I turned around and led the way into the cabin. The first room was the kitchen. I made gourmet meals in this kitchen for my guests, and it was well suited for it. Sarah stopped and stared.
"This is your cabin?" she asked.
I nodded. "I use it for business," I told her. "I bring clients here. I know this makes me look rich, but my house in town is small. This is a business expense." I paused. "Think of it like a bed and breakfast."
"That's what this is?" she asked. "A hotel?"
"No," I said. "I'm a relationship counselor. I run weekend and sometimes week-long retreats here. Sometimes couples forget to slow down and enjoy each other's company. I bring them here. I make them go fishing or sit by a fire. I make them make s'mores for each other. I make them pamper each other. I remind them why they fell in love in the first place." I paused. "The bedrooms are all sound proofed."
She laughed.
I showed her the rest of the cabin. The dining area and living room were both in the front of the cabin facing the lake. We stared out the window together for a minute. After that, I showed her all the bedrooms. "This one is mine," I told her. "Private bath." Then I took her to my favorite guest room. "You may use any of the guest rooms, but this one is my favorite. It has a great view of the lake and a comfortable bed."
"Thanks," she said. "It's beautiful."
"I suppose if you camp out a lot, the view is nothing special."
She turned and smiled at me. "The view is lovely and comes with more headroom than I'm used to."
I smiled back. "Come on," I told her. "I'll show you the bathroom."
The cabin had three bathrooms. Mine, a full bathroom for the guests, and a powder room off the living room. The guest bathroom had a whirlpool tub big enough for two. I led her to it.
"Do you have to turn the water on or anything?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "I turned the furnace on remotely before I left town, and there will be hot water, I just have to open the pipes. I'll be right back."
The cabin had a small basement. It served as a well room, utility room and pantry. When I'd first had the place built, I'd made the people who built it for me label everything I would ever need to know. I checked the pilot on the hot water heater; it was fine. I closed the drain value that is used to drain the pipes then opened the water value that would allow water to flow upstairs. I could hear it flowing right away with the arrhythmic pounding it does when first opened.
I ran upstairs and closed the faucets that I'd let open last time I was here. Sarah was back at the living room windows, staring out at the falling snow. I stepped into the bathroom and began drawing water for her. I rinsed the tub first then let it start to fill. I added bubble bath for her, set out fresh towels and a soft guest bathrobe.
"Sarah?" I called to her. "Please can we get you out of those wet clothes?"
She appeared in the bathroom door. I pointed out everything to her and said, "I'll find something in the freezer to defrost, then come check on you."
"I have a fresh chicken and some vegetables in the back of the car," she said. "If you would rather we do something with that."
"I'll take out food for tomorrow and we can have your chicken tonight."
* * *
While I was handling all of that, I also checked the phone. I still had service. I checked my list of numbers and called the garage in town. It was the same garage that did snow plowing service. I explained where my car was.
"We can look for it tomorrow," the man said, "if the snow lets up and the plows go through. We'll have to plow everyone first, so depending on the snow, I don't know if I can get to it until Sunday."
I explained how he'd find it. He laughed. "That was a good idea," he said. "My wife will love hearing how I was out looking for some woman's bra hanging from a tree." He promised he would call tomorrow. If they found the car, he'd deliver it to me.
I didn't like being without my car, but there wasn't anything to be done about it.
I popped back to the bathroom and checked on Sarah.
"I'm in the tub," she said. "You can come in."
I opened the door and she was well under the water. Her expression was of pure enjoyment. She had the water jets going and suds up to her chin. She turned to look at me. "You're going to spoil me," she said.
I smiled. "That's the whole idea." I collected her wet clothes. "I'll take these to the laundry and be back to wash your hair."
I didn't wait for her to demur but scampered out of the room with her clothes. Sometimes people will turn down an offer of pampering because they're not used to receiving one, but if you give them a chance to think about it, they sometimes accept. If she were going to turn down the pampering, at least she'd have time to think about it first.
