Natalie pulled over to the side of the road and put her head down on the steering wheel, fighting back tears. Stay calm, she told herself. Keep it together. But it was hard. It had been a long, crappy day and she just wanted it to be over. She just wanted to find the goddamn place.

The 'goddamn place' was a cabin outside of Big Timber, Montana, population 1804. At least, it said 'cabin' in the ad she'd answered. The description made it sound like a pretty big cabin. Two bedrooms, two baths, large living/eating area. Of course, two bedrooms could mean one small bedroom and a large closet.

Get your mind back on track, you fool, she told herself. Worry about the dimensions when you get there. Right now, let's just get there! She picked up the map and the instructions. She had followed them exactly from the airport in Butte and they had been perfect, right up to the point where there was supposed to be a driveway.

Something passed her from behind, startling her. She looked up to see a white pickup truck disappear around a bend in the road. Dammit! If she had seen it coming, she could have flagged it down and asked for directions. The 'city girl' in her cringed at the thought of flagging down a stranger, but the practical side of her said that there probably weren't too many serial killers traipsing about rural Montana. There just weren't enough victims. And besides, hadn't Montana used up its quota with What's-his-name...the crazy loon who sent those letter bombs...what the hell was his name? Lived in a shack...some sort of math genius...his brother turned him in. It was right on the tip of her tongue.

For God's sakes, Natalie, get a grip. She gave herself a mental shake and forced her mind back to the present situation. Now, she asked herself, do I do one more pass along this road or do I head back to the town?...she checked the map...Big Timber. She sighed. It was thirty miles away. Okay, one more pass and then, if I don't find it, I'll head back to town.

She put the car in gear and turned on her left signal. She looked carefully over her left shoulder. She chuckled at the empty road and wondered why she was bothering to signal. Habit, she guessed. She spun the wheel to the left to make the u-turn. She immediately jammed on the brakes. She had nearly turned into a pickup truck that was making its way slowly along the road. The truck swerved away from her and came to a stop. Natalie was left sitting sideways in the road. The driver jumped down from his truck and started toward her.

How could she have been so stupid? She just hoped he wasn't carrying a gun. She rolled down her window a bit. "I'm so sorr..." she began. But that was as far as she got.

"Are you okay?" he asked with concern in his voice.

"Do you mean 'okay' like 'have I forgotten how to drive'? I'm sor..."

He cut her off again. "No, I mean you...I just drove past here." He motioned back up the road. "You had your head down. I came back to see if you were okay."

"And I very nearly repaid that kindness by t-boning you," she said ruefully. The look he gave her made her wonder if the term 't-boning' as in 'splitting your car in half' was a slang term that hadn't quite reached Montana. "I'm lost," she confessed.

"You better get your car off the road," he said. Then he grinned. "'Cause in an hour or two, another car might come by."

She smiled and nodded. She put the car in reverse, backed up a bit, and then swung in behind the pickup.

"You're a good driver," the man said.

"Because I drove ten feet without hitting anything?" asked Natalie.

"No, because you used your signal every time you changed direction. Now, where do you want to be that you're not?"

She almost said, 'snuggled up next to you', but managed to clamp her lips together at the last moment. This was a seriously handsome man. When he had first walked up to her car, the part of her brain that wasn't in fear for her life was admiring the man - 6 foot something, in a pair of faded Levis and a grey and blue checked shirt. The Levis were faded because he had had them that long, not because they came that way. And the shirt fit him like a second skin. A line of music ran through her head. 'You're a fine piece of real estate' What was that from? Great! Now she had two things to keep her awake tonight - the song title and the Mad Bomber.

She looked up at the ice-blue eyes and the chiseled jaw. "I've rented a cabin around here, but I can't seem to find it." She fumbled among the papers on the passenger seat, searching for the contract.

"Hawk's Nest?" he asked, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes.

"Yes!" she said, relief flooding her body. He'd heard of it!

"I keep telling Nate he oughta fix that sign."

"Sign? What sign?"

"Well, there you go. My point exactly." He paused.

"So, you know where this place is?" she inquired.

He nodded. "Yep. Just around the bend. You'll have to turn the car again. There's a break in the trees. You can follow me." He walked back to the truck. Natalie enjoyed watching him walk away from her. Wow! Stop that, her brain told her. You're not here for that. My God! That's what got you here in the first place.

He swung the truck around on the road and she followed. He drove slowly around the bend. He must think I'm a moron, she thought. He's going so slowly. But then she realized why. He wasn't completely around the bend before he signaled right and turned into...well, if there was a road there, she sure couldn't see it.

She followed the truck and as soon as she made the turn, she realized that it was indeed a road. She also realized that the reason she had missed it the four times she had gone up and down the highway was because at the exact moment that she should have been looking for the road, she was concentrating on the bend.

