Cabin Affairs

Step 3. Next Exit: Eric

Step 3. Next Exit: Eric

Playlist: “Confidently Lost” by Sabrina Claudio

I pull up to the cabin beside Eric's red truck. Just like Matthew, he drives a beautiful pickup truck. That country song has got a point. There is just something women like about a pickup man. This woman, anyway. Although Eric most likely used his truck for hauling his motorcycle and tailgating, while my Matthew used his for family camping trips and picking up our annual Christmas tree. The two gentlemen are so vastly different from one another, it boggles my mind how I am captivated by each.

Eric never got married or had kids. He had served in the Air Force for eight years after our high school graduation. Those were not my best-lived days in the beginning. He has a protective instinct to a fault, and I worried constantly about Eric's hero complex meeting a disastrous end.

Looking back, it was for the best of all concerned. I can only imagine the damage that Eric would've done to Mr. Hoodie and his Long Island iced teas back in college. I laugh at the memory. Matthew tends to show a studied restraint, where as Eric's personality is a Mustang. Not the horse, but the car; wild, fast, and exhilarating. Not to mention, built for the ages.

Yes, it was for the best that he left. In fact, Eric's distance made it possible to push my girlish crush aside and focus on creating something real with Matthew.

Still, it surprised me that Eric was single. He would win any ‘most eligible bachelor’ award this side of the Mississippi. Don't get me wrong, he dated a lot. Too much probably. Though he never settled down with anyone seriously. He always claimed that was the nature of his job, not getting close to someone in case he didn't make it home one day. He saw that happen a few too many times with buddies during his tours.

After retirement from the Air Force, he took a job with his local Fire Department, so again he had an excuse that his life was too dangerous to commit it to anyone else. I agree the reasoning is sound. But I care about the man first and his loved ones after. He seems to live in limbo; neither giving much weight to the past or future.

I'm suddenly overwhelmed by my gratitude at finding Matthew, someone who willingly adjusted to make me a part of their life. I didn't enter his life too soon or too late. Matthew always seemed ready for me. I fit on his timeline not out of sheer luck, but because he made it so. He never once hesitated about fighting for us. It is a rare characteristic that I vow never to take for granted. I miss my husband already. My key is still in the ignition as I weigh my decisions. Should I just turn back?

Too late. Eric opens the cabin's front door and leans against the frame. He is watching me, waiting for me to come to him willingly. And he is grinning ear to ear with his most handsome smile. A salesman of the year couldn't manage this level of suave persuasion. Yep, it is too late. I am drawn into that smile like a moth to a flame, and I am already feeling the burn.

"You planning on spending the entire week in your car, J?" Eric calls out to me.

I turn off the engine and step out of the driver's seat. "I wouldn't dare. I know how hangry you get when you're delayed any food, E."

The fact that he uses my initial is what calms me. In sophomore year of high school, we had to read Jane Austen's Emma and found the characters of the clergyman and his wife so irritating that we took to using their pet names for one another in our own jest. It stuck all these years. He hasn't forgotten. It's as if the clock stops when we part and begins its incessant ticking when we meet again.

Eric saunters over towards me. I note how breathtaking he is in his thin black athletic shorts and t-shirt stretching tight across his chest. If firefighters from his department ever make a calendar, then he is definitely Mr. July; the hottest month of the year. Yep, yep. He is actually stealing my breath away. Damned thief.

Eric hugs me in a usual greeting. The scruff of his close cut beard is surprisingly soft against my cheek. It matches his dark brown - almost black - medium length hair, though I note the touch of gray beginning to peek through. This man is aging better than wine, of which I hope to God there is some in that cabin.

I have to stand on my tiptoes in order to reach my arms around his neck. Matthew may be six feet, but I figure Eric has at least another four to five inches on him. I’m reminded of how much he likes to work out, claiming it to be part of his religion. His shoulders are broad and hard. I'm now also forewarned of the mountain of muscle below them and my breath hitches again. The criminal in my arms doesn't pull back.

"Ah, you smell fan-f*****g-tastic," Eric whispers into my hair. I feel my insides starting to melt under his hot breath against my ear. That is, until he finishes his thought, "just like chicken tendies."

"Oh, shut up!" I exclaim, pushing him playfully off of me. "I'll get your chicken tendies. For God's sake!"

I turn and dive into the passenger's seat for the paper sack through the driver's side entrance. When I turn back to Eric, he quickly glances back up to my face. I am certain that I just caught him staring at my ass as I leaned over into the car. The kidding in his smile no longer reaches his eyes.

