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Well, if he was pointing out her deficiencies, she could do the same. “Sure you want to take those off? The bad guys might be right outside, and you don’t want to run down the mountain in your socks, do you?”
He pulled off a boot, placing it by the door. “No, I don’t. But I don’t want to track snow all over the floor either. Especially after you cleaned it all so well.” He looked around the room. “Nice job.”
Deb squeezed her eyes shut. Of course he’d be pleasant, just to put her in the wrong.
“I’m sorry if I was abrupt. But there really are helos to the north, and your hair is bright. Even a hat won’t hide who you are. Our mountain man recognized you right away.”
She spun to face him. “You met him?”
Michael shrugged. “Met might be too strong a word, because I don’t know his name. He knows yours, though, and he’s a fan. He confronted me and I told him why we’re here. He’s going to help if he can. If you hear something hitting the roof, and I don’t wake up, shake me hard. He said if he saw anyone suspicious, he’d slingshot rocks at the roof. He’s the one who told me about the helicopters, and told me to brush out my tracks. We can’t use a lamp at night, either. Wiz sent some headlamps; they have a red light mode. Use them as little as possible, though. Got it?”
She sighed. “Yeah, sure. Sit here, doing nothing quietly.” Staying busy was the only thing keeping her from worrying to death.
“I’m sorry, Deb. I’m not a fan, either, but I am a fan of keeping you alive.”
“Okay.” She had no other choice, so she turned back to the counter and started dinner. Wiz made it easy. All the food was prepped, she only had to heat it up. They ate at the table, Michael recounting his encounter with the mountain man in more detail, then they cleaned up and sat at opposite ends of the small couch.
She grabbed her e-reader and turned the light on it to the minimum, catching Michael slamming his mouth shut out of the corner of her eye. At nine, she turned it off and got ready for bed. It was a good thing Wiz sent another sleeping bag; she’d like an inflatable mattress, but there really wasn’t room in the tiny cabin. But deep inside, she’d miss the warmth of Michael’s arms. She climbed in the bag and turned away from him.
Michael shifted in his bag, next to her. “Sleep well.”
After a fitful night, Deb rose with the sun, leaving Michael to sleep. He’d tossed and turned like she had, but she didn’t have a migraine problem. The least she could do was help him avoid unnecessary pain. She heated water and made coffee, then settled into a chair to read.
Knowing he was near and safe allowed her to sink into the Lia Huni romcom set in a fictional Bavarian-style town in central Oregon. She stifled her laughter, snickering into her knit hat to muffle the noise, but the description of the gluten-free bakery—and the hero, a yummy baker who kind of reminded her of a nicer, funnier Michael—made her long for her home, and hungry, too.
She couldn’t create elaborate German pastries or Stollen with the backpacking oven, but she could probably manage a streuslkuchen. She rose, found most of the ingredients and figured out substitutions for the others, mixing it quickly, and setting it to bake while Michael snoozed.
After she checked it the first time, Michael’s nose twitched, then he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “That smells amazing. What is it?”
“German Streusel Crumb Cake. I hope it turns out as good as it smells, but I’ve never baked a cake in one of these ovens before.” Deb checked the time; she didn’t want it to burn.
“Why did you let me sleep so late?”
She sighed. Grumpy Michael had woken with a vengeance. “Because you needed it? You’ve been working really hard, and you need sleep or you’ll get sick. I’m not working so hard, so I can do without. I’ll take a nap later.”
He scowled. “I was going to get out of here in the dark, when no one could notice. Now I’m stuck here all day.” He threw back the covers and stomped to the bathroom.
More like she was stuck. She had to put up with his moody self in a tiny cabin with next to no entertainment. Wonderful. Pulling the oven lid off, she pressed the center of the cake, and it bounced back, so she pulled it off the burner, and after loosening the edges with a spatula, set the cake aside to cool. By the time she made more coffee and cut the cake, Michael had returned. She put a slice by him, and took a smaller piece for herself.
Michael reached out and traded her pieces. “If I’m sitting all day, I can’t eat that much sugar.”
“Oh.” Deb swallowed her hurt feelings, but she couldn’t tell him it was okay. Baking was her love language. She took a bite and concentrated on the flavor and texture. A little toasty on the bottom, but it hadn’t burned. This would make a good morning muffin, and the German name might be a selling point. If she had her phone, she could have made a really cute video. “Baker goes wild” or “Success in the Rough” would be awesome titles and might bring a new audience.
She dropped the fork, her appetite disappearing. It seemed like she’d never enter her bakery again. She poured another cup of coffee and returned to the futon. She’d just read and ignore Michael. Sizzling drew her attention—he was cooking eggs. She should have done that—of course he’d need protein after all the hiking. Maybe she should create more low sugar versions of her cupcakes. Michael couldn’t be the only one who couldn’t handle the sweetness. Frosting might be harder, but perhaps monkfruit or stevia would be good substitutes. She reached for her phone to make a note, but it was in the truck along with her smart watch. Wiz had probably sent notepads and pens, but she didn’t feel like getting up. Besides, it was a stupid idea. She was known for sugary, fatty treats; changing her brand was a bad idea.
Michael ate his eggs, but checked out the windows every few minutes. Deb tried to read, but each time he got up, she got distracted. After an hour of pacing, he left the cabin, remaining on the tiny porch. Eventually, she learned to ignore the squeaking boards, and immersed herself into the adorable story.
She made salad for lunch, and they ate in silence at the table. She didn’t want to break the standoff, and it seemed he wasn’t willing to either. Which wasn’t surprising. When Michael finished, he got up, and her mood dropped farther, despite the sun shining through the windows.
He put his boots on. “I can’t stand sitting around doing nothing. I found some planks and a saw next to the cabin’s back wall under a tarp. I’m going to fix the porch. I think I can get to the pile without leaving any tracks in the snow.”
Deb dropped her e-reader on her lap. “Won’t nailing be noisy?”
He shrugged. “I won’t replace anything. I’ll mark the bad boards, then measure and cut new boards by hand. Maybe there are screws rather than nails. That wouldn’t make too much noise.” He opened the door, then turned back. “Besides, with the beard and hat, I look like every other guy in this valley. If you stay inside, no one will notice me.”
Deb rolled her eyes. “I’m sure they’ve got pictures of you. Plus, that helicopter probably has the latest and greatest cameras.”
He held up a hand. “The minute I hear a helo, I’ll come inside. Warn me if you hear one.” He closed the door firmly.