She followed the truck for ¼ mile uphill through trees. Suddenly, they came to a clearing and there it was. It looked great from the outside - a log cabin with a wide front porch. There was a half-barrel on either side of the steps, overflowing with pink petunias. Baskets of the same were hanging at the corners of the porch.

"Pretty," she said, getting out of her car.

"Yep. Nate keeps the place nice. He lives over that hill. This was his sister's place. She designed it. Then she died..." He paused.

"Not in the house," he hastened to add. He stopped, blushing.

"It's okay," Natalie said with a smile. "I'm not squeamish." She held out her hand. "I'm Natalie Reardon. Thanks so much for your help..."

"Ty...Ty Harper," he answered, shaking her hand. "My place is just a couple of miles up the road," he added. "If you need anything, just come by or call. Harper Farms. Sheep." He hesitated. "I wonder if the phone is on. There hasn't been anyone staying here lately. Nate usually turns stuff off."

"I have a whole list of instructions on how to open the place," laughed Natalie. She walked around to the back of her car and opened the trunk.

"Let me help you with that," said Ty. Natalie was pretty sure she was falling in love with the sound of his voice. "Well now, this sure is heavy for such a little bag."

"That's my computer," said Natalie. "I'm a writer."

"I hope you aren't planning on using the Internet," said Ty, stepping up onto the porch. "I'm pretty sure there's no connection for that here."

"No, I'm not," said Natalie. "I'm here to get away from the world. It will just have to get along without me for the next month. I'm here for peace and quiet and to get some work done." She lifted the Welcome mat and picked up the key.

"Well, I'll just get out of your way then," said Ty, setting her suitcase down inside the door and placing her briefcase carefully on the kitchen counter at the back of the cabin.

You idiot, she told herself. Nothing like pushing the guy away. She smiled at him. "Thanks again for your help. And if you don't mind..." She fished a pen and a credit card receipt out of her purse. "I wouldn't mind having your phone number...just in case."

Ty told her the number and she wrote it down on the receipt. She wrote 'Ty' above it and looked around the room. She spotted the phone hanging on the wall by the fridge. She walked over and picked it up. There was no dial tone.

"It must not be hooked up yet," she said. She pulled an 'I Heart Montana' magnet off the fridge and secured the phone number with it.

"Hmmm..." said Ty. Even in rural Montana, it wasn't good to be without a phone. "I'll tell you what - I'll call you tomorrow morning and if I don't get through, I'll try every so often. If I don't get through by the afternoon, I'll call Nate. He's in Florida right now, but I've got his number."

"Why would anyone leave this beautiful spot in the summer to go to Florida?" she blurted out.

Ty grinned at her. She barely suppressed a moan. "He's visiting his sister...his other sister, not..." He blushed and made a kind of 'aw shucks' movement with his shoulder that made Natalie's toes start to curl up. She laughed and so did he.

"Well, Natalie, it was nice to meet you. I'll just get along now and let you get started on your peace and quiet." He moved to the door. "And I'll call you in the morning. How early is too early?"

"Oh, any time. I'm a morning person." She realized that a 'morning person' on a Montana sheep farm might be up long before a 'morning person' from New York City. "Seven?" she asked.

He nodded at her. "Okay."

She followed him onto the porch and watched him get into his truck. They waved to each other and she stood there until his truck disappeared from view.

Mm, mm, mm...now that was a fine looking man! Natalie retrieved the rest of her belongings from the back seat of the car. These consisted of a printer and some bags of groceries. She set everything down and surveyed the place.

The cabin was wide, but not deep. She was standing in the living room. Doors led off to rooms on either side. The kitchen was at the back. It was open to the living room, separated only by a counter. A small table and two chairs sat by the front window to her right. She bent over and looked at the wall. Perfect, she thought, when she spotted the electrical outlet. She put the box with the printer on the table and retrieved her briefcase with her computer from the counter. She sat on the chair and looked out the window. Perfect, she thought again.

She moved across to the other wall where there were two doors. The first led to a bedroom, not the size of a closet exactly, but not large. It held a brass bed - a double - and a dresser. There was no closet but further searching revealed a set of four brass hooks on the back of the door. A small nightstand held a lamp with a frilly, pink shade. The bed was unmade. Natalie sat down on the mattress and bounced a couple of times. Not bad, but she liked a firmer mattress. There was a window on the other side of the bed, but it had dark curtains drawn across it and she couldn't see the view.

The next door led to the bathroom. Nicely appointed, very clean, shower and tub. Two folding doors in the wall opened to show a washer and dryer. Perfect!

She moved to the other side of the living room. Two doors by the kitchen were closets - one holding cleaning supplies and an upright vacuum and the other shelves full of linens.

