CHAPTER FOUR

Hunter

I groan as incessant knocking on my bedroom door jolts me awake for a moment, I feel disoriented, confused as to why there's clearly someone other than me in my house. Then the events of the previous night comes rushing back- the journalist, of course. I let out long sigh and force myself to sit up, running a hand through my messy hair. The knocking starts again. "I'm coming," I grumble, hoping my irritation comes through loud and clear. The knocking only grows more insistent, like she's trying to break down the damn door. 

"Hold on a minute!" I shout, throwing the covers off and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. My feet hit the cold hardwood floor and I wince, the chill shooting up through my body. I trudge towards the door, the knocks punctuating my every step. I take a moment to compose myself, rubbing my face and trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. I take a deep breath and turn the knob, pulling it open to reveal the small journalist, her fist poised to knock again.

"Good morning!" She chirps, flashing me an overly bright smile.

"I was starting to think you'd spend the whole day in there."

I raise an eyebrow, not in the mood to talk too much this early. 

"Morning," I reply, my voice still thick with sleep. 

"What time is it?"

"Just after eight. Umm… I hope I didn't wake you?" She asks, as if she doesn't know the answer to that already.

"Oh, not at all. I was awake already. Just enjoying the sweet sounds of life," I reply, sarcasm dripping from my words.

"What do you want?"

"Well, I was hoping we could get an early start on getting my car fixed," she says, tilting her head to the side. I groan inwardly. Right. Her car. The whole reason why she invaded my space. 

"Can it wait a bit?" I ask, rubbing my sleepy eyes. "I think I still have some few minutes of sleep left."

"Well, I think that the sooner we fix it, the sooner I'll be out of here, don't you think so too?"she says, smiling in that weird way that I really don't like. But she's right. I resist the urge to groan again. 

"Of course. Just let me have a cup of coffee first."

Leaving the door ajar, I turn back to grab a pair of socks. As I put them on, I feel her gaze on me, looking around and studying my room. That makes me uncomfortable. Once I'm done, I step out of the room, closing the door behind us and head to the kitchen, the journalist trailing behind.

"Would you like a cup of coffee as well?" I ask, already starting to brew a fresh pot.

"That would be wonderful, thank you," she replies, taking a seat at the kitchen table. I brew the coffee in silence, the only sound the gentle bubbling of the pot. When the coffee is ready, I pour the steaming liquid into two mugs, handing one to the journalist. I take a sip of my coffee, relishing the bitter, aromatic liquid as it warms me from the inside. The journalist cradles the mug in her hands, blowing gently on the surface before taking a sip.

"Mmm, this is so good," she murmurs, "you make a mean cup of coffee."

I grunt in acknowledgment, taking my time to savor every sip.

We sip our coffee in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the occasional slurps from the journalist and I. I finish mine first, setting the empty mug down with a clunk. 

"Alright, let me get dressed. Then we can head out and take a look at your car," I say, already turning to leave the kitchen. As I make my way back to my bedroom, I feel her gaze following me, again. Once in the privacy of my room, I quickly brush my teeth and put on thicker clothes to ward off the chill of the morning air. The snow had fallen all night and I wouldn't want to risk getting a frostbite, so I put on a thick jacket and a pair of boots. Then I head back to the kitchen. I find the journalist waiting for me, already dressed in the clothes she had on last night. 

"Ready when you are," she says with a smirk on her face. I nod, reaching for the front door and holding it open for her.

"After you," I say, waiting for her to step outside before closing and locking the door behind us. Turning to her, I ask, 

"So, where did you park your car?"

She furrows her brow, thinking for a moment.

"You know, I'm not entirely sure. It was pretty dark and snowy last night. I was just so focused on getting somewhere safe that I didn't really pay attention to the details."

I let out an exasperated sigh. Of course she doesn't remember where she left her car.

"Alright, well, let's retrace your steps then. Which direction did you come from when you arrived at my cabin?"

She thinks for another moment, then gestures down the snow-covered streets.

"I think it's this way."

She begins walking down the porch, her eyes scanning the roads. 

"I think I turned off the main road… and then went a little down the street."

She pauses, then continues,

"Yes, I remember seeing that oak tree at the corner."

Nodding, I follow closely behind her, my boots crunching in the fresh snow.

"Okay, lead the way. Hopefully, it's not too far from here."

As she leads the way, I notice the limp in her stride. Her leg must still be sore from the nasty fall she took yesterday. Part of me wants to ask if she's alright, but I quickly push the thought aside. Why should I care? She did get herself into that mess after all. Besides, what exactly was she doing up there, anyway? Peering at me, perhaps? My mind wanders back the moment I spotted her just before she fell. It's hard to tell what was really up to, especially because I didn't see her on time. We turn a corner and she glanced back at me, catching me in the act of studying her.

"Everything alright back there?" She asks, a hint of amusement in her voice. 

I clear my throat.

"Yeah"

She glanced back at me again. 

