Small Town Big Man

I just shot him down.

“Hey, look—” I start to say.

Anders starts the truck, and the loud engine silences me. “It's fine, don't worry about it.”

“No, let me explain, I'm not saying it—”

“Don't, Laney. I said it's fine.” His tone is angry and his mouth goes taut. He avoids looking at me as he drives out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

Neither one of us speaks the entire ride. Anders is focusing on the road, and he seems to be thinking deeply.

I'm watching the trees, and after a few miles, I see the road to my cabin come and go. I'm about to speak up when he realizes it too.

“Shit, sorry. I'm just so used to making this drive to my house. I'll turn around.”

“No, it's all right. Actually, I'd really like to see your workshop. You know, if you're still willing to show me?” Reaching out, I touch the top of his hand that's resting on the gearshift.

He flicks his eyes to mine, and I can see confusion flood his face. Either I like him, or I don't. I need to pick one. It's just hard for me. I don't want to make the same mistake twice. I don't want to give my heart to someone who isn't going to treasure it. But I also need to stop playing with his emotions. I’m just being a bitch at this point.

“Are you sure? Because I can turn around.”

“No, seriously, I want to see it. I really do. And it's cold enough out tonight that the groceries will be fine.”

He nods. “Okay then, my place it is.”

“World's weirdest day, huh?” I'm a little nervous as I speak, but I'm trying to lighten the mood.

Anders chuckles, twisting his hand around and braiding our fingers together. “Weirdest, no. Most awkward. . . It's in my top three.”

We're both laughing and it feels good as we turn up the long, snowy mountain road to his place. The trees grow denser and the moon is shining down brightly. His place is glowing as the moonlight reflects off the snow.

It's beautiful. My head is a little clearer now, the wine fog has lifted, and I feel more stable. His cabin is covered in a thick blanket of snow, and the snow is piled up high against the walls. It reminds me of a French chalet, tucked away from the world, hidden in the depths of the trees and buried in snow.

He parks the truck and climbs out. Opening my door, I jump out into snow so deep it almost hits my knees. I trudge through the snow, following him to the shop behind his cabin.

“See that?” he asks, pointing down at some animal tracks.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Those are wolf tracks.”

“What?” I ask as I twist my head side to side frantically. “Wolf? There are wolves around here?”

“Don't worry, it's fine. They won't bother us.”

“Are you sure?” Running up close to his side, I grab his arm.

Anders laughs as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. “Let's see if the power is back.” Flipping the switch as he steps inside, the lights pop on. “Finally.”

He moves to the side and I walk in behind him. I'm blown away. It's not like I expected at all. I thought I'd see stacks of wood, sawdust everywhere, tools strewn about. That's not what I see at all.

Every tool is hanging perfectly above his workbench or nestled in a toolbox. Beautiful planks of wood are in neat piles, separated by color and type. Brightly colored glass is in different bins, and there are piles of thick iron strips.

“Wow,” I say, spinning around. “You and your dad built this?”

“Yeah, we built this place about fourteen years ago. Well, he built it, I was just his apprentice.”

“It's beautiful.” My eyes are jumping all over the room, and I'm running my fingers over the different wood grains and the smooth glass. “This is incredible. It's way cooler than I thought.”

“What did you think? That it'd be a pigsty?”

Shrugging a shoulder, I smirk. “Pretty much.”

“I proved you wrong then.”

“You've proven me wrong more than once already.”

Anders eyes jump to mine, and the way he's looking at me sends a tingle down my spine. I'm not lying when I say that to him. He's proven that not all men are assholes. That people can still be there for you when you need someone the most. That I do deserve to be happy and loved and treated like the princess I am. . .

Oh God, I'm falling in love with this man.

Breaking my eyes away, I move to a giant pair of doors resting on a couple sawhorses. “Holy shit, did you make these?”

“Yeah, those took me two months.”

I'm in awe of this man and what he can do with his hands. He’s an artist. He creates. He intricately designs. His work is both beautiful and functional. And the other things his hands can do, to me, leave me even more in awe. His hands give me pleasure, and inexplicably they make me feel safer than I’ve ever felt in my life.