Stuck for the Holidays

Shaylee

Of all the things that could've killed me, serial killers, burglars…hell, the flu! I would never have expected my end to be caused by a patch of black ice on a country road while driving home for the holidays. I can’t even pinpoint exactly where I am, but I figure it doesn’t really matter since, at the rate the snow is coming down, no one will find me till the snow melts in the spring. I guess it’s not the worst thing in the world. Losing me will be less tragic for my family than losing one of my sisters, you know, the two sisters who are successful in every aspect of their lives?

I know I should be trying to stay positive, focus on surviving, but what’s the point? Since my car won’t start, it’s already starting to get cold and I already contemplated my chances of climbing back up to the road, but it’s too steep to climb and with the snow, it’ll be too slippery too. It’s okay though, really it is. I’m stuck and I accept that fact.

Already wearing three layers of clothes, I curl into the driver seat and wait...I'm not exactly sure what I'm waiting for though. Death? A magical rescue? Death himself to show up and steal my soul? I don’t know what I expected the grim reaper to look like, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t prepared for him to look like a man on a horse…wearing a cowboy hat and a duster. I knew watching all those old western movies with my grandpa would come back to haunt me, I just hadn’t realized it would be in my final hour.

“Ma’am? Are you hurt?” Damn, death has a sexy as hell deep voice!

“Nope. Just testing my car’s offroad abilities. It’s a ten out of ten would not recommend!” His deep chuckle is so soothing and I have to admit, if this is the way it all ends, I’m actually not too upset about it.

“Give me a minute and I’ll get you out of there.” Death is one crazy bastard! It’s a lot warmer in here than it is out there!

“Oh, I can get out, but it’s too cold out there.” He chuckles again and pulls open the driver’s side door, letting the icy wind blow snow into my cold, metal coffin.

“Come on, I don’t live far and there’s a fire and a cup of coffee in it for you.” What the hell, might as well! Coffee with death, death dressed as a sexy as sin cowboy no less, does sound inviting.

“Alright, but this is not how I pictured dying.” I finally get a good look at the man and I have to admit, he’s not what I imagined. Under his cowboy hat is a man I would guess to be in his late twenties, early thirties with what looks to be dark brown hair and golden honey colored eyes with a stubble lined jaw. He’s ruggedly handsome, even with his brow arched while he looks at me like I’m a crazy woman.

He helps me climb onto the horse that looks much bigger up close then climbs on behind me and takes off through a snow-covered field. We ride through the snow and wind for about fifteen minutes before reaching a decent sized cabin nestled in the trees with soft orange light glowing in the windows.

“Let me get you situated and then I need to get Trigger back in the stable.” He helps me off the horse then leads me inside where I’m immediately drawn toward the roaring fire in the living room. I’m thankful for his hardwood floors because I would hate to piss off the reaper by getting snow on his carpet. He walks back out the door and leaves me in front of the fire while he heads out to tend to his horse. I can’t believe the reaper has a damn horse!

I must've dozed off because the feeling of something cold and wet on my forehead makes my body jolt and my eyes fly open to see the cowboy, who's clearly not death, holding a wet washcloth in his hand while staring down at me with a soft smile on his handsome face.

“Sorry if I startled you. I thought I should clean the blood off your head at the very least. It looks like you hit it pretty hard. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” I sit up and groan as I feel every one of my muscles protest the movement.

“I think so. Crazy question, but where am I?” I see his brow furrow with worry and he glances around the cabin then looks back at me.

“We’re in my cabin out in Shelby County. You went off the road out by mile marker twenty. I already tried calling for help, but the lines are down.” Damn, still about an hour out from my parents’ place.

“Well, I’m sure this isn’t how you planned to spend your evening, but I appreciate you saving me. I’m pretty sure I was already hallucinating by the time you showed up because I was pretty convinced you were the grim reaper.” He chuckles and rakes his hand through his dark brown hair.

“Well, I’ve never been called that before. Would you really be so willing to get on a horse with the grim reaper?” I shrug and flash him a playful smile.

“Well, staying in the car would be certain death, so the reaper sounded like the better alternative.” He stands up and offers his hand, his very large hand, and I happily accept it. Once I’m on my feet, he heads into the kitchen with me following behind him until I reach the breakfast nook where I take a seat. My legs are still a little unsteady after everything, though the gorgeous cowboy certainly isn't helping matters any.

“So, do you have family or anyone that might be worried if you don’t show up tonight?” He turns to look at me, so I shake my head.

“No, not tonight. I was supposed to get a room for the night and head over there tomorrow evening, not that they’d be likely to notice if I don’t show up at all, if I'm being honest.” He slides over a mug of coffee and leans on the other side of the counter.

“Why do you think that?” I grab the mug and cradle it between my hands for warmth as I prepare to explain my sad sob story.

“I guess I’m kind of the black sheep of the family. My sisters both live close to my parents, have jobs that pay well, husbands who are equally successful and they’re growing their families while maintaining their runway model appearance. When it comes to me, I’m the complete opposite. I’m a struggling artist, I’m divorced and I don’t have any kids or anywhere close to the perfect body. In my parents’ eyes, I’m the definition of failure.” I take my first sip of the coffee and moan in appreciation.

“You look awful young to be divorced.” Not exactly an uncommon reaction when I reveal my marital status and it's exactly the thought I had when I filed the divorce papers.

