On her best day, January couldn’t give half as many fucks about those things as June did. She was shit when it came to doing her hair, pretty much useless with makeup, and she could never find clothing that fit her the way June seemed to find pieces that complimented her curves. After having two kids, those curves were a little bit fuller than they had been years ago, but on her sister, curvy looked extra stunning.

  January thought her curves were less flattering on herself and she’d had zero kids. Jotham had made a few remarks about it over the years, how there was more of her to love. She’d always debated about flipping him the bird, but she’d settled for doing it mentally. She didn’t go to the gym because she hated it, but she did yoga and she swam every other day at one of the pools close to home. She felt fit and she was healthy and that’s what counted. She just wanted to be happy with her body and comfortable in her own skin. She might still be working towards that, but wasn’t it a lifelong process for pretty much everyone?

  Not having a husband around to make snide comments helped. Not that Jotham had made that many. It certainly hadn’t been the reason she divorced him. June had tried to talk to her about some of that, but she’d declined to discuss it and had changed the subject every single time.

  “Fair enough. But you weren’t lying. I’m not in much pain today. It looks beautiful outside.”

  “It’s freezing. You just said that when you went out to pee an hour ago.”

  January shrugged. She leaned back in her chair and tested her leg, putting more weight on it. There were no shooting pains. The dull ache was still there and it was sore, but she counted that as a major improvement. “I have my sweater and my jacket. I’ll survive. You’ve been trapped inside with me for two days. Let’s go out for a walk and enjoy nature. Isn’t that why we’re here?”

  “We can winter camp inside the cabin.”

  “You want a walk. Admit it.”

  The sun was shining. It was coming in strong through the two front windows in the small cabin. The place was open in the living room and kitchen, had a small rudimentary bathroom with a makeshift shower that only worked in the warmer months, and had two bedrooms beyond that—one for the boys and the other for June and Greg. January was sleeping on the bottom bunk in the boy’s room. June tried to give up her bed, but January really didn’t want to sleep in the same bed where her sister and her brother-in-law did the nasty, even if the sheets were clean. The bottom bunk was absolutely fine for her.

  “Your leg really must be feeling better. Good. You can get up every two hours to throw logs on the fire, so we don’t freeze to death.”

  “No way. Glamping was your idea. I’ll stock it before I go to bed and then I’ll get up at like four or five and put logs on. We can split up then, so we only need to interrupt our sleep once.”

  “That’s probably a good idea.”

  January stood up, stretching her arms above her head. They’d been trying to play cards for an hour, but June insisted on playing all the games their family loved, which were all three- and four-player ones. She’d tried to create new ways of playing, but it was just horrible. Even worse, she kept trying to talk about January’s divorce. She hadn’t mentioned Jotham’s name, but she kept edging around the issue. At least outside, January could just turn and outwalk her sister’s curiosity and insistence on fixing her, even though she was just fine and didn’t need fixing.

  That’s what her family couldn’t understand. That she was actually happier. It wasn’t their fault. She hadn’t been able to articulate what was wrong in the first place, so they didn’t believe her when she said she was okay. They just looked at the whole thing and saw a midlife crisis. Or a pending crisis. Maybe they thought she hadn’t gone through the worst of it yet and that’s why they were so worried.

  She walked over to the door and grabbed her coat. “Are you coming? You know you want to. Nice long walks in the frigid cold are great. At least the sun is out. It’s super pretty. That has to count for something.”

  June leaped up. “I thought you were kidding. You’re the one who hates the cold. I’m used to it.”

  “This isn’t real cold. You keep telling me that.”

  “It’s not. It’s Washington cold. It’s not cold like in other states, or up north. At least not usually.”

  January threw on her jacket and zipped it all the way up. She tugged on a knitted beanie in the same bright red and slipped on her leather gloves. They were ugly and ridiculous and probably a man’s set, but she liked them. They were warm and they had good grip. She didn’t like chunky mittens.

  June got dressed for the walk once January had her jacket on. She had a stylish three-quarter length coat that still looked heavy and warm. Her beanie and mitts were black knitted ones with little gemstones on the front and backs. Her boots were designer, whereas January’s were rubber. Her sister was always the stylish one, January did practical.

  “We should be doing this the other way around. You should be coming to Phoenix in the winter to get away, not me coming to the cold.”

  “I know, I know, but with the kids, it’s hard. It’s hard to get away from work for more than a week at a time too, and that’s just not long enough.”

  June didn’t make the implication that it was easier for January to leave her life. She didn’t say that she didn’t have a family, she worked for herself, and she no longer had a husband to worry about. She didn’t say it, but it was there, hanging between them, even if she didn’t mean to put it out there. June had asked January before, so many times, why she didn’t have kids when it was clear she was great around them. Her parents used to bring up her childless state pretty much constantly, but they’d stopped after she turned thirty-five. Instead of getting more insistent, they accepted that she just didn’t want any.

