ROADTRIP

With a final approving glance in the mirror, I survey my outfit: tan leather boots, black jeans, and a slightly wrinkled white blouse—that’ll have to do. I grab a red tartan jacket from the coat rack, run my fingers through my unruly dirty blonde curls, and quickly glance at my smartwatch. Still on schedule, I sigh in relief and do a last sweep through my house—double-checking locks, closing windows, shutting off appliances, and giving my wilting plant a farewell drink.

Nibbling on my bottom lip, I recheck the time and can't suppress the smile spreading across my face. It’s been too long since I've taken any time for myself, and the thrill of this long-awaited downtime fills me with anticipation, a sensation I haven’t felt in ages.

First, a quick stop at the office to drop off some paperwork, then I can hit the road. After that, it's just a three-and-a-half-hour drive to the main town, and another fifteen minutes to the cabin.

Stepping outside, I make my way down the white wooden steps of my porch, quickly running through my checklist before I jump into my car: packed luggage, locked front door, phone, wallet, and keys in my bag, hot coffee ready in the cup holder, glasses on—check! I let out a sigh, buzzing with nerves as I fire up the engine. As the car heats up, I find myself thinking about Black Mountain. It’s been ages since I last saw the Spur and the cabin, and I can’t wait to see what’s different. I give my mirrors a quick check, make sure the way is clear, and then release the break.

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I park my silver Ford Edge in its usual spot, brush off some imaginary dust from my jacket, and take the elevator up to the 5th floor. As I walk through the open plan workspace, a few colleagues throw friendly waves my way. I head straight to Erin’s office, clutching the papers she needs for the L’obscurité acquisition.

“Morning,” I burst out as the papers smack gently onto her desk.

“Ava,” Erin greets me, her husky voice warming the room as she stands up. “Congrats on a job well done. The whole office is abuzz, and thanks for dropping these off.” She gestures towards the papers with her red-tipped, manicured fingers and flashes a grin. “So, tell me everything you’re planning to do when you get there, and don’t skip any details.”

I blow a raspberry at my coworker and best friend, giving a nonchalant shrug. “You already know my plans; we’ve spoken about this like a million times,” I sigh, watching her put a hand on her hip and pout dramatically. I decide to play along, repeating my well-worn script, “I’m going to get to the cabin and sleep, then maybe eat and sleep some more. Oh, and did I ever tell you I plan to sleep?”

“I guess, but I bet you’ll sneak in some sleep between sampling the local eats,” Erin teases, wiggling her dark eyebrows in mock scandal. “I mean, if I were headed to a romantic cabin in the woods, surrounded by all those handsome, rugged mountain men, I’d definitely be looking for the right girl to sweep them off their feet.”

I choke out a laugh at her words. Most people might think to correct Erin, reminding her that traditionally, it's the man's job to sweep a woman off her feet. But I’ve known Erin long enough to understand that she means exactly what she says. Erin doesn’t wait around like some damsel in distress; when she sees something she likes, she goes for it.

"You never know," she grins, leaning in a bit closer with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "you might just run into a tall, dark, and irresistibly charming stranger who'll totally knock your socks off—and maybe more."

Sighing, I shake my head at her antics. Men are definitely not on my radar right now. All I want is to get there, pay my respects, and escape reality for a bit.

This trip is a celebratory getaway I planned right after my company landed the Bradshaw contract. Perfect timing struck eight months ago when a customer, who also happens to be an old family friend, sent me an email offering me the use of their cabin whenever I wanted it. Now, six months later, the project is wrapped up, having generated substantial profits and a handsome bonus for me. With my schedule finally clear and the anniversary just a few days away, it's the perfect time to escape.

I mean, Ava, you're hot; 28, single, successful, and you've definitely got your assets," Erin says with a nod towards her own chest, her voice dropping a notch. "You just need a little fun, a nice cock or two, and then you'll really be able to relax."

I can't help but roll my eyes at her straightforward suggestion. "Look, Erin, first off, the cabin is remote, not exactly a hotspot for romantic escapades. And secondly, if I happen to meet a nice local, I’m open to seeing where things go, but I’m not actively looking to get down and dirty with some local hillbilly.”

“You need a cleaning out, I swear, the only person to visit your vagina in the past decade has been the Grim Reaper, checking to see if it’s still alive or ready for collection.”

I snort. Erin isn’t too far off, really. If it weren’t for my trusty collection of gadgets, I might also question if everything was still operational down there. Thankfully, I can confirm all systems are go—it’s just that they aren't currently open to external contributors.

“It’ll be good for you, Ava, take the edge off a bit. It’s not like you have to bring anyone back with you. Just enjoy your time and keep an open mind if an opportunity comes up,” Erin continues, her intense steel-black eyes almost willing me to agree.

"Okay, mom," I say, placing my hand over my heart for emphasis, "I promise, but only if YOU promise to guard my office from the vultures."

"Done," Erin replies promptly. "And I expect regular updates from you, young lady."

I shake my head, my messy curls flying about, and sigh, "Fine, I'll message you when I get there, but don’t get all pissy if I forget to update you every time I take a bathroom break."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," Erin salutes, then glances at her diamond-encrusted, stainless steel watch—a gift from one of her many admirers. "Anyway, ciao, get moving! Otherwise, you won't get there before dark, and DON'T forget to message!"

"I won’t, mom. Love you," I chuckle, stepping towards her.

I pull her into a hug, her arms enveloping me in an extra tight squeeze. "I'll miss you, girl," Erin whispers before letting go.

“Likewise.”

Not one to linger on goodbyes, Erin turns back to her desk to grab her phone, which is vibrating quietly. "Gotta take this," she says.

I nod, blow her a kiss, and leave the office. My boots click against the marble tiles as I make my way to the elevator.