“I’m twenty-four, got married when I was twenty. Married for all the wrong reasons and divorced a year later for all the right ones.” He nods and lifts his own mug to his lips.

“Sounds to me like you’re still too young to be expected to be married, have started on a family and be successful too. I assume your sisters are older?” I smile and nod.

“They are. I’m the youngest. My sister Sally is twenty-nine and Beth is thirty-one. How about you? Any crazy siblings, ex’s or overbearing parents?” He chuckles and lowers his head, shaking it slowly.

“No, I’m an only child and my parents passed a few years ago. As for ex’s, I’m a widower. My wife passed about three years ago now.” I try not to let my surprise show, but I’m pretty damn sure I fail.

“Wow, I’m so sorry I brought it up. I feel like an ass now.” He waves his hand dismissively and flashes his killer smile.

“No, it’s alright, really. Don’t apologize for wanting to know about the person you’re stuck in a cabin with. Ask anything you want.” I take a moment to think and decide he’s right. If I’m stuck here with him, might as well get to know him.

“Alright, let’s start with basics. What’s your name?” His smile widens and his head tilts to the side a little.

“Aiden Caldwell.” Well, that actually kind of suits him.

“Well, Aiden, I’m Shaylee Barrington. How old are you?” His brow arches and he takes another drink of his coffee.

“Thirty-two.” I nod and take a drink, savoring for a moment the warmth as the heat moves down my throat.

“How long have you lived out here by yourself?” He gives me a playful smirk and shifts his weight from his left foot to his right.

“I never said I live alone.” His playful challenge has me inspecting my surroundings, but everything I see definitely points to him living alone.

“Only one pair of boots by the door, one jacket on the coat rack, the pictures I can see show only you and what I assume to be your parents, a single drinking glass by the sink and only one plate in the dish strainer. Either you live alone, or your roommate is Casper.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender then lowers them back to his mug.

“Fair enough. You’re very observant. I’ve lived alone since Tessa passed, those are my parents in the pictures and no, I don’t have a ghost, friendly or otherwise, sharing my house with me. You mentioned that you married your ex for the wrong reasons?” I chuckle at his explanation then sigh at his question. I think saying 'the wrong reasons' is quite an understatement.

“Yeah, we married because it was the logical next step in our relationship and it’s what was expected of us. We had dated for a year, moved in together and I guess we both just figured the most logical thing to do would be to get married and our parents agreed. Unfortunately, marrying him seemed to be the catalyst that led to our relationship thoroughly falling apart. He started staying late at work, going on business trips, you know…code for screwing his secretary. After I caught him in the act, we both agreed to a divorce, much to my parents’ dismay. They’re still convinced that I just didn’t put enough effort into being a good wife to him.” He cringes, but I’m not sure if it’s because of my ex cheating or my parents being upset about me divorcing him for it. I think both are fairly cringeworthy.

“I’m not trying to overstep, but why spend the holidays with a family who makes you feel like crap?” I shrug and let out a heavy sigh.

“Honestly? I go out to see them because they’re the only family I have left and spending the holidays alone sucks. I guess, now that I think about it, it sucks either way…even more than sliding into a ditch in the middle of a snowstorm.” We both chuckle and he gets a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Or being rescued by death and riding with him on a horse in said snowstorm?” I burst out laughing and nod. This guy...oh man, he's going to be trouble for me, I just know it!

“Yeah, sucks way worse than that. At least death isn’t shaping up to be such a bad guy.” He rewards my playful praise with a soul searing smile.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Are you hungry?” Of course, my stomach would decide to answer with an undignified growl before I can even open my mouth which has my cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

“I guess that answers that.” He pushes off the counter and walks over to the fridge then begins rummaging for something to eat.

“How about eggs and bacon? Wait, you eat meat, right?” I burst out laughing and nod. I’m kind of full figured, so I can’t imagine anyone thinking I don’t eat…well…everything I want.

“Yeah, I do. Can’t maintain this figure with salad.” He glances over his shoulder at me with the carton of eggs and the package of bacon in his arms.

“There’s nothing wrong with your figure, Shaylee, and don’t you listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. How many eggs and how do you like them cooked?” God, I hope he can’t see how red my damn cheeks are!

“Two and however you make yours is fine. I’m really not picky as long as they aren’t raw.” His deep rumbling chuckle only makes me blush harder and my stomach does some weird summersault crap that I don't even want to think about right now.

“I like mine over easy. I’ll make some toast too. So, tell me about your art. What kind of artist are you?” Having people show interest in my art isn’t something I’m used to, but damn if it doesn’t feel good.

“I prefer painting and using charcoal to sketch. I have a lot of my supplies in my car. I found that sketching is a good way to ignore the comments and judgement from my family.” I watch as he pauses his movements for a second before bending down to grab a pan out of the cupboard.

“I can safely say that unless by some miracle this storm lets up, you won’t have to worry about ignoring your family this year. I might be able to ride out and get some of your things in the morning though.” I wouldve expected to feel disappointed by the news, but I honestly feel a little relieved.

“Are you sure you can handle being stuck with me through the holidays? I hate that that’s what it is…you being stuck with me, but there’s no other way to look at it, I guess.” He turns to face me and gives me a soft smile, all playfulness long gone.

“I can certainly think of worse ways to spend Christmas. Usually I spend it here alone, so I see it as an improvement on my usual situation.” I feel my cheeks flush, but still manage to offer a smile.

“It’s an improvement for my usual situation too, Aiden.”