Lauren Martin hiked painfully up the snowy mountainside. After twisting her ankle a few paces back, she was in a foul mood. She flipped back her long black hair and gritted her teeth. She continued up the unfamiliar terrain, hoping to see the lodge everyone said was at the peak of Snowball Mountain. The mountain was living up to its name, with periodic showers of snowballs raining down upon her. She was damp from the constant snow, hungry, and exhausted. She knew she should have gone with someone else, a more experienced hiker, but she had wanted to reach the top alone.
Lauren was on her vacation in Tennessee's Smoky Mountains. With all the conceivable paths covered by thick snow, she wasn't sure if she was on the correct trail or not. She had a sneaking suspicion in the back of her mind that somewhere along the line she had veered off the path. The thought nagged sickeningly in her head. She trudged on, shielding her eyes from the snow, looking for the elusive Snowcap Lodge, approximately a mile and a fifth from the base of the mountain. She stopped and looked for a place to sit and get her bearings. She found a long- dead stump and cleared over seven inches of snow. She consulted her watch and noted with a small frission of annoyance that it had frosted over. She wiped her finger over it and realized that she didn't have much time to reach the lodge.
Almost an hour later Lauren was ready to collapse. The storm had picked up, and it was nearly blinding her. She squinted into the horizon and saw something that was large and dark within the trees. With renewed hope, she began limping up the mountainside. As she approached, she realized that it must be a lodge, although to her it looked more like a cabin. She tried to hurry the last few yards and went to the door of the log structure. She turned the doorknob, and, although it was unlocked, felt it stick. She put the last of her strength to use and shoved her shoulder into it. The door burst open and she tumbled into the room. She stood and shut the door behind her.
This was a nice lodge, but small. It looked so much like someone's personal cabin. The fact that there were no personal effects lying around encouraged her. The structure had a spacious room that seemed to serve as its kitchen, bedroom, and living room. There was a log bed built into the wall on the right hand side of the room, with the kitchen area and table to the left. The bed had a partition built onto the head and foot of the bed, giving the sleeper the feel of a room. The living area was situated around a fireplace with a couch, armchair, and side table. There were two windows, one on the right wall and one on the left, overlooking the trees. A few fuzzy blankets were folded on the couch and on the bed, ready for use. A small door led into a woodsy bathroom with a sink, shower, and toilet. She checked the water. It ran freely, and became hot. She smiled to herself. She went into the great room and piled her belongings on the kitchen table. She stripped off her wet outer garments and stood in her dry sweater and boots.
The room was chilly and next to the fireplace was an ample supply of firewood. She went over and put some logs into the fireplace and lit them with a long match she found in a holder. She got her shampoo, conditioner, and soap and went into the bathroom. She pulled off her remaining clothes and stepped into the shower. She took a long hot soak, and emerged feeling refreshed. She wrapped her slim body in the towel and went back to get her sweats.
She toweled her hair and hung the towels to dry. She grabbed some of the blankets from the couch and went to the bed. There were hunter green flannel sheets on the bed, and she was so tired that she didn't care if they were clean. She spread the blankets on the bed and tucked in the corners. She slid into bed, and pulled the covers to her chin. It was funny... she could smell a man's cologne on the sheets. It smelled good. She turned on her side, facing the wall, and fell to sleep almost immediately.
Tom Sharp was on his way to his cabin. In ten years, he had never accomplished something that meant as much to him as building that cabin on the private side of Snowball Mountain. No one bothered him, because the public trails were on the opposite side of the mountain. He sped up his hiking and made good time to his favorite retreat. He got to where he could make out the form of the cabin and smiled. He rushed up the hillside, keeping it in sight. The smile fell from his lips as he realized that there were tendrils of smoke curling from his chimney.
He ran from where he was standing. He slowed when he reached the door. He never left it locked, because no one even knew the cabin existed, except for him. He slowly opened the door, his hand reaching for the .38 he kept for protection on the mountain. He moved inside, and shut the door quietly behind him. He saw a backpack on the kitchen table and clothes drying by the fire. He didn't hear anything, and moved towards the bed. He peeked around the privacy partitions and saw a form huddled under the covers. He sighed and put his gun back in its holster. He poked the sleeping form.
"Hey, who are you? Why are you in my cabin?" he demanded loudly. The person rolled over. It was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She opened luminous crystal green eyes wide, and blinked. She sat up.
"I thought this was the lodge," she stammered. He looked at her incredulously.
"Does this look like a lodge?" he countered.
"I didn't know, this is my first time hiking this mountain. The people at the base told me that there was a lodge at the top called the Snowcap Lodge. I thought this was it." He laughed. As he laughed, she began to take him in. He was huge and over six feel tall. He was a sandy blonde with deep, sparking chocolate brown eyes. He was wearing a ski outfit and dangled sunglasses in his long fingers.
"Number one, this is not the lodge. This is my cabin. Number two, you are only three-quarters of the way up the mountain and are on the opposite side of where you would like to be. You definitely took a wrong turn," he said in his deep voice. She stood in front of him.
"I'm sorry, Mr...," she said.
"Sharp. Tom Sharp. You can call me Tom," he said, reaching out his hand. She shook it as if it were a dead fish. "And you are...?"
"I'm Lauren Martin. Not that it matters, because I am leaving. I am sorry to have confused your cabin with the lodge. I'll be out of here in five minutes," she said standoffishly. "The storm isn't that bad."
She began to move toward her now-dry outerwear. The first step she took on her twisted ankle made her cry out involuntarily and stumble. Tom reached out to catch her. He caught he just before she hit the floor. He lifted her back to her feet.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm fine," she snapped. She began to limp painfully over to her clothes.
"Look, " he said, "the storm is that bad. You obviously cannot walk without a lot of pain, and it will be dark in a matter of minutes. It would take you another two, three hours to go back around the mountain and then up. Why don't you stay here for the night, rest, and then go in the morning."
"No, thank you. I didn't mean to intrude. I just made a rookie mistake, so I'm going to correct it by leaving. I appreciate your hospitality," she said, picking up her coat. She started to walk back to the table to put it with the rest of her stuff when she stepped down heavily on her injured ankle. Tom saw her bite her lip to keep from whimpering, but he thought he saw a tear slide out of the corner of her eye.
"Okay, that does it. You're staying here." He went over to her and lifted her into his arms. She began to protest.
"Hey, put me down. I'm fine," she said, struggling. He put her down on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, coming back with some Ace bandages and tape. He knelt at her feet and took the sock off her right foot. He began to probe it gently with his fingers. When he hit the injured spot, he heard her draw in a sharp breath.
"Yes, you've definitely sprained this," he said, wrapping the bandage around her ankle.
"How would you know?" she asked waspishly. He looked up at her.
"I specialize in sports medicine," he said. This shut her up and she let his large, veined hands finish wrapping her ankle. He taped it securely and replaced her sock.