The third door led to the second bedroom. Well, the first bedroom, she corrected herself. The master bedroom. It was beautiful. It had a brass bed and dresser, similar to the ones in the other room. But it had room for a night table on either side of the bed...and an armchair and a floor lamp at the foot of it. And there was a closet. She opened a door to find two rods about four feet long going down either side of the small room. Plastic hangers...lots of them, thought Natalie...hung from the rods.

She pulled open the curtains on a large window to see a spectacular view of the trees and the mountains in the distance. She moved to the head of the bed, where there was another door. She opened it to find another bathroom, smaller this time, only a toilet and sink. Perfect! She sat on the bed, bouncing to test the firmness. Perfect! The whole place was just perfect!

Natalie went back to the main room. There was a stereo sitting on a bookcase, but no television. She sat on the sofa and then in the armchair. She smiled. Each piece was placed to give the person in it a great view out the windows. She thought she preferred the armchair. She turned sideways and hung her legs over the side, adopting her usual reading position. The view was even better! She laughed to herself. The dead sister, God rest her soul, knew how to sit in an armchair.

Natalie stood up and went to work, inspecting the contents of the kitchen cupboards and putting away groceries. In a basket on the counter was a pad of paper. It was headed 'Stuff I probably won't get done today' and had a picture of a very harried-looking secretary. Not very encouraging, thought Natalie. She set it on the counter and put a pencil beside it. As she moved through the kitchen, unpacking the groceries, she made notations on the list. She had purchased enough supplies to get her through a couple of meals, but she hadn't wanted to buy things like steak sauce and salad dressing, until she checked out the cabin.

There was supposed to be a barbecue, she remembered and opened the door in the back wall. She stepped out onto a small porch. Two steps led down to a stone patio. A new-looking gas barbecue sat on the corner of it. She went over and looked at the propane tank. It had a gauge on it. The arrow pointed to Full. Good, she thought. If the power goes out or something, I can still cook.

Natalie looked around her. The cabin was nestled against a hill. The front of it and the side with her bedroom faced the downward slope and enjoyed the incredible view of the trees and the mountains off in the distance. The back of the house and the side with the small bedroom were up against the hill and had no view. There were a couple of molded plastic chairs and a table on the patio, but none of the comfortable padded chairs of white wicker that adorned the front porch.

This was someone's dream house, she thought. The front porch for sitting and the back patio for eating. The area was sheltered by the hill, and there would be little wind to disturb someone dining
al fresco. Natalie went back into the house. Yes, the sister would have had the big bedroom for herself and the small one for guests...or junk, thought Natalie. She knew what the second bedroom in her apartment was used for and figured Nate's sister had probably done the same. She thought she liked Nate's sister a lot and wanted to know her name. She'd try to find a way to ask Ty when he called tomorrow.

She got some linen out of the closet and made up the bed. She opened a can of spaghetti sauce and put it on to warm. She sautéed some onions, mushrooms and peppers and tossed them into the sauce. While the sauce was simmering, she unpacked her suitcase, putting everything away neatly in the dresser and the closet, telling herself sternly that she would be neat this time, not the usual slob she was at home when she was working.

She went back into the kitchen and put water on to boil for the pasta. She thought about making a salad; there was oil and vinegar in the cupboard. But she decided against it. It had been a long day and she was tired. It was going to be dark soon and she figured a plate of spaghetti and a glass of wine would do. And then into bed.

She picked up the phone. Still no dial tone. Peace and quiet, she thought. Peace and quiet for a whole month. Just the sound of boiling water and simmering sauce. Peace and quiet.

The sound of a car door slamming made her look up. She didn't know it yet, but her peace and quiet was already over!

Natalie heard footsteps on the porch. Ty? she wondered. She moved slowly to the door. What if it wasn't? She heard the other person rustling around and muttering. It sounded like a man. She turned on a table lamp, flooding the room with light. She hadn't realized how dark it was getting. The muttering ceased. There was a knock on the door. She opened it.

"For God's sakes," said a man on the porch. He pushed past her into the cabin. "This has been a day straight from hell. Why don't you have this place more clearly marked? Do you know how many times I drove up and down that road looking for it?"

Four, she thought, wondering who this man was. He was good-looking, but short for a man, maybe 5'6". He was nicely-built, though. He had curly hair and brown eyes. Those eyes were blazing at the moment.

"I had to drive all the way back to the town. Do you know how far away that is?" he demanded.

"Thirty miles," she answered.

"Exactly. So sixty miles out of my way, after the four journeys back and forth."

She smiled. So, it was four! Interesting.

"You think that's funny!?" He turned on his heel and went out the door, returning in a moment with a large suitcase. "Where's the bedroom?"

"Excuse me, who are you?" she inquired.

