Cabin by the Lake

THERESA

I quickly settle into a comfortable routine. I spend my days scouting around outside the cabin. I hike the trails and find one that leads to a lake, which I swim in often. I also drive into the town to pick up supplies every now and then.

I’m correct about the town; it’s really small. I can walk from one edge to the other and not take long at all. There’s a general store, gas station, and post office. Just enough to get you by until you can get someplace else. Wherever that may be.

I’m surprised that the gas station has a pizza place inside. Well, they sell more than just pizza: wings, pasta, salad, subs, and even steaks. And the station sells beer and ice cream, not that I can buy beer. The people are friendly, too, which is a change in pace that I enjoy.

I spend my nights in the hot tub on the patio that I failed to notice that first day, and the satellite TV and massive stash of movies keep me entertained. The first month passes smoothly.

After washing off in the large walk-in shower, I comb out my hair and stick my earbuds in. I walk to the bedroom and drop my towel to put on lotion, humming and dancing to the song as I do.

I turn toward the closet and nearly jump out of my skin when I notice a man standing at the top of the stairs. “What the hell?” I pop out my earbuds and scramble to find my towel. “Who are you?”

“Mitch. You must be Theresa.” He’s leaning against the railing and smiling, no shame as he looks at me in all my naked glory.

I finally find my towel and cover myself. “What are you doing here?”

His head jerks back. “This is my cabin. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“I was told this would be my cabin for the summer.”

“Yeah”—he inhales sharply through his teeth—“there’s been some miscommunication. You see, this is my home for the summer as well.” He smirks at me.

I clutch the towel to my chest. “What? The note only said that you would be stopping by.”

“The maid wrote that note. And she’s new, so she doesn’t know that I spend my summers up here.”

“Can’t you stay in the main cabin?” Panic tints my words as I think about what I’ll do if he kicks me out. I’ve grown fond of this cabin, and I want to stay.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Nope,” he says, popping the p. “That is strictly for my parents, and this is the only guest cabin they have.”

I look down to think and see he set his bags at the foot of the bed. Shit, I think. ~Guess I’m calling Ronald in the morning to pick me up. ~

Then he says, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

I huff, knowing I can’t fight this. Then I remember I’m still in my towel. “Can I put some clothes on now?”

He shrugs and smirks again. “If you must.” He turns and walks down the stairs.

I dress and head downstairs, but I don’t see him, so I go straight to the kitchen to make something to eat. It was just going to be a sandwich, but since he’s here, I guess I’ll make something for the both of us. Chicken and broccoli alfredo is my go-to.

I finish cooking and pull the garlic bread out of the oven when he walks through the back door.

“You can cook?” He looks at me with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Yes.” I hand him a plate. “Why are you surprised?”

“Just figured you had staff for that.” He fills his plate and sits at the table.

“We do at home.” I sit across from him. “That’s who taught me.” I get a better look at him and suddenly feel self-conscious about not putting on makeup.

He is gorgeous and as perfectly groomed as a rich kid should be. He pushes his golden hair back from his forehead, and his eyes, which match the mahogany floors, look at his plate. I watch as his full lips open to take a bite, and I smile when he doesn’t react.

At least he’s not disgusted by it.

“Not bad. Thanks for cooking,” he says.

“No problem.” I push the food around on my plate. I don’t want to ask if he plans to kick me out, but I must. “So, do you want me to leave tomorrow?”

He looks up at me and cocks his head, the dim overhead light accentuating the angles of his face. “No. Why?”

“Well, if this is your summer place, I didn’t think you’d want company.” I take a bite of chicken.

He waves off my words. “This place is big enough for the both of us. If you want to stay, then stay.”

I smile and nod my head. “So then, where do you plan on sleeping?”

“In the bed.” His answer comes quickly. “The couch is incredibly uncomfortable.” He looks over my shoulder to the living room.

“Fine. I’ll take it.”

He smirks. “You’ll regret it in the morning.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

We finish the meal in silence, and then Mitch heads upstairs. I clean up, put the leftovers away, and settle on the couch. I fall asleep watching television.

***

I have the worst sleep ever; the couch is hard as a rock, and I keep waking to get comfortable. Groaning, I finally give up and open my eyes. The sun is low, but it’s up, and the smell of coffee suddenly fills the cabin. I follow it to the kitchen.

“Morning. Sleep well?” Mitch hands me a cup.

“Uh-huh.”

“Sit down. I’ll make breakfast.”

“You can cook?” I playfully imitate him from last night.

He smiles at me and turns back to the stove. Within minutes he sets a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast in front of me. He then sits across from me with his own plate.

I rub out the cricks in my neck, then stretch my back in the chair.

He chuckles. “I told you that couch was uncomfortable.” He smiles at me again.

“Yeah, it’s not great,” I say and take a bite. “Mmm. Not bad. Thanks for cooking.” This time, my imitation isn’t intentional.

We eat in silence for a minute before he breaks it. “Do you always spend your summers alone?”

His question catches me off guard. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugs. “Our parents are friends, and mine are no different from yours.” He looks at me with sad eyes. “They always leave me alone too.”

I take comfort in his comment, in knowing that sons are treated no differently than daughters. But I shrug off the growing hurt in my heart. “Easier than dealing with me.”

He shakes his head and looks like he wants to argue against my point, but I want to change the subject. To take the focus off me.

“So what about you? Do you have someone to spend your summers with? A girlfriend?” I play it cool and take a bite of sausage.

“No one worth bringing home.”

This is the answer I was hoping for. It encourages me to ask more questions. “How old are you?”

He takes the last bite of his breakfast. “Twenty-one. You?”

“Eighteen. I start college this fall.” I finish too and stand to collect our plates.

“Oh yeah? Where? What for?” He turns to face me as I put the dishes in the dishwasher.

“NYU, prelaw.” I pour us both another coffee and stand at the kitchen counter.

“Really?” His words carry that surprised tone again.

I react defensively. I hear that tone all the time when I tell people about my major. “Yes, really. What, you thought I’d study fashion or some shit like that?”

Shaking his head, he holds his hands up in front of him. “No, no. I’m surprised because that’s where I go.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment burns my cheeks, but the pain in my back overpowers it. I twist and stretch my back, then say, “I think I’m going to relax in the hot tub for a while. Thanks again for breakfast.” I head toward the stairs to the loft.

“The hot tub is that way,” Mitch says from the table.

I stop and look back. “I know that. I’m grabbing a towel and my bathing suit.”

He raises an eyebrow at me and gives me a devious smile. “Why? I’ve already seen you naked.”

I roll my eyes and continue to the loft. I put on my suit, grab a towel, and go to the tub. As soon as I sink into it, my muscles relax. I spend the majority of the day in and out of the hot tub.

“Care to go get something to eat with me?” Mitch says in the late afternoon.

“At the gas station?” I could eat pizza.

“If you want, but I was thinking someplace a little nicer.” He smiles.

“Sure. Let’s go,” I say.

I get out of the tub, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me as I dry myself. Then I walk back to the loft to change, feeling his gaze burning holes in my body.

My stomach flutters at the thought of spending the evening with him, then the flutter moves lower as I think about the night’s sleeping arrangements.

I cannot spend another night on that couch.