I hold the takeout bag out to him sheepishly, unsure of what to say next. This gorgeous man in front of me has never looked at me like that.

"Thanks, beautiful. How about we grab your stuff out of the car now, too, before it gets dark?" Eric's expression relaxes into mere friendliness so quickly, perhaps I imagined him checking me out.

"Yea, sure. Let me just pop the trunk," I replied, while again leaning over to grab the trunk's release button below the steering wheel. I'm wearing a mock turtle neck black top with a straight plaid skirt. It's the very beginning of fall, but I can feel a slight chill this high up the mountain. The sheer black stockings held up by my garters and matching black boots are doing little to combat the breeze. As my skirt rises up a little at the bending motion, I shiver at the drop in temperature.

I hear Eric mutter something under his breath to the tune of, "I'll pop your trunk." Immediately, I feel my cheeks heat up in a flush, but thankfully, Eric is facing away from me, walking towards the back of the SUV.

"You only have the one bag? You are staying a week, right?" Eric's confidence seems to waver at the prospect of my leaving sooner than planned. I guess he misses spending time with his friend, as I do with him, and it warms my heart.

In reality, I had wanted to pack more, but Matthew convinced me I didn't need to. We weren't going out anywhere, and as my husband put it, I "wasn't going to be dressed the majority of the time anyway." At least, those were his reasons. In my own head, I worried that packing too much would make me appear desperate or superficial. Eric's good opinion meant more to me than I had ever previously considered. This adventure is already opening my eyes to learn more about myself.

"Yeppers. Just the one, plus my purse," I added, holding up the handbag I had pulled from the front of the car. Wow, Jenny Lynn! Did I really just say 'yeppers'? What am I, five years old? What the hell is wrong with me?

If Eric notices my insipid reaction, he says nothing about it. "Damn! I'd better grab that, too. We can't have you throwing your back out with that heavy load."

After carrying a diaper bag for years, this was nothing. However, looking at the bag again, I realize how unnecessarily large it truly is. The tell-tale equipment of a mom.

Nevertheless, we are both smiling, and I have missed our natural banter so much that I don't mind his teasing. I relax a bit, locking the car after he closes the trunk.

"You'd better text Matthew and let him know you got here safe and sound," Eric suggests, while walking towards the cabin.

I am secretly thrilled that he mentions Matthew first. I am determined not to feel like I am sneaking around. "Yeah, I'd like to do that."

Eric pops his head back out of the cabin and nods towards the woods behind it. "The cell service up here is a bit spotty, but I usually get better reception out back by the rocking chairs."

"Thanks, I'll do that," I say before starting to dig into my bag for my phone.

With my mind resolute on staying for the week, I finally take a good look at the hunting cabin in front of me. It's more idyllic than rustic to be honest, cozily nestled between patches of dense woodlands and a view of the mountain elevation from behind it. The shrubbery surrounding the porch is a bit overgrown, but that's to be expected, since it's rarely inhabited. Eric explained to me already that he and a couple of guys from the service lease it out together for hunting purposes as it's sole function. I guess that's why he needed to clean it up most of today.

I snap a picture of the setting to illustrate my first text to Matthew.

Jenny Lynn: Hi, honey! I just pulled up to the cabin. Not quite as primitive as I imagined it. LoL!

Matthew: Hey, Jen. Is Eric there yet? I don't want you out by yourself.

Jenny Lynn: Yeah, he just took my bag inside and suggested I text you. How is everything there?

Matthew: Everything is fine here. Stop worrying. I know you. Go relax. You can't pour from an empty cup.

I smile at my husband's common proverb. He is always reminding me that as the caretaker in our family, I still need self-care to avoid burnout. His next text, however, returns the butterflies to my stomach.

Matthew: I'd prefer you full anyway, baby.

Baby. Matthew only uses that pet name behind closed doors. I can practically hear the warmth spreading to my lower region. I need to regain my composure before going inside.

Jenny Lynn: OK, OK. Goodness! I miss you already.

Matthew: I miss you, too. But not enough that you should come home. Text me whenever you want. I love you. Forever.

Jenny Lynn: Forever.

I straighten myself out of the rocking chair when my stomach growls. Eric hasn't checked on me, but it’s getting late. The sun has left only a reddish orange sky that fades into the misty blue of the mountains below it. The wispy, stratus clouds elongate the landscape of sky in a way that I feel I'm a bird flying above the Earth.

I'm sure Eric is just giving me the space I need with Matthew. Still, I’m hungry, getting cold, and I have to pee. I know I can't avoid going inside the cabin any longer. Next up, dinnertime… with my gorgeous best friend... alone.