"I'm the tenant," he answered and then sniffed the air. He looked over at the kitchen. "Hey, I'm sorry," he said. "It was nice of you to stay and wait for me and even to cook for me, but really, it's your fault in the first place. If you had a sign..."

"Shut up for a minute," said Natalie, breaking across his words. He did. Natalie continued, "What do you mean, 'tenant'?" She had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"I mean I've rented this place for two weeks." He looked at her oddly. Why didn't she know that? "This is Hawk's Nest, right?"

"Yes, it is, but..."

"Well, there you go. I rented this from Kate McAllister for the next two weeks..."

"No, I rented this from Nate McAllister for the next month," said Natalie firmly. "And I have a contract to prove it."

"So do I," said the man, looking around him. "It's in the car."

"Mine's right here," said Natalie, triumphantly, as if having her contract in the actual building made her the winner.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"I guess we've got a bit of a situation here," he said. He looked at his watch and sighed. He walked over to the phone and picked it up.

"It's not hooked up yet," said Natalie. "My name is Natalie Reardon, by the way," she added.

"Howie Dorough," he said absently, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and punching buttons on it. "Damn! There's no signal." He looked around. "I'm in hell," he muttered.

"No, Montana," said Natalie. "I think there was a motel just this side of Big Timber." She floated the suggestion out hopefully. "And then in the morning..."

"No way!" he said brusquely, dashing those hopes. "I've rented this place and I'm staying." There was no way he was leaving it to her, even for one night. And besides, he was not getting back in that car. "Your water's boiling," he said.

Natalie looked over her shoulder. She was hungry. He probably was too. "I'm making spaghetti. Would you like some?"

"That would be great," he said. "I'm starving. The food on the plane was awful and I've been driving for hours."

What a whiner! she thought and then felt slightly guilty. She'd had the same thoughts herself until Ty Harper had come along and rescued her. She pulled the makings for salad out of the fridge. "You said 'Kate McAllister'?"

"Yes, she lives in Orlando. This is her place."

"No, it's Nate's. He must be her brother. He's visiting his sister in Florida."

"That's right. She's a friend of my mother's and she said that Nate hadn't had any renters for awhile. I was looking for some peace and quiet, so she suggested I come here." He looked around. "This is a family place, belonged to their sister. She died a couple of years ago."

"Do you know her name?" asked Natalie.

Howie furrowed his brow. "I don't know her real name. Kate called her Bitsy."

Natalie was disappointed. The woman who designed this cabin didn't have a name like Bitsy.

"She hated being called that, apparently," Howie went on. "She and Kate didn't get along that well."

Natalie felt better. She was already well on her way to hating Kate McAllister for having ruined her first day of peace and quiet by putting this Howie-person in her path, and now to think she had treated her sister this way The sister was assuming mythic proportions in Natalie's head.

She had Howie move the printer box and her computer and she set the table. She offered him a glass of wine and he accepted, offering to open the bottle for her. They carried the wine and their plates to the table and sat down. They began talking at the same time.

"I'm sorry that you came all this way..."

"It's a shame that you came so far..."

"...for nothing. You'll be able to..."

"...only to have to leave..."

"...get your money back..."

"...you'll get a refund, of course..."

"...but I have to stay..."

"...but I have no choice..."

"...because of my job..."

"...it's work-related..."

"...it's important..."

"...it's essential that I get..."

"...I need peace..."

"...peace and quiet..."

"...and quiet..."

And then both together. "I'm a writer."

They stopped.

"What do you write?" asked Howie.

"Mysteries," said Natalie. "What do you write?"

"Songs," he answered.

They stared at each other.

"Have you been published? Should I have heard of you?" Howie asked.

Natalie thought she was offended, but she wasn't sure. "Do you read many mysteries?" she asked.

"They're okay...not my favorite thing to read. Too contrived."

Now she was sure she was offended. "I've published five and I'm working on 'six'. That's why I came here. I have to meet a deadline. And I needed a place with no distractions." An image of Ty Harper flitted across her brain.

"Well, same here," said Howie. He wasn't giving up any ground to her. She was clever, all right, throwing out the 'deadline'. Well, he had deadlines too!

"Have I ever heard of you?" she asked. "I mean, any of your songs."

"What Makes You Different," he said.

She looked at him. What was he asking her?

"It's a song," he said. "'What Makes You Different' is the title."

"Oh, sorry," she said and then shook her head. She'd never heard of it.

"It was on a film soundtrack The Princess Diaries."

"Oh, a teen movie," she said.

Howie thought he was offended. "And um...one called 'How Did I Fall In Love With You?'"

"Long title," she muttered and he knew he was offended.

"And some others...for other artists..." he continued.

Other artists? "You mean you sing them too?"

Howie took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm part of a group." He paused. "The Backstreet Boys."

"I heard they broke up," she said mildly, reaching for the wine bottle. She missed the look of pain that moved across his eyes.

