Page 15 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Wife
It doesn’t take long to pack the leftovers away and put them in the fridge. Next I fill the sink with soapy water. Felix isn’t a messy cook and I’ve got the dishes washed, dried, and put away in no time. I glance around to check nothing else needs cleaning before pulling the plug.
A quick sweep through the cabin and I’ve tidied up, straightened pillows, and neatly folded a blanket. With nothing else to do, I head back to the bedroom to get dressed for the day. I’ll need to wear layers so I can go outside and help Felix.
Even if the only thing I can do is carry some logs inside, I’m determined to be useful and help him prepare for the coming storm.
FELIX
Sweat coats my face and makes my shirt stick to my chest and back.
I need a shower.
But first I need to do what I’ve put off doing since I came outside this morning.
Call Uncle Granger.
I don’t have much time left to do it either. Above me the clouds are heavy with snow, and the wind picked up from a light leaf tickling breeze this morning to the fast branch snapping gusts whipping around me now.
I’ve lived here long enough to know when a storm is imminent. We’ve probably got another half an hour before it’s on us, maybe less, and I want to make sure we have enough wood for a few days before I stop.
I glance into the shed, at the pile of split logs, and debate moving more of them to the porch for only a second before I curse under my breath.
I’m procrastinating and I know it.
I’m not looking forward to calling my uncle because he’s going to have questions and I don’t want to answer any of them.Most of the ones I think he’ll ask are ones I don’t know the answers to anyway.
Blowing out a breath, I reach up and rip the tie from my hair only to have the wind lash the long strands across my face.
“Fuck.”
Gathering it back up, I swirl it into a bun and secure it with the elastic again. I’m just lowering my hands when the phone in my back pocket vibrates. Fishing it out, I turn the screen toward me and see the name of the man I need to call. Not that I expect anyone else to be calling me.
Hell, I don’t think anyone other than Uncle Granger even has my number.
Pushing out another harsh breath, I turn around and sit my ass on the woodblock as I hit answer and bring the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“Everything all right up there?”
My spine straightens, my eyes darting around the clearing. “Yeah. Why?”
“Once this storm gets going, we’ll be cut off for a few days. Wanted to check you didn’t need anything before it’s too late.”
“I’m good. Just finished splitting some logs.”
“Need more?”
“No.”
Neither of us speaks for a good half a minute before he says, “Felix,” in a low grumble I know well.
My uncle has made a study of all my moods since the accident. He knows what every one of my silences means and I’m not surprised he’s picked up on my pensive mood. But I can’t let his concern derail the reason I wanted to call him even if he did reach out before I could. “Do you still have my truck?”
“Yeah.” I can hear the caution in his voice. “I told you I wouldn’t sell it until you asked me to.”
“Does it work?” Riley will need transportation when she leaves, she may as well get use out of it. I have no intention of driving on a road again.
“Of course. No point keeping it if it’s not running.” Ever practical, I should have known Uncle Granger wouldn’t just hold on to it for me—he’d take care of it.
“After the weather clears, can you bring it over?”
