fireplace, and replaced the old crumbling stone fireplace with red brick to match the windowsills and door. All lighting came from wall sconces he’d picked up at thrift stores and vintage shops and he’d bought the rug on the floor from a local weaver who called herself a “fiber artist,” whatever that was. She made damn good rugs.
“I’m glad you like it,” Chris said. It was all he could think to say. Joey made him feel all kinds of something—proud and speechless and embarrassed and in love all at once. The less he said, the better. Otherwise, he might let it slip that he was in love with her already.
“I love it. I just... I absolutely love it.”
“I’m glad. I wanted you to see it. Maybe you can stay in this cabin next time you’re in town.”
“That’s the second time in thirty minutes you mentioned me coming back to town.”
“Just saying...you should visit more often.”
“Or move back?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Chris, I can’t stay. We talked about this.”
“I didn’t ask you to stay. I’m just showing you how nice it is here so maybe you’ll visit more often. That’s all.”
“I’ll visit more often or I’ll stay?”
“No comment. But...do you want to see the other eight houses we own? The other eight cabins I turned into cabins like this?” He grinned at her wickedly.
“That’s so not fair.”
“When you visit again you can stay in any of our cabins that aren’t booked.”
“If the other cabins are half as beautiful as this one, you won’t have any trouble at all keeping them booked,” Joey said.
“That’s probably true. They are pretty damn good cabins.”
“I’m sure they are.”
“Although they do need a good decorator.”
“Now you’re just being evil.”
Chris laughed. “I knew that would get you. I remember you were always making me and Dillon move furniture for you.”
“Never give a fourteen-year-old girl a book on feng shui.”
“You see anything missing from this cabin?”
“Furniture. Dishes. A manual typewriter.”
“A manual typewriter?”
“Yes.” She pointed at an empty wall. “This cabin...it looks like Thoreau’s on Walden Pond. I’d market this cabin as an artist’s retreat. You couldn’t comfortably sleep more than two people in here, anyway, right?”
“Two hundred square feet. Pretty tight fit.”
“But one artist or one writer...perfect. I’d market direct to artist colonies and MFA programs. People who paint en plein air and people who dreamed of writing a book and never got around to starting one. You put a big wooden desk over here. Manual typewriter here. Some inspirational artwork on the walls. A bookcase here with dictionaries and stuff like that.”
“People can get dictionaries online.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not online. This cabin shouldn’t have internet access. None.”
“None?”
“None. No distractions. No internet. No Wi-Fi. No television. Only one phone, the kind with cords and dial tones. And maybe a radio but an old radio. Art deco style. Can you get any cell service out here?”
Chris pulled out his phone again and checked the bars.
“None.”
“See? Perfect writer retreat. I can see it now.”
“So...fewer amenities? This is your advice?”
“People go on vacation to get away from it all. Now because of the internet and cell phones, all that ‘all’ they’re trying to get away from comes with them. Go after the people who really want to get away. The people who just want nothing more than to be on a mountain in the woods by a lake, surrounded by all the beauty—”
“You’re talking about me, right? I know. You don’t have to say it.”
“Surrounded by natural beauty—which you are...yes, it’s helped. It’s helped more than I can say. You can’t run away from your problems but you can leave them for a while. I think that’s what this place should be. This little Lost Lake Village cabin here? Make it a real sanctuary. Going a few days without the internet and CNN never killed anyone, but it probably could save someone’s sanity. Or marriage. Or inspire someone to finally write that first page of their novel.”
“Even my dad says he wants to write a book someday about his tour in the army. And sometimes I leave my phone in the truck overnight just to be left alone. I can see it working.”
“Everybody thinks they want to write a book. Or paint. Or write nature poetry. Or just get away from the world for a while. Away from Twitter and Facebook and all the noise. A tiny cabin in the woods with no internet access, no TV... People would pay a premium for that. There are already hotels popping up that cater to those people. Why not a cabin at Lost Lake? Get lost to find yourself.”
“Get lost to find yourself. There’s our slogan. That’s fucking genius, Jo.”
“Thank you.” She playfully brushed her hair off her forehead. “This is why they pay me those big marketing bucks.”
“And you wonder why Dillon wants to hire you.”
“I know why he wants to hire me—because he’s a genius. But I’ve already got a job. I can help while I’m here, though. So...today and tomorrow?”
“Great. I can give you the company credit card to go buy all the stuff we need. The desk, the typewriter, dictionaries, anything you think would work.” Maybe if Joey got to play at doing the job for one day she’d realize it was what she should be doing. Maybe. Hopefully. Worth a shot, right?
“You’d let me buy whatever I want for this cabin?”
“I remember your Wonder Wall. You have a good eye,” Chris said. And a good everything else.
“I know something good when I see it,” she said, walking over to him.
“Do you?”
“Obviously I do.” She put her hands on his shoulders and kissed the side of his neck. Chris closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Chris ran his hands down her back. She felt warm through her sweater, warm and right. She belonged here. Not here in Oregon. Not here in Lost Lake. Not here in this cabin. But here, in his hands. Her body. His hands. That’s where Joey belonged.
“I should withhold sex until you agree to come back and visit me. Like, ASAP.”
“That would probably work right about now,” she said. “I might agree to anything if you told me you wouldn’t sleep with me again until I agreed to it.”
“I wish I were that tough.”
“You’re not?”
“Nope...” He pulled her to him and turned her in one swift motion. “I’m weak. So weak.”
He took her by the wrists and lifted her arms, pressing her wrists into the wall. Joey playfully struggled against him and gave up quickly.