"No, we're only taking a break. For a year or so. We're working on individual projects."

She nodded. Okay. It didn't really matter to her.

He tried to gain the advantage. "I'm making a solo CD and I have to write a couple more songs and work on a few others," he said, stating his case firmly.

"Well, you'll have to do it somewhere else," she said, equally firmly. "Because this is my place for the next month."

"What date did you sign the contract?" he asked.

"What date did you sign yours?" she countered. They stared at each other, neither wanting to tell in case it made them the loser.

"I told you the contract is in the car," said Howie. "Look, can we settle this in the morning? There's two bedrooms here, right?" He tried to look as harmless as possible.

Natalie gave the idea some thought and then she nodded. "My stuff's in here," she said, pointing to her room. "You can have that one," she added. She stood up and went to the linen cupboard. Here's some stuff to make the bed," she said.

"Thanks," he said, opening the door. "It's kinda small," he muttered under his breath. "Well, do you want the bathroom first or...?"

"I have my own," she said, trying again to establish herself as the rightful resident.

"Of course, you do," he said grudgingly. He took the sheets into the bedroom and came back out a moment later. He picked up the dishes from the table and carried them to the sink. Then he grabbed his suitcase and went back into the bedroom.

Like he owns the place, Natalie thought, trying to keep her anger and indignation going. She was going to need it in the morning. He had a bit of an advantage because he knew one of the McAllisters personally, but possession was 9/10s of the law, so they said, and she had got here first!

"Ted Kaczynski," she said out loud.

"Pardon?" Howie had come back into the room.

"Ted Kaczynski." She repeated the name. "The Unabomber. He lived in Montana."

Howie didn't have a clue what she was talking about? Was she afraid of him? "Um...I...um...I don't see any locks on the bedroom doors, but um...I just want to say...you're not in any danger...I mean...I..."

"I'm not worried," said Natalie sarcastically. "After all, you're a Backstreet Boy. That makes you pretty harmless, doesn't it?"

Howie glared at her. "Yeah, and I'm the Sweet One," he added with equal sarcasm. He went into the bedroom and closed the door. A few minutes later, Natalie did the same.

Howie woke up suddenly. He could hear something. What was it? Ticketa, ticketa... He looked around and remembered where he was...and what he had to do today. Dammit! He should have wakened earlier. For some reason, he felt that she had the advantage by having gotten up before him.

He got out of bed and pulled on his pants. He grabbed a clean shirt and slipped it over his arms. He opened the bedroom door and peered out. Natalie was sitting at the table typing. Ticketa, ticketa... She didn't see him.

Howie moved quickly to the bathroom. Should he have a shower or go out and face her? Get it over with? No, he decided. He had a shower every day and this would be no different. He would act like he owned the place. He grimaced at the mirror...or had at least rented it for the next two weeks. He had a shower and did his morning routine. Satisfied that he was ready to face the day...and the girl...he opened the bathroom door and stepped out. "Good morning," he said.

Natalie was no longer at the computer. She had shut it down when she heard him in the shower. She had moved about the room, sitting in this chair and then that one, standing at the counter, first on one side and then the other, trying to find the spot that would give her the advantage. She finally settled on the kitchen side of the counter. Yes, that was it. It made her seem to be in charge. That's what she would do, she decided. Act like she owned the place and treat him like a guest. A guest who would be leaving shortly.

"Good morning," she responded. "I'm sorry I can't offer you coffee, but I don't drink it."

"I prefer tea, anyway," said Howie, walking past her to plug in the kettle.

"Me too," she said. "I have some here."

"I have my own," said Howie. "In the car." He walked out the front door and returned with a box of groceries. He dropped it on the counter and left again before Natalie had a chance to stop him. He returned with a guitar case and a briefcase. "There!" he said with satisfaction. "All moved in."

"Well, you can just 'all move out'", said Natalie, indignantly. "This is my place for the next month."

"Well, I'm staying here for the next two weeks. You can leave and come back for the last two."

"No, you leave," said Natalie.

Another staring contest let them both know that the other was not going to back down.

"Get your contract," said Natalie, finally.

"Fine," said Howie, moving to his briefcase. Okay, then, that was the way it would be. "Whoever signed the contract first gets the cabin. Deal?"

"Deal!" said Natalie.

Each of them flung the contract down on the counter and they said together, "June 7."

What? No, this wasn't possible. They picked up each other's contract in disbelief.

"Looks like we'll have to get lawyers involved," said Howie, hoping that would intimidate her into giving up. He should have known better.

"Typical man," she retorted. "Threatening to bring a lawyer into it."

Howie felt ashamed and angry at the same time. Typical man? What did that mean?

"Why don't you do that?" Natalie continued. "Why don't you go into town and find a lawyer and sue me? Come back when it's all settled and let me know how it turned out."