  That’s what they assumed, but the truth was, January did want kids. It had been Jotham who wanted to wait until they were thirty. They did try a few years back, but after a year without any luck, she just wanted to stop thinking about it. Either she’d waited too long, or it was never meant to be. In hindsight, she wondered if maybe she should have taken it further and explored other options, but that was all in the past now… Jotham hadn’t been all that disappointed, they had their life and he’d thought it was just fine. For her, she’d been heartbroken, and she’d had to go through it alone.

  Maybe that was part of the reason they’d divorced. Maybe it was just the stupid old excuse that they’d grown apart. It wasn’t just one thing. It was a lot of things. All the little things that they didn’t agree on, or that he hadn’t done, or that she hadn’t done or hadn’t wanted.

  “Makes sense,” January said softly. She picked up her boot and stared at it, her eyes smarting. She wasn’t going to cry in front of her sister because then June would ask her a million times what was wrong, because something had to be wrong, and then she really wouldn’t leave it alone.

  “You should put socks on.”

  “My boots are warm enough without.”

  “You could get blisters.”

  January hated socks. Maybe it was growing up somewhere super hot most of the time, but she just couldn’t stand them. She did have a few pairs in her bag, but she suddenly felt stubborn. “I’m alright. Don’t worry about me.”

  June huffed. “Okay, then. Don’t whine to me when your feet are bloody and blistered.”

  “I’m not one of the kids, June. I’m good.”

  June stuck out her tongue at that and what had been uncomfortable went back to being not tense at all. That made January’s eyes water a little bit more. What the heck was going on with her?

  She slipped her foot into the boot, taking care that she didn’t just ram it in because of the injury to her shin. She stopped when she felt something jammed up into the toe.

  They’d had a cat growing up that used to stick all sorts of toys and garbage into their shoes. But there was no cat at the cabin. Had she forgotten her sock in the toe of the boot from earlier? No, she’d gone to the outhouse with just bare feet in her boots.

  “What the hell?” January took her foot out, picked the boot up, and turned it upside down. Nothing came out.

  “What’s wrong?” June watched her intently.

  “Something’s jammed into the toe.”

  “Your sock?”

  “No.” She shook again, and still nothing fell out. This was so weird. She stuck her hand into the boot and reached into the toe. “Oh my god!” She screamed and dropped the boot and leapt back.

  June screamed and leapt back as well. She raced to the fireplace and grabbed the poker, brandishing it at the boot. “What’s in there?” she yelped.

  “I don’t know! I felt fur! It was warm. Warm fur. Boney fur.”

  June’s eyes nearly crossed. She got that look sometimes when she was scared shitless. “Oh my god, what? Fur? Holy shitting frick! It could be a spider.”

  “A furry, warm spider big enough to take up the whole toe of the boot?” January said, shuddering at the thought.

  “ I don’t think they’re warm blooded,” June poked at the boot with the fire poker, but nothing happened. “Maybe it’s a mouse. It has to be a mouse. Or a rat.”

  January started hopping from one foot to the other. “Oh my god! I just touched that with my naked toes and then with my fingers! Come on!”

  “That’s the only logical explanation. I don’t think it’s a cute little kitten.”

  “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I’m going to die. I’m going to pass out. I need to wash my hands!” A massive spider she could maybe deal with. Why did she and her sister have to inherit their mom’s phobia of small furries? She wiped her hands over her jeans feeling essence of mouse running over her entire body. Nasty fricking creatures.

  “Yes, you do! Wash the hands. Don’t pass out. Don’t die. You’re going to be fine. It’s just a cute little mouse. Or rat. A wild mouse or rat.” June had pulled her feet up onto the chair as if expecting a sudden invasion of wild mice seeking refuge in their cabin.

  January raced over to the black bus tub on the counter that they’d been doing dishes in. June had brought carboys of water and the kettle was still on the electric stove with warm water in it. January splashed it all into the bin. She poured liquid soap over her hands, still shifting from one foot to the other, her brain finally admitting the horror of that thing in her boot being a mouse. Or a freaking rat. She lathered herself all over, even pushing up her jacket and sweater to get at her forearms. Afterwards, she thumped the tub onto the floor and stuck her foot in it and scrubbed the heck out of it too.

  “You could call Tavish to get it out for you.” June suggested.

  “What?” She whipped around, her foot dripping water all over the place, her hands still wet and soapy. June was standing there with the poker, wide eyed, horrified, and otherwise very pleased with her suggestion. “Are you insane? We can’t call him. We might as well call Greg!”

  “Greg’s in the city with the kids. He’d take forty-five years to get out here at the rate they get ready. The thing would be bones by then. Plus, the kids make enough fun of me being scared of mice, I don’t want to give them any more ammunition.”

  “We’re not calling Tavish. Why would you even think of that?”

  “He did say to call if I ever needed anything, no matter how big or small.” A quick slash of the poker through the air punctuated that statement. It almost made January smile. Almost. But her boot. The mouse. It was all just so gross and horrifying.

  “Pretty sure he was talking about emergencies only, not whatever is in there.”

  “This is an emergency!” June squealed. She pointed with the poker. “Boot. Unidentified furry creature stuck in boot.” She pointed back at herself. “One scared woman.” Then at January. “Another scared shitless woman.” She gestured at the door. “One man who is no doubt really good at removing furry things from boots and is not scared shitless. It seems to add up. I rest my case.”

