Outside the tent a fire pit was already full of wood, with more stacked nearby. Logs had been moved over by the fire pit and a cooler sat against the tent. Alex knelt and quickly had the fire going before he motioned for me to follow him inside the tent.
I walked in and gasped. The inside of the tent was cold, but the ground had been covered with blankets. More than I could count were spread out to create a cushioned floor. Small lanterns had been placed around the room, some on the blankets, some sitting on the little chest of drawers pushed to the back of the tent, one in the center of the table that sat just inside the tent flaps. A white tablecloth was draped across it and two chairs were sitting on opposite sides.
The center of the space was dominated by a huge bed. I couldn’t imagine why or even how he’d done it, but headboard and all, his bed was there. I could just see his steel grey pillowcases on his pillows under the massive white duvet that covered the bed. I turned to find Alex watching me from the opening of the tent.
“Do you like it?” his voice was soft, like he wasn’t sure, and I nodded a little because the lump in my throat meant my voice wasn’t happening at that moment. He grinned, “Happy Birthday doll.” A tear broke free from my eye and left a traitorous path down my cheek. His eyes followed its progress, his smile fading.
I sucked in a deep breath and told myself to get a grip. It was just a camping trip. I smiled and walking over to wrap my arms around his waist, I laid my head against his chest. “It’s perfect. Thank you,” I murmured, afraid to look at him. I didn’t want to cry, even if they were happy tears.
His arms wrapped around me and he held me tightly and I heard his chuckle rumble in his chest, “I don’t know about perfect. I haven’t even burned your dinner yet.” I laughed and pulled back to look up in his eyes. He looked incredibly pleased at his success.
Loud beeping pulled me from my memory, and I glanced at the TV above the bar. The weatherman was talking about the winter storm warning that was being upgraded to a blizzard warning. He listed some of the roads and bridges that were no longer passable. I glanced at the last few stragglers and I was thankful that many took the warning to heart and tossing down money they called their goodbyes and left.
A man still sat at the end of the bar and as I waved out another customer, he flagged me down. He was older, with a bald head and a salt and pepper goatee. I took in his light jacket that showed he was a tourist. I walked over and offered a smile, “What can I get you?”
“A beer would be great,” he smiled at me, but I couldn’t help but notice it didn’t quite reach his pale eyes. I nodded and poured him a beer. He watched me and then asked, “Are you from around here?”
“Yes, sir, born and raised,” I picked up a rag and started wiping down the area behind the bar. Maybe if he realized I was ready to close he’d leave quicker.
“What’s good to do around here? Any fun places to check out?” He asked with what sounded like forced casualness.
“Well there is the ski lodge,” I answered, unsure what he was looking for, “And you can hike in the national forest.”
His eyes sparked with interest, “The forest? That seems my speed. What kind of wildlife do they have there?” I looked away from him and wiped at some rings on the bar.
“The usual stuff I guess,” I answered him, still not meeting his eyes. I didn’t like the feeling I was getting about his questions. “Deer, a lot of birds, but not as many with this weather. Rabbits, squirrels, and fox. Like I said, typical stuff.”
“Have there been any wolf sightings?” I tried not to react to his question, but a chill ran up my spine and I clenched the bar rag tightly in my hand as I shook my head.
“None that I’ve heard about,” I forced myself to meet his eyes and smile, hoping that I was hiding my nervousness. He stared at me for several moments. I felt like my skin was crawling and he gave me a slightly sinister smile. A shudder passed through me and he nodded, apparently getting the answer he wanted. He tossed down money for his beer and left the bar without another word.
I glanced around the bar at the last few regulars, but they didn’t seem to have noticed the man. They all watched the news footage while they nursed their beers. I hoped they weren’t planning on staying until closing time. I set to work cleaning all the empty tables. Thankfully, an hour later the last of the patrons walked out and I locked the doors before anyone else decided to drop by.
I cleaned up the last few tables and flipped out the lights. I was turning off the neon lights when I got the horrible feeling that I was being watched. An icy chill went up my spine and I looked around the darkened bar. I didn’t see anyone, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I snatched my coat from behind the bar and left though the back door to get to my car.
The parking lot was a sheet of ice covered in several inches of fresh powder. Snow fell fast around me, swirling through the air on the wind. I moved as quickly as I could across the lot and pulled open the door to my car. The feeling of