They stood toe-to-toe, glaring at each other. The whistling of the tea kettle brought this latest battle of wills to an end. Howie moved to the kettle and Natalie walked into the living room. She stood with her back to him looking out the window.

"Do we have any milk?" he asked, opening the fridge.

"No, we have to get some," said Natalie absently.

They stood for a long moment, not looking at each other, turning the pronouns over in their head. Finally, they each gave a long sigh and turned to each other.

"Look, Howie..." Natalie began.

"Natalie, I think..." Howie started.

"No, I want you to listen to me," she said, holding up her index finger to silence him. She paused and then began again. "I believe that I am in the right here and..." She raised the finger again to stop his protest. "...and I believe that eventually, that would be proven. But I don't have time for that. I have a deadline to meet. You obviously have work to do too, so is there some kind of compromise that we can reach...some way to resolve this situation?"

Finally, thought Howie, finally she was being reasonable. He had enough sense not to say that out loud. "Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I think we can do that. We are both here to work, as you say. We should be able to come up with some sort of schedule that will suit us both."

Natalie didn't really care about suiting him. She just wanted to get the whole thing over with so she could get to work. She'd gotten a lot done this morning while he had been sleeping. If he slept in every day...

"I've started a list of things we need," she said. "Why don't you drive into town and get them and I can..."

She didn't get any further. Howie's slow shake of his head let her know that he was onto her.

"I don't think so," he said. He smiled at her. "I might just find myself locked out when I get back."

"I wouldn't," she said, but she blushed. "Okay, then...we'll go to town together. What do you have in the box?"

They passed a reasonable half hour discussing groceries, going over the contents of his box and her supplies. They made up menus for the next three days and agreed to split the cost of the food down the middle.

"I need to buy a power bar to set up my printer," said Natalie when they were done. "I'll pay for that myself, of course." Howie nodded. Okay. He held up his car keys. I'll drive? He wondered if they were now going to have a battle over whose car to take, but Natalie just nodded. Fine with her. She picked up her purse and they walked to the door. She locked it carefully and dropped the key into her purse, wondering if he would take issue with her keeping it. He didn't.

"Well, do you think we can do this without having to put a line of duct tape down the middle of the cabin to separate our two halves?" Howie asked, with a grin, opening the car door for her.

"I hope so," said Natalie, "because I...uh...need...um...I don't have a shower in my bathroom. I'll need to use yours." She had settled for a sponge bath this morning because she didn't want to wake him, but she liked to start her day off with a shower. And a long day of typing usually ended in a long soak in the tub.

"What do you have on your side to trade for the privilege?" Howie gave a smile that he hoped was charming. Natalie thought he looked smug.

She thought for a moment. "Closet space," she said, finally.

Howie thought that over. "Okay," he said slowly. "Closet space for shower privileges. Deal." He held out his hand. She shook it and got into the car.

They drove down the hill and turned out onto the road. They both looked back at the entrance, hoping they'd be able to find it again when they came back. Natalie suggested that maybe Howie should take his shirt off and tie it around a tree to mark their path. He laughed and they took an infinitesimal step toward harmony.

"How did you find it?" he asked.

"I didn't. I was hopelessly frustrated and all set to turn back to town, when a Good Samaritan happened by." She smiled at the memory of Ty in his jeans. "A local farmer. Sheep."

"You're lucky. I did have to go back to town...where I got treated like the village idiot. Or should I say, the Big City Idiot. 'What's your problem, boy? Too many trees?'" Howie shook his head ruefully. "They didn't actually say that, but you could tell that's what they were thinking."

Natalie laughed. "And what big city are you from?"

"Orlando. But I have a place in L.A. too. I spend a lot of time there. How about you?"

"The Big Apple," she answered. "New York City."

"Oh, got a loft in SoHo?" he asked. He didn't mean it to sound as sarcastic as it did.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," she said primly. And that was the end of that conversation.

To fill the gap of silence that got more and more oppressive and threatened to crush them both, Howie turned on the radio. He fiddled with the buttons, trying to find a station. There weren't many and they were all country and western.

"Keep your eyes on the road," said Natalie. "I'll do it."

"I don't know where everything is yet," said Howie, apologetically. "It's a rental car. I got it at the airport."

"Well, I didn't think you drove all the way from Florida," responded Natalie. She didn't mean it to sound as sarcastic as it did.

"Of course not," he said primly. And that was the end of that conversation.

Both were relieved when they passed the sign that said "Welcome to Big Timber. Population 1804." They drove past a couple of streets, each looking down them to see what was there. Not much. Finally, at the third street, Howie turned right. "McLeod St. I think this is the main area," he said. He pulled the car into a parking spot.

