17 - Jack

17

Jack

“You’re in the red cabin,” I explained, placing the color-coordinated key on the counter in front of me. “Follow the path behind this building until it curves to the left. Your cabin is the first one. Check-out is at noon.”

“Is the cabin numbered?” the guest asked. He looked like a tech bro from California who had never been above sea level. “There’s no number on this key.”

Gritting my teeth, I replied, “The cabin is red. It’s impossible to miss.”

The guy stared at me like it still didn’t make sense, but then he thankfully hefted his bag and left the office. I sighed with relief that I was done socializing for the morning.

“Hi!” said the next person in line, a college-aged girl with purple hair. “I’m staying in one of the primitive campsites this weekend, but I was wondering if any of the cabins are available.”

“Sorry, we’re all booked.”

She winced. “I was afraid of that. Is there a waiting list or anything? I’d really like to upgrade, if possible.”

I grabbed a pen and scribbled a note on my notepad. “We do have a wait list. I’ll add your name.”

She flashed a grateful smile. “Thanks a bunch!”

As soon as she was gone, I tore the sheet of paper off the notepad, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the trash. There was no wait list. Why would there be a wait list? I had seven cabins, and they were presently occupied. It wasn’t like someone was going to magically disappear in the next two days.

I never wanted to own a business like this. I preferred manual labor, working with my hands. Customer service wasn’t my strong suit, especially when dealing with idiots. And since this place had opened, I had discovered that the vast majority of people in the world were idiots.

Fortunately, most customers appreciated my brusque attitude as part of the experience of camping in the mountains. Or maybe they didn’t, but I couldn’t bring myself to care enough to worry about it.

But it could be worse. Being a small business owner gave me a lot of freedom. I didn’t have a boss. I could make my own schedule, disappearing into the mountains when I picked up one-off contracts to clear fire roads or maintain hiking trails for the Colorado Parks Department.

The door opened, and the purple-haired girl returned. “Hi! Sorry to bother you again…”

God damnit.

“…but I just checked online and it says you have one cabin free.” She held up her phone screen like it was the clinching piece of evidence in a trial.

“I can assure you, I do not.”

“It says it’s the Indigo Cabin,” she continued. “That’s the sixth one. There hasn’t been a car parked there, and I haven’t seen anyone inside.”

Right. The cabin I’d given to Melissa.

“What website is that?” I asked.

“Expedia.”

“They must have the wrong information. The Indigo Cabin is occupied. Thank you.”

“It’s just, since I haven’t seen anyone there…”

“ Thank you ,” I said a little more forcefully. She looked like she wanted to argue some more, but then left me in peace.

I shook my head when she was gone. I hated customer service. When we built this place, Sam was supposed to take care of all the customer-facing bullshit while I handled everything behind the scenes. Look how that turned out.

When the purple-haired girl didn’t come back for a third time, I grabbed a bag of cat food and went outside to refill the bowls on the front porch. The sound of dry kibble being poured was like ringing a dinner bell; cats emerged from underneath cars and behind trees, all heading straight for me like they did every morning.

I glanced toward the cabins. I hadn’t seen Melissa all morning. She was usually up by now—not that I stalked her or anything, but as the owner of this place I unconsciously kept track of all my guests’ habits. I’d stayed up drinking on the porch late last night, and she never came home. Maybe her date with Noah went so well that they stayed out after dinner.

Or maybe it went so well that they…

I shook my head. I wasn’t going to go down that line of thinking. Not with a fucking stranger, which was what she was to me.

Busying myself with all the chores and tasks around the campgrounds helped take my mind off her. There was always something to do, a list that remained endless no matter how many items I crossed off. Ah, the joys of self-employment.

I was restocking the firewood outside the office when Noah’s car drove up. Melissa was in the passenger seat. I tried to act like I didn’t notice, but I repositioned myself to the side of the wood pile to give myself a viewing angle.

Melissa had a towel wrapped around her waist, and the only thing covering her upper half was a blue bikini top. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she laughed at something Noah said, genuine joy plastered all over her beautiful face. I knew she was attractive from the moment I had stumbled upon her on the Colorado Trail, but it was a totally different experience seeing her half-naked. Her slender waist, the perky breasts that bounced enticingly as she hopped out of the car and closed the door. Hair dark with moisture, hanging down her bare back…

Stop it. Get a fucking hold of yourself .

I turned away from them and busied myself with the pile of firewood. But I was still within earshot.

“Thanks for the wonderful date,” she told him. “Even though you pushed me in the water.”

“I did no such thing!” Noah replied. “You fell in all on your own.”

“You told me to stand up in the kayak before jumping out!”

“It was implied that you should do it carefully! I didn’t realize you’d immediately fall over.”

They laughed together, and then abruptly went silent. I stole a glance in their direction.

His arms were around her, and they were kissing.

The flood of jealousy I felt shocked me. It was a physical thing, like acid flowing through my veins. Abandoning the rest of the firewood, I went inside the office.

Noah came through the door soon after that. He was by himself. “Jackie! Busy day today?”

“No busier than usual,” I said casually.

Noah hesitated in the doorway, then came around the side of the desk and sat in the guest chair. “I know you saw us.”

“Tough not to, with your hands all over each other in the middle of camp.”

Noah ran a hand through his blond hair and sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About how you ignored my advice and took that girl out on a date, which apparently went well? No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Seems like you do.”

“I don’t think you know what I want.”

“I don’t think you know what you want,” Noah insisted. He was forceful, but not rude. “You’ve been floating around like a ghost since Sam left. Pouring yourself into the work here at the campsite and insisting that you’re fine.”

“I am fine,” I tried to interrupt, but Noah kept talking over me.

“If you like that girl, you should say something. You had plenty of opportunities to do so, and instead, you tried to convince me that it’s a bad idea.”

“Because it is a fucking bad idea!” I snapped. “She’s here for a week and then she’s resuming her hike. And when that’s done, she’s going back to Toledo-fucking-Ohio. There’s no point getting involved with a girl like that.”

“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“And it sounds like you haven’t.”

“I’ve given it plenty of thought,” Noah said carefully. “I think through everything I do. But at some point, you have to stop thinking and actually live life.”

He stood up and stabbed a finger toward me.

“Maybe if you stopped overthinking things, you could pursue what you want in life.” The accusation hung in the air, and Noah’s tone softened. “Sam’s gone, Jackie. She’s been gone. You seem like you want to move on, picking up strays and putting yourself out there emotionally, but then you get scared and put your walls up.”

“I’m not scared—”

Noah held up a hand to stop me. “You don’t need to convince me, Jackie. You need to convince yourself.”

He held my gaze a few seconds longer, then left the office.

Noah wasn’t a blunt person, so his comments rattled me.

And, deep down, I knew he was right.