I shouldn’t be wondering these things, but… did my presence make him think of her? Did it make him miss her? Was I intruding on another woman’s memories? Had they planned and built this place together? Had she helped him design it?
Stop.
This imagined woman was making me irrationally angry and triggering my OCD. It was ridiculous and unconfirmed, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I shook my head and nuzzled my nose into Mr. Bean’s fur, trying to escape the phantom pang in my gut that told me I was intruding on another woman’s life.
The door slammed open, banging into the counter. Gray walked in, his cheeks flushed from the cold. His coat was gone, and his flannel sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms easily the size of my thigh, or at least my calf—whatever… his arms were big. The sight made me forget my name.
Of all things sacred, he was stunning.
Ripping my eyes from the man-meat, I noticed the stacked trays balancing on one of his arms. His other hand was searching for the doorknob to close the door.
Were those…eggs?
I rushed forward, instinctively wanting to help as he balanced the stack of what looked to be hundreds of brown eggs. Mr. Beans wriggled in my grasp as I shifted him into the nook of my elbow.
“What are you planning to do with all these!?” I exclaimed, getting a hand on one corner of the stack.“They’ll go bad before you can eat them.”
He chuckled.“You mean beforeweeat them,” he challenged.“Most people don’t know this, but fresh eggs like these can last for two months, maybe even longer if it’s cold enough.”
I tilted my head.“Really?” I was doubtful, and yet he would know, wouldn’t he?
“Really,” he winked over the top of them.“And I love eggs. We’ll run out before then, I’m sure.”
“And I’ll be leaving long before that,” I added, narrowing my eyes at the confident way he seemed to imply I’d be here for the foreseeable future, if not forever.
Mr. Beans wiggled and slipped down my front, wanting down. I let him go, and we set the eggs on the counter. I crossed my arms over my chest.
Gray didn’t look at all perturbed by my comment.“Unless I take you out of here, you aren’t going anywhere, Buttercup.”
I guffawed.“You can’t make me stay here,” I argued.“I’ll leave when I’m ready.”
He chuckled sardonically, shaking his head in a long, sweeping gesture of disbelief.“You won’t. It’s this, or you die, sweet thing.”
Was he serious right now? I mean, I get it. He kidnapped me, but the creepy,‘and now I’ll keep you’kind of talk? I didn’t like it.
A twinge of fear needled through me, and a red flag flapped in the wind of my thoughts. What did I really know about Gray? What if he was some kind of kidnapper, a serial killer even? Had there been another woman whom he had just disposed of once the relationship went sour? Was I about to find a series of shallow graves out back under the snow? After all, I’d met him on the dark web—practically a hunting ground for that sort of person.
Holy shit, Betty.
Why didn’t I get more information on him? Sure, he’d helped me, but maybe that was his way of getting close to his victims? Mobster turned serial killer has a natural progression to it.
“I’ll be gone soon enough,” I pressed on, chin held high.“Even if I have to do it alone. I’ll find a way.”
He chuffed.
My anger flared at the implication that I wasn’t capable. I was about to fire back when I heard a soft scratching noise and turned to investigate. My eyes widened as I saw Mr. Beans squatting in a pile of sawdust near the fireplace, preparing to make a poo.
“Mr. Beans!” I squealed, just in time to see him pinch off a Tootsie Roll right in the center of the sawdust pile.
Gray barked out a laugh, watching the moment the hot turd rolled down the sawdust, now looking like a panko-crusted fish-stick. This was mortifying, and somehow personally embarrassing since he was my cat.
“I guess we need a litter box,” Gray said, still chuckling.
He crossed the room, pushing over a plastic bin filled with what appeared to be puzzle pieces. They spilled across a round table in the corner—wheretwochairs were neatly pushed in. He walked back to the front door and disappeared outside. When he returned a few moments later, the plastic bin was filled with more sawdust, and I finally understood what he was doing.
Before setting the bin down, Gray brandished a sharp wooden stick and speared the panko-crusted Tootsie Roll from the pile and set the bin down in its place. Mr. Beans hopped into the shallow bucket immediately, dug around, and squatted to pee this time, looking as relieved as I had earlier behind the little copse of trees. Villy came running over next, tumbling into the bin and doing the same.
I let out a hard laugh, then giggled at the Tootsie Roll skewered on a stick in Gray’s hand. He moved to the other side of the cabin, unlocked a second door, and went outside.
