Page 85 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
Standing from the rock, I started pacing. It wasn’t ideal, but if staying at the outpost was dangerous, I didn’t want to take an unnecessary risk. I’d reached my lifetime quota of those already. So house arrest was my only option.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
He stood and smiled. “Look on the bright side. I’ll get to see you every day.”
I smiled back. “Definitely a pro. What else do you have for me?”
“You’ll have complete control over the TV remote when I’m at work. Weekends are reserved for football, but if there isn’t a game on, it can be ladies’ choice.”
“We’re going to have a problem with that, Goliath. Me and sports? Oil and water. Tequila and good decisions. Cell phones and toilet water.”
Beau leaned back and let out a roaring laugh, yanking me into his side for a tight hug. I started laughing too, staring up at his jaw now covered with his new beard. It felt so good to just let my laughter loose. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard my sides ached and I had to force myself to stop so the stitches would go away.
When our combined noise was no longer echoing off the trees, Beau leaned down for another chaste kiss.
“You’ve got a talent for making me smile, Sabrina.”
My cheeks flushed. “Same to you, Beau.”
“Come on.” He bent and kissed my forehead. “Let’s get back.”
My outpost adventure was coming to an end. If anyone had asked me five and a half months ago if I’d be sad to leave, I would have called them crazy. Beau was right; staying here alone in the winter wasn’t safe, but I wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye yet.
“Beau?” I called after we’d hiked halfway back.
He paused on the trail and looked over his shoulder.
“Can I have one more week at the outpost?”
“Sure.” He smiled and turned to keep walking.
I smiled too, knowing that I was going to make the most of the time I had left.
My last week at the outpost had been spent writing.
I’d set aside the novel I’d been working on to start something new. This book wasn’t going to be a romance like the others I’d written, and though it was fictional, the story had a strong resemblance to my last five and a half months in Montana.
I’d taken my time with the beginning on this one, carefully crafting the novel’s cabin setting. If I never had the chance to come back to the outpost, I wanted a written memory. I didn’t want to risk forgetting what it smelled like or how the soft yellow lights created the perfect evening glow. I didn’t want to forget the seventies kitchen and my closet bathroom.
And now I never would.
Safely saved on my laptop, I had the words that would bring me back here whenever I needed the escape.
“Sabrina,” Beau called from outside.
“Be right there!” I zipped the backpack carrying my computer and my letters from Felicity and set it on the floor next to the duffel bag already packed with my clothes. Then I headed outside, glancing around the nearly empty room as I walked.
My cot, the TV and my food tubs were all loaded into Beau’s truck. I still needed to pack up the contents of the refrigerator into a cooler and my personal belongings needed to be hauled outside, but other than that, the outpost looked more like it had the night I’d arrived than the home it had been a day ago.
“What’s up?” I asked Beau.
“I’m going to shut off the water pump on the well. Do you need to use the bathroom one last time?”
“Yes!” I yelled, running back inside. I may have learned to love my outpost but there was no way in hell I was setting foot back in the biffy again. One experience in an outhouse had been one too many.
I finished my packing and cleaned out the fridge, then did a final sweep of the floor while Beau loaded the last items into the truck.
“Do you want to take one last walk with me?” he asked.
