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“Well, I best be heading, it’s been a long day and what not. Good to see ye, Eric. Ye looking…” He seemed to try and find the words and flexed his muscles instead. “Ye know, as giant as ever.”
At that, I did offer a smirk, one that seemed to intimidate him even further. He waved as he all but ran toward his truck. As soon as he threw it out of park, he reversed halfway down the mountain at a speed he hadn’t come in on.
I let out a whistle, scratching Shadow on the head, who hadn’t left my side. “Let’s get to work.”
Chapter 3
Cassidy
Seven hours into my drive, with plenty of scenic stops and photos taken on the way, I stopped into a small lake town called Rosefield about an hour before reaching the Canadian border. In another two days, breaking up the trip with long enough stops, I should be happily lodging at my friend’s ski resort, sipping on Mimosas. As great as that sounded, I still had a ways to go, and I’d been on edge driving the entire way so far. The snow hadn’t stopped since the moment I’d left Manhattan.
I appeared to be driving down what looked to be Rosefield’s quaint main street and, with closer inspection, their only street that had any shops or services. I pulled over in front of what looked like their local café, noticing the little sign that read “open.” I stepped out of the car, immediately frostbitten by the cold. The depth of the snow worsened the further out of Manhattan I drove, and this small town was certainly no exception. Looking down the main street there wasn’t much in this town and I wondered if they got a few tourists in the summer because of the lake and mountains I’d been driving alongside for the better half of an hour now.
I held myself tightly as I walked into the small café, immediately relieved by the fire crackling and warmth that hit me. The café had a couple of retro red booths and singular barstools along the counter. A woman with beautiful red curly hair greeted me with a smile as she looked me up and down. I definitely did not look like a local. I self-consciously adjusted my designer jacket.
I froze the moment I saw the huge looking wolf that barked and ran for me. I squealed closing my eyes and throwing my hands up. My heart pounded. But nothing happened. Slowly, I peeled one eye open and then the next. A cold chill ran down my spine. Oh God. It was sniffing my shoes. Oh God, was it going to pee on them? Please don’t pee on them.
The redhead now seemed a lot more interested as she leaned over the counter. “You friendly with dogs?” she asked with a slight Californian accent.
I tried to smile through it. “Ummm, friendly isn’t a term I would use. But perhaps unfamiliar with them.”
She chuckled and called out to someone in the back. “Hey, boss man, your dog’s harassing a customer.”
Two older ladies sitting in one of the booths stared in bewilderment, their jaws dropped in shock.
“Is it legal to keep wolves as pets in this town?” I squeaked.
“He’s a German shepherd,” a robust voice growled. An even colder shiver washed over me. My eyes almost bulged at the sight of the ginormous man that stepped out from the kitchen. How the actual fuck did anyone grow to six foot six and the width of a doorframe. I was guessing he was in his late thirties. His green eyes narrowed on me, a thick black beard and eyebrows covering what might’ve been an attractive face. Not to say he wasn’t with the beard… but it covered a lot. And I wasn’t so used to seeing men with full-grown beards in Manhattan. He whistled, the dog immediately returning to his owner’s side.
“And he doesn’t go to anyone but Eric,” the redheaded woman beamed with a smile. “My, my, my, ego must be rather bruised right now, huh?” She pressed the tongue inside her cheek as he gave her an effective look. I gulped, terrified. The woman only found it more amusing.
“What are you in for, hun?” she called out. “A cup of joe for the road? Flat tire? Wood?”
Disheveled from the confrontation with the dog and the modern-day version of the Hulk walking through the door, I tried to muster my thoughts and pulled down on my pink marshmallow-looking jacket. I tucked back some of my hair, feeling significantly out of place. “Umm do you do any types of juices here?”
She politely mulled over a smile, although I could tell she was trying not to laugh.
“We’ve got orange juice. A whole big bottle for the trip if you’re willing to pay the right price for it.” She winked.
I smiled politely. “Um just a glass will do, and can I use your bathroom?”
“Straight through that way,” she said, pointing. I noticed the smirk she offered the tower of a man. He stood with his hands strapped across his chest, staring at me walking away and brooding the entire time.
The bathroom was, well, as expected at a place like this. And I’d been in far worse predicaments on a night out in Manhattan, especially after someone had vomited. I pulled my phone out to text my friend Alice in Canada, checking in that I was safe and going to find a hotel to stay in for the night. I wasn’t a confident enough driver, especially on these snowy and wet roads. And now that it was turning dark, I wasn’t going to risk gray hairs over it. I’d been driving like a grandma the entire time, my knuckles turning white over the steering wheel as I considered my demise every time I hit a corner in the mountain range. I cursed under my breath when my cell appeared to have no reception.
I finished up applying lip gloss and then ducked my head out the door. When I peered down, the great big hulk’s beast of a dog was standing outside the door, tail wagging.
I grimaced. Shit. I was cornered. “Umm, hi.” I curtly nodded and tried to swoosh it away. My experience with animals was near to zilch. Anything with fangs was in the “not to be trusted basket.”
“Yo, Eric, your dog has the poor girl cornered in the bathroom,” the redhead called out. I tsked, embarrassed that I’d been spotted but also grateful that someone would save me. I heard the grumpy man grumble and a whistle drew away the dog’s attention again.
A sigh escaped me. “Thank you.” I curtly nodded as I readjusted my handbag.
“We don’t get a lot of your type out here,” the older lady in the booth said to me as I walked past them with a smile.
“Type?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. I’d received various names in the past, known for my party-girl habits, but these women didn’t even know me.
“The pretty kind,” her friend crooned.