"I really appreciate you helping me out with this, by the way. I know it's an inconvenience to you, but I'm grateful you're willing to help."

"It's no problem," I reply, though my tone suggests otherwise. "The sooner we get your car running, the sooner you can be on your way."

She chuckles nervously.

"Right, of course. Even so, thank you. I was a bit of a mess last night and a stranger too, but you took me in regardless."

"Well, I couldn't very well leave you stranded in the snow," I reply, trying to downplay my "good deed".

"Besides I'm sure you would have done the same for me."

The journalist chuckles.

"Probably not. I'm not exactly known for being altruistic."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Is that so? Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it," she says with a wry grin.

"I'm a journalist, remember? We're a ruthless bunch."

I smirk. "Well, I'll keep that in mind."

We continue in a comfortable silence, the only sound the crunching of our footsteps in the snow. After what feels like hours but I'm sure is a couple of minutes, the journalist stops and looks around.

"I think it's just around the corner here," she says, sounding uncertain. I follow her as she turns a corner, scanning the street for any sign of her car. Sure enough, a few blocks down, I make out the outline of a car partially buried in the snow.

"There it is! I knew I remembered that tree," she exclaims, picking up her pace. I trail behind,already dreading the work ahead of me. As we approach the car, I notice that the car isn't actually half-buried in snow as I had initially thought. It's just lightly dusted with a thin layer of snow covering the entire surface. The car is a Honda civic, an older model by the looks of it. The civic is in a very rough shape, that much is clear. The once shiny chrome trim is full and tarnished, the bumpers held on by duct tape and prayers. The tires are bald, the rims rusted and I can see several dents and dings in the body panels. The poor car has clearly been through the wringer and it's a wonder that it's even still running. It desperately needs to be replaced, but the journalist doesn't seem to realize that yet. I keep my thoughts to myself though, I don't want to sound rude or judgmental. After all, it isn't my car, and it's not my place to criticize the journalist's choice of car. 

"Alright, let's see if we can get this thing started," I say, approaching the car and motioning for her to get in. She unlocks the door and slides behind the wheel. I watch as she turns the key in the ignition. The engine sputters and coughs, but it dies off. She tries again and again, but the car remains stubbornly silent.

"Looks like we're going to have to tow this back to my place," I say, as she gets out of the car. "The cold weather has take a toll on the battery, and I'd be surprised if the rest of the engine is in a much better shape."

She sighs, her breath forming a small cloud in the frigid air.

"I was afraid of that," she says, her voice tinged with frustration.

"I was really hoping that you would just give me a push or something." I shrug.

"Sorry, but with the condition of your car, a push isn't going to cut it. This thing needs some serious help."

Her face falls.

"So what's the plan?"

"Like I said, we'll need to tow it back to my place so that I can take a closer look at it," I say, circling the car and inspecting it more closely. She nods in agreement. 

"That sounds like a good plan. How are we going to do that?"

I think for a moment, mentally running through my options. 

"I've got a tow strap in my garage. We can hook up to my truck and gently pull the car back to my garage. But it's going to be a bit of a hassle in this snow."

She blinks, eyes widening in surprise. 

"Your garage? I didn't see a garage when I was…" she stops, realizing what she's admitting to. I was right. She was definitely looking around. I scoff, shaking my head.

"That's because it's not attached to cabin. It's a separate building, not far from the cabin actually. So, I'll go get my truck and the tow straps." The journalist nods, her expression a mix of relief and concern. 

"I really appreciate you helping me out with once again." I wave off her gratitude.

"Don't worry about it. Let's just get this done so that you can be on your way."

She nods again. "Alright. I'll just wait here while you go get whatever you need."

I give her a nod and hurry back to my cabin. It takes some minutes but soon I arrive at my cabin. I quickly make my way to the garage. I grab my heavy-duty two straps and hop into my truck, eager to get done with all this. The snow has started coming down now and I drive as quickly as I can. When I reach the spot I had left the journalist, she's still there, shivering slightly in the cold. I pull up in front of her car and get out, the tow straps in hand.

"Alright, let's see what we can do here," I say, walking over to her car. 

"So I'm going to attach these tow straps to the front of your car, and then you can just follow me back to my garage, okay?"

She nods "okay."

"Good," I say, making my way back to my truck. 

"Just give me a minute to get my truck hooked up."

I quickly attach the tow straps to the front of her car, making sure they are secure.

"Alright, go ahead and get in your car," I instruct.

"I'll take the lead and guide you, okay?"

She nods and slides into the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

I hop into my truck, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. This is always the tricky part- navigating the icy roads with a car in tow. I start the engine and slowly drive forward, keeping a close eye on the car behind me. The snow is now coming down heavily, making visibility a challenge, but I know these roads like the back of my hands.

"Just follow my lead," I call out, glancing in the rear view mirror to make sure the journalist is keeping up. 

"Take it slow and steady."