When I got back, her eyes were closed. She looked radiant. I didn't ask permission. I collected a bottle of shampoo and a large ladle I used for this. I pulled up a short stool next to the tub and began ladling water over her hair, being careful not to pour any into her face. She opened her eyes and looked at me. "I don't need to be babied," she said. "You were the one in the accident."
"And you are my hero, coming to my rescue," I told her. "Please, pampering you for a while will help settle my nerves."
"You're a shrink all right," she said, laughing. "Making it sound like I'm doing you a favor." But she closed her eyes again.
I washed her hair and talked about bathing rituals. Many societies on earth had them. I focused on her hair, but her pert breasts snuck their way out of the cover of the suds from time to time, distracting me badly. I tried very hard not to stare at them.
She opened her eyes and caught me staring. She looked at me for a moment, knowing exactly what I'd been looking at.
I tried to stammer an apology.
"I don't mind," she said. "You're cute. But I'm not your type."
Then just like that, she closed her eyes again.
"What do you mean, you're not my type. How do you know what my type is?"
She sighed. "You think I'm some lost waif who needs rescuing. Perhaps the scared deer in your headlights from an hour ago. Someone you can rescue and who will be so grateful she will enjoy letting you be in control all the time. I'm not that person."
"You barely know me," I told her. "I'm sorry I stared."
"No you're not," she said. "Neither am I. But we would clash. You like to be in control." She opened her eyes and looked at me. "Am I wrong?"
Maybe she didn't know me very well, yet she had me pegged. But she thought I was cute? I hadn't been called cute in a while.
I took my time with her hair. She seemed to enjoy it.
"May I pry?" I asked her after a bit.
She smiled. "Isn't that what shrinks do?"
"What do you do?" I asked her.
"I breathe," she said.
I laughed. "While accurate, that has to have been the least informative answer I've ever heard."
"Only because you didn't think about it," she replied. She opened an eye and looked at me. "Do your clients pay you a lot to come here?"
"Yes."
"Why? Why here instead of someplace easier to get to."
"They like the solitude, the escape from distractions." I paused. "I have an internet connection here, but I don't tell them that. No computers, no cell phones. I confiscate any electronic devices anyone brings. They come for the solitude, the silence, the clean, fresh air."
"The clean fresh air," she repeated. "They come here to breathe."
"I guess they do," I said.
"And they pay you a lot of money to do so." She glanced at me again. "I don't pay anyone for that, and I don't wait until my life is in crisis to breathe." She paused. "I don't need rescuing."
"I didn't say you did," I told her.
"You wanted to know what I do for a living, not what I do," she said. "As if what I do for money defines who I am." She paused. "Are you a shrink first or a woman first? A woman first or a human being first?"
I didn't have an answer right away.
"To answer the question you really asked," she said. "I'm a photographer and graphics artist. I do book covers."
"Really?" I asked. "Any books I would know?"
She opened both eyes and grinned at me. "I don't know. Do you read a lot of porn?"
I stared at her. "Are you trying to shock me again?"
"Sorry." She turned away. "You're being kind. Bad habit of mine."
"Really," I asked her after a moment. "What do you really do?"
"I really do book covers. I get fifty dollars each. I do one or two a week." She looked back at me. "I do all my own photography. I am my own model most of the time. You saw the size of my walk in closet." She laughed. "Most of my covers don't involve a lot of clothing." She eyed my appreciatively. "I could use a new model, if you want to make a few bucks."
I grinned. "Tempting."
She settled back into the tub. "Thank you," she told me.
"For what?"
"The soak."
"You're welcome."
I asked her a few questions, which she answered, but as soon as I asked about her past, she clammed up. We sat quietly for a minute, then she said, "May I ask another favor?"
"Of course."
"I don't have any bathtub photos." She paused. "I suppose you wouldn't want your tub appearing on a book cover though."
