One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,125
the door.
Toto, we’re not in Dallas anymore.
Victoria felt like she was having an out-of-body experience but managed to say, “Water? Firewood?” She’d never given a faucet a second thought, but apparently here in Nowheresville, Alaska, running water was a luxury. And warmth? She’d been wearing shorts since early March, but with the temperature dropping, April here in Alaska felt like it could start snowing any second.
He held the door wide, and she walked into the eighteenth century, and not some English ballroom either. This place was Daniel Boone’s cabin. There was no refrigerator, no cooktop, only two shelves with an iron skillet, a Dutch oven like she’d seen in Julie and Julia, and cans of food from this person Piney he’d mentioned. And wasn’t Piney a strange name?
She spun on him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” She was in shock. “If I could cook, there’s no place to even do it.”
He set her luggage by the bed and put his hands up defensively. “You’ll use the woodstove.”
That must be the cast-iron contraption in the corner.
He continued. “There’s a small oven area and two burners on top. It should be plenty for you.”
She choked back a sob. What a nightmare! “Uncle Monty can’t expect me to live here. You have to take me back to Anchorage. To McKenna!” Now!
His face fell into a frown, as if he were concerned she might start wailing. Which she was trying really hard not to do.
“Let’s get you settled in. I’ll show you how to get a fire going.” He pulled the quilt off the bed and wrapped it around her.
She hadn’t realized she was shaking. She grabbed the edges and tightened them around her neck, burying her chin into the cotton blanket, seeking comfort. But this homestead had none.
Jesse went into action over at the woodstove, crumpling newspaper and shoving it inside. “You’ll be an old pro at making a fire in no time. I’m using newspaper for tinder, but I’ll show you how to find good tinder in the woods so you can make a fire by yourself anywhere.” He pulled open a coffee can, retrieved a matchstick, and struck the match, lighting the paper in the bottom of the stove. “Next, you’ll set a little kindling on the fire.” He blew on the paper and twigs until the larger bit of wood caught fire.
“I hope there’s a smoke detector,” she said to herself, wondering just how safe it was to have a fire going when the place was made of logs!
“I’ll let that sit for a second, then I’ll set one of your logs on there.” He pointed to the stack of wood.
And how sanitary was it to have part of the forest in your house? What about bugs? Spiders? And other creepy crawlers?
She was paralyzed. He was acting like she was really going to stay.
He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I promise it’s going to be all right.”
Maybe, she couldn’t help thinking, if you’d take me in your arms and give me a mountain man hug! But his body language said she was screwed.
She didn’t have faith that she could survive here ten minutes by herself, but his lack of faith in her was making her mad—mad enough that she decided she’d have to prove him wrong! “Where’s the restroom? I want to freshen up.” She scanned the room for a second door but didn’t see one.
He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head toward the door. “The outhouse is east of the cabin.”
She was horrified but managed to square her shoulders. “Thank you.” She walked toward the door, but his words stopped her.
“Keep an eye out for moose, wolves, and you gotta know this is bear country, too.”
She sucked in a breath and spun around to see if he was kidding.
“Just be careful,” he said. He might as well have said, Have you had enough?
She gripped her hefty Louis Vuitton handbag, deciding it would make a good weapon, if it came to that. “I’ll be back shortly.” She marched out the door, her eyes darting this way and that, making sure some grizzly wasn’t ready to pounce.
Once she was off the porch, she wanted to make a run for the outhouse, but first she turned back to make sure Jesse wasn’t looking. But he was, standing there in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. She gave a little wave and then proceeded toward the toilet, forcing herself to walk with slow, even steps. But then something occurred to her and she turned back around.
“If there’s no running water in the cabin, how am I supposed to take a shower?”
Jesse shrugged like it was no big deal. “There’s a basin under your bed. You’ll get water from the spring or the river and wash up that way.”
She glanced down at her long hair, holding some up for him to see. “How am I supposed to wash this in a basin?”
“Oh,” he said, as if only just noticing she had blond curly locks almost to her waist. “There is an option.”
“I’m not cutting my hair!” Victoria said. Her hair was her best feature.
“You don’t have to. Piney rents out showers at the Hungry Bear to homesteaders and truckers. I’ll take you into town once a week, if you like.”
“This just gets better and better,” she groaned. Was this part of Uncle Monty’s plan? Did he want her to reek like an animal by the time she got her weekly shower?
She stomped the rest of the way to the outhouse, not caring in the least if some wildlife did surprise her on the way there. Maybe it would put her out of her misery.
About the Author
Patience Griffin is the award-winning author of the Kilts and Quilts series of contemporary romances. She grew up in a small town along the Mississippi River, enjoying life in a close-knit community. She loves to quilt and has gained national recognition with her September 11 Story Quilt, which has toured the country as the property of the Pentagon, and her extensive collection of commercially available quilting fabrics.
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