The drive back to the garage is a bit of a white-knuckle affair with the snow making the roads treacherous. But I try my best to guide the car behind me with a steady hand. Finally, we pull into my driveway and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

"Alright, we made it!" I say, hopping out of the truck. "I'll get your car into the garage."

The journalist gets out of her car and follows me, her cheeks flushed from the cold. I lead the way as she follows me behind. As I open the garage and gesture for her to enter, I notice the way her eyes widen in awe.

"You've got a whole workshop in here," she breathes, her gaze darting from one tool to the next. I smirk. 

"Yeah, something like that," I say, walking back to my truck and starting the engine. I guide her car into the garage, carefully maneuvering it into place. Once it's completely inside the garage, I turn off the truck and climb off it. Then I move to the car and disconnect the tow straps.

"So, what actually happened to the car?" I ask, kneeling to inspect the engine. 

"Well, it just wouldn't start," she says shrugging, and I can hear the slight embarrassment in her tone.

"I swear I drove it down here and when it was time to drive back… it just wouldn't start."

"Classic," I mutter, popping the hood and feeling the warm air waft up.

"Let's see if it's just a battery issue."

As I begin checking out, I feel the journalist's eyes on me, studying my every move. 

"You know," she says after a moment,

"You're really good at this."

I glance up, surprised.

"Thanks, but it's just basic mechanics. Anyone can do it with a bit of practice."

"But you enjoy it," she counters, leaning against the car, arms crossed.

"You have your tense shoulders relaxed right now, so I bet it's something you really enjoy doing. Plus, you're doing this with so much ease."

I shrug, not wanting to come across as being overly boastful.

"I've had a lot of practice with car repairs over the years. It's just something I picked up along the way." The journalist nods, her gaze fixated on my hands as they work.

"So, umm, how did you end up with this particular skill set?" She probes, her voice laced with a hint of inquisitiveness. I pause for a moment, considering how I'd want to share with her.

"It's a long story,but let's just say that I've always been interested on how things work. Cars in particular, have always fascinated me."

She nods, her eyes gleaming with interest. 

"I'd love to hear more about it, that's if you don't mind."

I hesitate, weighing the pros and cons of opening up. On one hand, I don't particularly like the idea of being the subject of her prying questions. But on the other hand, I sense that she's genuinely interested, not just looking for a blockbuster story. I clear my throat.

" it all started when I was a kid," I begin, my hands still working on the car.

"My dad was a mechanic and he used to take me to the shop with him on the weekends. I was always fascinated with the way he would diagnose and fix all sort of car issues. It became a passion of mine and eventually, I started helping out at the shop."

"Wow, that's impressive," the journalist says, her tone genuinely admiring.

"It's not everyday you meet a bestselling author who's also a great mechanic."

I shrug, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

"I guess you could say it's a bit of a niche talent. But it's come in handy over the years, that's for sure."

As I continue working on the car, trying to find out what fault it has, the journalist peppers me with more questions, her curiosity seemingly insatiable. I do my best to answer them, though I try to keep the conversation light, rather than delving too deeply into my personal life. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I straighten up and wipe the grease from my hands.

"Alright, I think I've found what the problem is. It looks like your radiator is busted. It also looks like your battery terminals are corroded and your alternator might be on it's last days." 

Her brows furrow.

"Is it that bad?"

I take a step back, considering my words.

"Well, the terminals need a good cleaning. That's an easy fix. But the alternator and radiator…. those are the bigger problems." 

She bites her lips, glancing away.

"Would that cost a lot? Umm.. I really don't have the money for repair right now. I was hoping that it would be something simple to fix." 

Worry etches on her features and it tugs at something in me.

"How about this? I can clean the terminals. The alternator isn't so bad. It should get going for a while. We'll need to replace the radiator though. I've got a spare one in the back that should do the trick. It's not brand new, but it should get you back on the road for a while. And don't worry, you don't need to pay for all of that."

She raises her brows im surprise.

"Really?"

I nod. "Yeah, sure."

Her face lights up with relief and gratitude.

"Oh, thank you so much! I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Yeah, yeah, just get your car looked at as soon as you get back. I didn't want to hurt your feelings but I have to be honest with you- the car is old and has a few more days down the line, it might have other problems too."

Her shoulders slump a little.

"I know it's old, but it's all I have," she admits, her voice barely a whisper.

"I can't afford a new one right now. I just need it to last a bit longer. I glance at her, taking in the sadness in her eyes.

"I get it. Let's just focus on getting you back on the road for now, okay?"

She nods. I close back the hood of her car and I start to head out to the garage when her voice stops me in my tracks.

"Where are you going?"

I turn to face her.

"I need to grab something to eat. This would take a couple of hours and I'll need some strength to go through that," I explain, gesturing towards her car.

Her brows furrow lightly.

"You should eat something too," I add, my tone softening. "You haven't had anything since yesterday."

Before she can respond, I turn and head down the driveway, the snow crunching beneath my boots. As I near the cabin, I hear her footsteps trailing behind me.