“If this is your version of weak...”
“What about it?” he asked.
“Then I love it when you’re weak.”
Chris kissed her hard enough to make her whimper. He wasn’t the sort of man who believed in luck. Hard work? Yes. Good timing? Sure. But pure dumb luck? Not until now. Once upon a time he picked a desk at random in a classroom on the first day of school and the desk next to him was claimed by a guy named Dillon wearing a Pearl Jam shirt and it felt like destiny. And now, years later, here he was, kissing the most beautiful woman the world, about to have sex with the most beautiful woman in the world, madly in love with the most beautiful woman in the world. And she’d leave him in three days. So not only did Chris believe in luck, he believed in bad luck.
But for now all he’d think about was the good luck that brought Joey and him here—what they had in the moment, not what they’d lose in three days. And maybe, just maybe, if he made this good enough for her, she would stay. Wishful thinking? Yeah, but what other choice did he have?
Chris slid his hands under her sweater and unclasped her bra in the back. He knew his hands were cold—the cabin itself was chilly—and it gave him a perverse sort of pleasure to put his cold fingers onto her bare breasts. She gasped, shivered and laughed.
“Asshole...” she said.
“Just warming up my hands. Do you mind?” He took her breasts in his hands and lightly kneaded them. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples and they hardened. This was a woman who loved being touched and he was a man who loved touching her. Obviously they belonged together.
He lifted her shirt and bent his head to lick her right nipple. Her hands twined in his hair and she held him against her breast as he sucked her and sucked her. Both of his hands held and squeezed both of her breasts. He couldn’t get enough of them, enough of her. While he distracted her by grazing her nipple with this teeth, he unbuttoned her jeans and pushed down the zipper.
“Don’t you dare put your cold fingers on my—”
That was as far as she got before he slipped his hand into her panties and touched her clitoris.
The sound she made could be replicated only by a bird or a dog whistle. He had no idea humans could make sounds in a register that high. Impressive. Amazing the windows didn’t shatter.
“You’re a monster.” She sighed.
“I know.”
“The worst.”
“The absolute worst,” he agreed. He rubbed her the way he knew she liked, softly in a circle. She moved with his hand and he felt her clitoris swelling. Gently he eased a finger back and inside her, touching her wetness. He loved that wetness, loved that he could do that to her, for her. When she was wet like this, he could slide his fingers deep into her. And she wasn’t just wet, she was hot inside. He caressed the front wall of her vagina and felt her inner muscles clenching at his fingers. He pulled his finger out of her and rubbed the wetness onto her clitoris. Joey cried out, close to coming. She clung to his shoulders, her nails digging in hard enough he could feel them through the thick flannel fabric of his shirt. His erection was already trying to get his attention. He ignored it for now.
“Pure...evil...” She panted the words as he stroked her with one hand while the other eased her jeans down her hips, down her thighs. Finally, he just gave up and pushed them to the floor. Joey kicked off her shoes and sent her pants flying halfway across the cabin.
“I like your enthusiasm,” he said.
“Why aren’t you inside me yet?”
“Are you that horny?”
“I’m cold. I need your body heat.”
“I’m touched. Truly.”
Joey stuck her hands in his pants, her ice cold hands.
“Now you’re touched,” she said, rubbing his cock. “Truly.”
“You’re in so much trouble for that.”
“Good. Getting in trouble warms me up.”
Chris pulled his wallet from his pocket and dug out the condom he’d thankfully stored in there earlier this week. Joey seemed intent on torturing him so she kissed and sucked lightly on his earlobe while he rolled on the condom. When it was on he grabbed her by the upper arms and pushed her against the wall again. She squealed.
“What?” he demanded.
“Cold wall. Cold butt.”
“Such a big baby,” he said. “Here. This better?” He cupped her ass in his now-warm hands and she sighed with pleasure.
“So much better. Now what?”
“Put your arms around my neck, tight.”
She did as instructed. Being in charge during sex got him off like nothing else. And that Joey liked it? Even loved it? How could he let her get on that plane to Hawaii on Sunday? Unless it was to go back and pack? More wishful thinking...
He lifted her left leg up and stroked her pussy with the tip of his cock. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her throat, all while rubbing his cock against her. When she started to open up to him he pushed the tip inside. She moved her hips into his, rocking him deeper inside her. Without a word of warning, he lifted her and brought her all the way down onto him. Joey groaned, a gorgeous sound, and wrapped her entire body around him. Both legs, both arms, her chin on his shoulder, her mouth at his ear. With his hands firmly on her ass, he held her to him, rocking his hips into her as he fucked her against the wall. In this position he knew he wouldn’t last very long. Luckily it didn’t seem like Joey would need him to. The way she moved right now, her lower body working against his hard and hungry, was a clear sign she was close to coming already. He pushed into her with strong but controlled thrusts.
“God, Chris. It feels so good,” Joey said into his ear.
“You want it?”
“I want it. All the time.”
“You can have it all the time. Whenever you want. Just ask for it and it’s yours.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Every day of your life,” he said, thrusting deep again. She clenched around his cock and he knew she was almost there. With a series of rapid thrusts he pushed her the rest of the way. With a whimper in his ear and her fingernails in his neck, she came all around him. He kept thrusting until he came with a loud groan. The pleasure of it wrecked him, sent him reeling. He set Joey carefully down on her feet but didn’t let her go. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, his hands on her waist.
“Why do you insist on making me feel so good?” she asked, running her hands up his arms. She laughed a little, the question obviously rhetorical. Chris decided to answer it, anyway.
“Because I’m in love with you.”