  January shook her head and marched over to get the tea towel off the stove door so she could dry her foot and hands off. “I’m sitting my ass down. Well away from that boot. It’ll come out by itself.”

  June screamed shrilly. “And be in here with us? While we’re sleeping? It could run on our face! Or get into our beds. Dine on our food. No freaking way.”

  “It’s probably scared. It just wants to go outside.” January hoped that was true, and it would scurry off—or maybe it would tell all its mouse friends about the fabulous cabin, and they’d have an influx of furry visitors.

  “Go dump your boot out there, then.” June said.

  “No way! What if it runs on me?”

  “Just set it outside.”

  “I’m not touching it!”

  June jumped off her chair, opened the door, thrust the poker through the pull loop at the top of the boot, dumped it on the doorstep on its side, and quickly slammed the door shut. “There. It can run out from there and it won’t bother us. We’ll sanitize the heck out of the boot and everything will be fine.”

  It seemed like a good plan, but two hours later, after endless games of cards and talking themselves down—and no sign of any other furry house guests—the boot was still there. But was it still inhabited by the horrendous creature?

  “I don’t want to check,” June admitted. “We should have been watching to see if it came out.”

  “It has to have come out.”

  “Are you going to check it?”

  “No way!”

  “You can’t go and pee in my boots. They’re two sizes too small for you. There’s going to be an emergency soon if you don’t check.”

  “I can hold it.”

  “That’s terrible for your insides. You have to go. I can tell from your face that you have to go.”

  It was true. Damn it, it was true.

  “Well, if you’re not going to check it and you really need to pee, there’s only one thing to do.”

  “Check it?”

  “No. Call Tavish.”

  What had seemed like the most illogical solution two hours ago seemed like the most fitting one now. Maybe January was just worn down. Maybe her bladder was going to burst if she didn’t do something soon. Maybe the whole thing was just disastrous to a city girl like her and, darn it, she was indeed a city girl.

  “How are you going to do that? You don’t have his number.” She had a sudden flash and wondered if June had actually asked him for it when he changed their tire. No, surely her sister wouldn’t have been that devious.

  “You’re right, I don’t, but I can pull up the clinic number from the pin on the map. We can call there and explain. If he won’t come out here, maybe someone else can come and save us.”

  “They’re not exterminators. You just wanted Tavish to come because you think he’ll be all knight in shining armor and save me and then I’ll fall madly into infatuation with him and live the rest of my life all happy out here with my hunky woodsman.”

  “Well, you need to get back on that horse sometime. He’s a really good-looking horse. He could give you a fine ri—”

  “Enough!” January snapped. “Fine. Call the clinic. Tell them we’ll pay if someone can help or ask them to suggest someone else. Don’t ask for Tavish. It’s not happening, June. It’s just not. But I’m at my wit’s end here.” She was dancing around, she didn’t want to go in a bucket. Please god don’t let that be her only option.

  “You really do need to pee, huh?”

  “Can you please just call if you’re calling?”

  June whipped out her phone with the world’s biggest shit eating sister grin. “Absolutely. I’ll call right now. See? It truly is an emergency.”

  Chapter 5

  Tavish

  Well, I’ll be darned. There actually is a mouse in there.

  The rather rotund, furry creature went scampering out of the boot as soon as he turned it on its side and thumped the bottom hard. He hoped it found some kind of shelter. The poor thing looked half terrified.

  Not as terrified as the women huddled up inside the cabin.

  He’d truly thought this was just a transparent attempt at matchmaking by June for her older sister. Plus Josephine, who urged him to go out and help. June just had to have called the clinic. She probably knew he’d get roped into this whether he liked it or not. It turned out he was legit the only one at the place who could be spared for a few hours. He was supposed to be doing guard duty for Sam when he went over to the new Pinefall shifter colony that bordered Greenacre, but one of Sam’s kids, Leo, came down with a nasty stomach bug and Sam wanted to be there for him. Lily insisted she’d be fine, but she had classes to teach in the afternoon and evening and Sam didn’t want her to have to cancel on those either.

  It was pretty crazy, but more and more of Greenacre was turning out for her adult classes. The kids loved them from the start, but the adult population was a slower draw. Lily taught whatever anyone requested, even if partnering was a problem. For the most part, everyone was good humored about being paired up with another guy who had to learn the female steps. She did a lot of individual styles of dance and that was probably easier.

  Tavish wouldn’t really know. He was just going off what Sam said. He’d never taken a class himself. He might have good reflexes and be athletic as hell, but dancing? That didn’t seem like something he’d be very good at.

  “Thank you!” June’s face was ashen as she edged away from the door. She’d had her hand curled around a fire poker like she was going to club someone to death, then went and replaced the thing in the holder.

  It was a balmy thirty-five degrees out, but the women were dressed like it was cold enough to freeze skin in an instant. They had the fire roaring inside the cabin. The place was hot enough to induce an immediate sweat underneath the old, handknit woollen sweater he was wearing.

  He shifted uncomfortably, his big boots clomping on the circular rag rug at the door. “Danger is over now. You can both relax.”

 

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