They got out of the car and looked around. It was Tuesday, mid-morning, and there wasn't a lot happening. Natalie figured that most of the population resided on the surrounding farms and that's where they would be right now. "Pretty town," remarked Natalie. Howie smiled. Yes, it was.

They walked along the street, surveying the shops. The buildings were all neatly-kept and many looked freshly painted. Spruced up for the tourist trade, Natalie guessed. She and Howie kept their distance from each other as they walked. Howie had his hands shoved in his pockets. Natalie had her purse over her shoulder and was gripping it with both hands. They ambled past Rue's TV and Appliances and Little Timber Quilts. They looked in the windows of Ace Hardware and Pioneer Antiques. They saw a pizza parlor, Prospectors Pizza, and a fancier restaurant all done up like a saloon. The Grand. But no grocery store.

"Where did you get your groceries?" asked Howie. "I bought mine in Butte. There was a mall just past the airport.

"Same here," said Natalie. "I had to pick up the printer. I didn't want to bring one on the plane, so I arranged to get one here. There was a grocery store beside the Staples."

"Well, there must be one here someplace," he said. "They must eat something besides sheep."

"I don't think they eat the sheep," said Natalie. She didn't mean for it to sound sarcastic.

"Excuse me," said Howie, stopping an old man on the street. "Can you tell me, is there a grocery store in town?"

The old man looked him up and down. City Slicker. The thought was written all over his face. "'Course there is, young fella, what do you think we eat? You want the Big Tiga, over on 3rd St. It's just round the corner, next to Crazy Jane's."

Howie thanked him politely and they walked back to the car. Just round the corner might mean a lot of miles in Montana. And there would be groceries to be carried.

"Did he say Big Tiger?" asked Natalie.

"That's what it sounded like," said Howie. "Nope...it was Tiga...there it is. And there's a parking spot out in front." They both felt that city folks feeling of joy that went with a parking spot within sight of the final destination. They also both felt a little foolish at how close the grocery store was to where they had originally parked.

Natalie looked around. There was a small park across the street. Two old men sat on a bench under a tree playing checkers. Crazy Jane's turned out to be a restaurant, one for the locals, she guessed. There didn't seem to be a theme to it, just a small café with gingham curtains. Through the window, she could see several people nursing coffee cups.

They went into the grocery store and shopped, buying all of the items on the list. They even found the power bar. Howie pushed the cart and Natalie filled it. They set the items on the conveyor belt at one of the two checkouts. There was no express line here. There were also no other customers. There was just one teenaged boy in a green apron stocking shelves and there was one cashier. The cashier, her name tag said Jackie, was a short, middle-aged woman with gunmetal grey hair that was so tightly curled to her head that it looked like steel wool. She ran the groceries through at lightning speed, not looking at one price tag or the keys on the cash register.

Howie reached for his wallet. "I'll get this and we can settle up later," he said. Natalie didn't want to do that. It meant she owed him something right from the start. "I only have large bills," he continued. "I need to get change." She nodded in reluctant acquiescence.

The door opened as a young mother with two small children came in. A delicious smell wafted in after them. Cinnamon! It reminded Howie and Natalie that they hadn't had anything to eat so far but a cup of tea and a shared helping of crow!

"That smells good," said Howie.

Jackie laughed. "Crazy Jane's cinnamon buns. They're delicious. There's probably eight or nine guys sitting over there now waiting for them to come out of the oven."

Natalie and Howie looked at each other. Shall we?

"Go try 'em," said Jackie. "I'll bet you a buck you take some home with you."

If Jackie hadn't convinced them, the smell from the restaurant would have. When they stepped into the street, they both inhaled deeply. "Heaven smells like that, I think," said Natalie. Howie nodded. They loaded the groceries into the trunk and went into the restaurant. The men who had been lingering over coffee were now munching away on warm cinnamon buns. Howie and Natalie ordered tea and buns and agreed that it was the best thing they had ever eaten. They bought half a dozen to take back with them.

The drive home was more comfortable than the drive in. It was settled. They were doing this together. They had the cinnamon buns to prove it. In their minds, they both made a conscious decision to try and get along. They didn't have to fight each other any more. They could do this. They talked about the town and the cinnamon buns and when that conversational well ran dry, they sat in comfortable silence.

Howie slowed the car to a crawl when they got to the bend and Natalie peered carefully out the window. Still, they almost missed it. "There it is," said Natalie suddenly and Howie hit the brakes. He swung the wheel hard right and found the road.

At the top of the hill, they came into the clearing. Leaning against his white pickup, with a frown on his face, was Ty Harper.

Natalie's face lit up. "Ty!" she said under her breath. She looked at Howie. "He's the man that rescued me."

