Page 6 of Playing With The Mountain Man

“You’re an asshole,” I accused.

“Guilty as charged,” he agreed. “Anyway, I’ve gotta get Connor in the bath, so take care of yourself, all right, Cody,” he told me seriously, all traces of teasing having evaporated from his voice.

“Will do. Have a good one,” I wished him before ending the call.

I tidied up my mess, putting the glass in the dishwasher, and grabbed a beer before settling on the porch.

Jack’s words rang in my ears, but the more I thought about his question, the clearer it became that I didn’t have an answer. I popped the cap and took a long drink as I stared out into the darkness. Overhead, stars were scattered, shining brightly as a cool breeze ruffled the trees. The sounds of the mountain calmed the storm inside me.

It wasn’t until I was climbing into bed that I let myself smile.

Tomorrow was Tuesday, and I hadn’t looked forward to a Tuesday in a long time.

Chapter four

Tillie

Today could go eat a bag of dicks.

I was dead on my feet, everything hurt, and I had so much to get done. I turned off the alarm and rolled over with a groan. “Five more minutes,” I told myself, hugging the pillow against my chest.

I’d been up all night with River, who’d brought home a virus that had everything he’d eaten coming out of both ends. When I tucked him in beside me just after five, he looked like he’d survived a war. His lips were chapped, and his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as he shivered.

The snooze alarm went off before I was ready, and I groaned. I had to get my ass moving if I was going to somehow reorganize my day, and wash the three sets of sheets that were balled up on my laundry floor, but first I had to make sure River was able to keep at least some fluids down.

On wobbly legs, I stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. After stripping off, I stepped in, leaning my forehead against the cool tiles and closing my eyes. I would be about as useful as tits on a bull, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. Emmy and Ryan could only do so much, and I refused to ask them for anything more. Rosie’s diner was my business, so it was my problem, and I’d figure it out. But after coffee. Everything was after coffee at this point.

I was halfway through shampooing my hair, willing my tired body back to life, when the hot water cooled. Before I’d had a chance to adjust the temperature, it turned arctic. I bashed my elbow against the glass door as I tried to scramble out from under the spray and away from the icy water.

“Fucking motherfucker!” I swore as I rubbed my elbow and groped about for a towel.

It wasn’t until I wrapped it around me that I realized it was practically as wet as I was. I opened the cabinet under the sink to find another, but it was bare. “Fuck!” I swore again.

Resigned to the fact that I was probably going to freeze to death wrapped in a damp towel, I crept into my bedroom and grabbed some clothes, careful not to wake River.

Once I’d stopped shivering and was dressed, I picked up the towels and carried them down the hall, dumping them in the tub.

I tossed the first load in the washer and headed straight for the kitchen. Only the biggest mug of coffee I could find was going to have any chance of making me at least semi-human today.

I wasn’t exactly what you’d call a coffee snob, but I liked what I liked, and I wasn’t about to apologize for it either. When it was finally brewed, I filled my cup and reached for the French vanilla creamer. It was one of those mornings, and caffeine alone wasn’t going to cut it. I needed as much sugar in my bloodstream as possible if I had any hope of making it through without stabbing someone with a fork.

The fucking creamer was empty.

Fucking empty.

And I had no one to blame but myself.

River didn’t drink it, so I must’ve been the idiot who put the empty carton back in the fridge.

The black coffee in my mug mocked me.

Fuck my life.

If I could crawl into bed right now, pull the covers over my head, and try again tomorrow, you could bet your ass that’s what I’d be doing.

But I was an adult.

What a crock of shit that was.