"You want me to take your picture?"
"You don't have to. You know how I'll use them."
"I'll get your camera bag."
I came back with it. She opened her eyes and looked at me. "Please don't get too close to the tub with it. That bag represents a greater investment than everything else I own combined."
I nodded and set the bag down in the doorway. I opened it. There was a large camera and several lenses. I took the camera out.
She frowned. "That lens isn't going to work. Do you know how to change them? I don't want to touch anything with wet hands."
I didn't know a thing about her camera, but she was able to walk me through it. I switched lenses and carefully put the other one back in the bag. She told me how to turn the camera on. I took a couple of photos, then approached and showed them to her.
"You're really okay with this?" she asked me. I nodded. "Okay. It's digital. Please just keep clicking."
I started taking photos of her, moving around as I did so. She moved around, too, from lying back in the water looking blissful -- I took a dozen different angles of that -- to turning and staring at me, her chin propped on the tub. She did different things with her wet hair, almost absentmindedly for some of it. Then she turned and faced directly into the camera, and her expression changed.
I felt my heat rising. I wanted this woman. I wanted to set her camera aside and take her right there in the tub.
My breath caught, just staring at her through the lens. She smiled, and somehow I knew she recognized the effect she had on me.
Finally she stood up and I stopped taking pictures. "Don't stop," she said.
"Seriously?"
She nodded, so I kept taking photos as she collected a towel and dried herself, then climbed out of the tub.
"Thank you," she said finally. "We can go through them later and I'll delete any that would too readily identify your bathroom."
"That's not necessary," I told her, putting her camera away.
"Yes it is," she said.
* * *
She didn't bother with the bathrobe I gave her. I offered her spare clothes of mine, and she followed me to my bedroom, her hair wrapped in a towel, but otherwise without a stitch covering her. It was everything I could do to keep from jumping her.
We were of a similar size. My clothes were a little big on her, but that just made it sexier. I watched as she selected lacy, black undies, jeans that would have been tight on me, and a white blouse She added warm socks. No bra. I bounce around too much without a bra, but she seemed perfectly comfortable.
She ignored me as she dressed. I had offered her privacy but she smiled at me and said I was free to watch.
I should have turned her down. The images of her slowly dressing in my clothes embedded themselves in my brain.
She finished dressing and turned to me.
"Did you want me to do your laundry?" I asked her.
"I can do it." She paused. "I haven't eaten today."
It had been dark for two hours.
I stared at her. "I thought you weren't a lost waif needing rescue."
She turned away. "I was out of cash. My recent clients have been slow to pay. Checks finally cleared this morning, so I was able to go to the store. I was going to eat once I got camp set up. It's no biggie, but I'd really like if one of us cooked that chicken."
"I'll start it," I told her. "While you're starting your laundry."
I disappeared into the kitchen while she headed to the laundry. I went through her supplies to see what she had then dug through my pantry. I assembled a menu in my head. She returned to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of carrots from her grocery bag. She pulled several carrots out of the bag and washed them, then began eating one of them.
"Do you want help?" she asked. "Or would you rather see the photos you took?"
"I'll cook," I told her. "I'd love to see the photos. I'd like to see your book covers, too."
She smiled. "I thought you didn't like it when I shocked you."
"Not much shocks me."
I watched her while she walked away, munching her carrot. She went to her bedroom then returned with her camera and computer bags. She set up on the island in the kitchen, the opposite end from where I was preparing dinner for us. She pulled her laptop out and asked if she could plug it in.
"There's a row of plugs on your side of the island," I told her.
"I know. I didn't want to presume." She plugged her laptop in and powered it up, then pulled her camera out and downloaded the images to it. When she was done, she walked over to me and showed me the camera. "See?" I she said, pointing. "No images. I deleted them when I downloaded them."
I looked at her, puzzled. "Why are you showing me that?"
"So when I delete the ones on the computer, you'll know I didn't hide some here."