Page 18 of Goode Tidings

I don't want to leave. Not the town of Snowflake, or this square of land I've illegally made mine. I also don't want Justin to decide to give Ernest a call.

This means I'll have to kiss Justin's ass. Pretend I'm sorry for impersonating him to the electric company, taking over his forgotten-about cabin, and breathing life into the place. It's the last thing I want to do, but that's how much I love this little lakeside haven. Not to mention the peaceful tranquility that comes with it. I've been on my own out here for so long, I don't know how I would feel returning to the bustle of Phoenix.

The polite thing for me to do is deliver the washed-and-dried baked ziti container to Eden. Right? That's what I decided when I was halfway finished with my shower, right before I let out a string of expletives after I banged my knee on the faucet and stubbed my toe on the drain. When I was remodeling this outbuilding and making it into an office, I didn't spring for a bigger shower because I envisioned myself standing up from my desk after a long day, rinsing off, and getting into the hot tub. I didn't foresee a woman and her teenage son showing up out of nowhere, effectively kicking me out of the cabin that's not mine but kind of is.

But here we are.

Not only do I need to say thank you to Eden for the homemade dinner, I also need Justin's phone number so the absolutely foul ass-kissing can commence.

Reaching down into my duffel, I grab a clean flannel shirt and thread my arms through. I've been keyed up all morning ever since I saw Eden's yoga routine and had the idea to talk to Justin.

I stride across the small space, pausing next to the door when I see Eden stepping out from the cabin. My fingers quickly work the buttons on the shirt, feeding them through the openings. Just because Eden has seen almost everything there is to see about me, doesn't mean I should throw all decorum out the window. If that were the case, I would never get dressed again.

I fasten the final button, leaving the top two undone, and swing open the door. Stepping out onto the wood porch, my eyes find Eden's across the one hundred or so yards.

She's waving her arms, trying to tell me something. Her hands cup around her mouth, and she shouts. The windy day picks up her voice, carrying it away before it can reach me. The trees and the sound of the lake come together to form white noise. My hands lift, palms up as I shake my head in the universal gesture of I have no idea what you're saying.

Eden understands, and trades her shouting for furiously stabbing the air with a pointed finger.

Did I forget to put on pants? I know I didn't, but there's a split-second where I wonder. A quick glance down at myself confirms I am appropriately covered.

That's when I see it. A short distance away, a dog I recognize as belonging to the neighbor jumps in excitement. Pawing at the ground, then backing away only to bounce forward again. It moves sideways and reveals the real threat, probably what Eden was pointing at.

Long black fur, thick and glossy. Tell-tale white stripes running over its back, extending to the tip of its bushy tail.

A solid twenty feet away from me, but not nearly far enough.

Front feet stamping the ground, tail raised. The skunk turns around, rear pointed in the dog's direction. The dog seems to sense imminent danger, backing up.

Ready. Aim. Fire.

I scramble, trying to put as much distance as possible between myself and the skunk, but the wall is behind me and I bounce off it. There cannot be more than two seconds that I've wasted running into the wall, but it's two seconds too many.

The stench hits me instantly. Putrid rotting eggs, a scent I know will cling to my clothes just by being in close proximity.

Then the skunk, that fucker, saunters away. I think it might even have its chest puffed up a little.

Eden's cackling pierces the windy day like an arrow.

My hands firmly plant on my hips, tongue running over the roof of my mouth as I do everything I can not to throw up in front of her. I exhale hard, trying to get the smell out of my nose, but of course this is a stupid move because now I have to inhale.

Dammit. I walk away and gulp a lungful of air. It still stinks, but it's not as pungent. My clothes are probably ruined.

What is seriously going on in the universe since Eden arrived? How much more can I embarrass myself in front of her?

I can no longer hear Eden's laughter, so I glance up at the house as I walk closer. She's bent over at the waist, hands on her knees, shoulders quaking, as if she's being shaken by some invisible force.

Great. She's laughing so hard she's not making any noise.

My arms cross in front of my chest, and I widen my stance, glaring at her. She finally recovers, standing upright. But then she takes one look at my face, and bursts into another round of cackling.

I should be annoyed. And I am. Mostly.

Something about it all catches me off guard. The way her face changes when she laughs properly, the flush that reddens her cheeks, the way her eyes squint. Her smile wide, whole expression open and unguarded in a way I haven’t really seen from her yet.

It’s irritating. That’s what it is.

"Are you nearly done?" I call, my voice coming out rougher than intended.