"Lucky you," thought Howie. He didn't think the guy looked like a farmer. He thought he looked like the Marlborough Man. The Man was leaning against a pickup truck - jeans, checked shirt, cowboy hat. He was a good looking man and Howie could see that he had an effect on Natalie. He was like a combination of Kevin and Nick, Howie mused. The blond coloring combined with the muscles and the angular face.

Ty came toward Natalie as she got out of the car. He glanced over at Howie. "There you are," he said to her. "I was getting a little worried."

That thought warmed Natalie's heart. He had worried about her.

"I called you like I said I would. The phone's working, by the way. But there wasn't any answer. I didn't know if you'd gone to town but I figured I'd swing by here anyway...since I was out Your car was here, but you weren't. I thought maybe you'd gone for a walk or something..."

"We went to town for groceries," said Natalie. They both looked over at Howie, who was lifting bags out of the trunk.

"This is my Good Samaritan," said Natalie to Howie. "Ty...Ty Harper."

Ty reached out a large hand to shake Howie's. Howie's hands were full of grocery bags and he had to set them down in the dirt to shake hands. Howie wished he were taller and his name was Dirk or Chet. "Howard...Howard Dorough," he answered, and wasn't pleased with the smile that threatened at the corners of Natalie's mouth. "Call me Howie," he said.

"Howie," said Ty, nodding and gripping Howie's hand firmly. "Mine's a short form too."

"Tyler? Tyrone?" Howie guessed.

Ty wrinkled his nose. "NoTyrus..."

"And your middle name is Raymond?" asked Natalie.

Ty nodded and Howie wondered how the hell she knew that. She beamed at Ty. "Somebody in your family was a big fan!" Big fan of what? wondered Howie.

"My mom," said Ty. "And trust her to name me after the meanest sumbitch to ever put on a baseball uniform. Pardon my language." He ducked his head in apology. Natalie's heart fluttered.

"She must have been a history buff, as well," said Natalie. "Ty Cobb was long gone when you were born."

"It could have been worse, I guess," said Ty. "She could have named me after Carleton Fisk."

Natalie laughed. "Or Thurman Munson."

All this baseball bonding was too much for Howie. He picked up the groceries and stepped up onto the porch. He figured he'd establish his domain over the house by going inside. Too late, he remembered that the door was locked and that Natalie had the key. He looked at her and hefted the bags. She got out the key and opened the door. "There you go," she said, as if he were her manservant. Howie had no choice but to go into the house. He left the door open. He wanted to hear how she explained him.

Ty was wondering how she was going to explain him as well. When the car had come into the clearing, he was surprised to see two of them in it. She had given him the impression that she was here on her own...all that talk about peace and quiet and taking his phone number, 'just in case'.

Ty had looked at her as she got out of the car and wondered how he felt. She was pretty...and tall for a girl...5'6" maybe... She had brown hair, cut short, and brown eyes. He had been very taken with her the day before. She seemed so helpless and so brash at the same time. Not like any of the girls here in Montana. Not like Mandy, that was for sure. Montana girls were self-reliant and capable, but when they got in the company of men on a social basis, they knew enough to bow their heads and behave. He didn't think this one was so good at behaving.

"There was a mix-up with the cabin," she said. "Apparently, Kate in Florida and Nate in Montana don't have much in the way of conversation. They both rented out the cabin...on the same day, no less." Then she added needlessly, "June 7."

Ty was confused. So they were just moving in together? Just like that? "Do you two know each other?" he asked.

"No," said Natalie, with a sigh. "But I'm sure by the end of his two weeks, we will." Then she realized how that sounded and she tried to backtrack. "I mean..."

"We're putting duct tape down the middle of the cabin." Howie rescued her from the doorway. "We're both here to work," he added, stepping out onto the porch. "We figured it would be easier to just get along than to waste time fighting over who was the legal tenant."

Ty nodded, but he still didn't get it. Howie looked from Natalie to Ty. He was feeling very superior at the moment. He had the high ground, what with standing on the porch and all, and he was the only one who wasn't uncomfortable. He decided to be generous. "Maybe some night, you'd like to come over for dinner...you and...your wife?" He finished that on a question.

Ty shook his head. "I'm not married yet."

Bit of an enigmatic answer, thought Natalie. She enjoyed the 'I'm not married' part, but would have liked a fuller explanation of 'yet'.

There was a small silence which threatened to become awkward. "Well," said Ty, "Just wanted to let you know that the phone's working and see if you were okay."

"Thanks," said Natalie, "I appreciate it."

Ty tipped his hat to Natalie and nodded to Howie. He got into his pickup and drove off. Neither Natalie nor Howie moved until the truck was gone from sight.

"Guess I better get busy," said Howie, softly and he turned and went into the cabin.

"Yes," said Natalie, "We're here to work. So let's get organized."

They put away all the groceries. Natalie took the power bar and plugged it into the outlet by the wall. She picked up a smaller table and moved it over beside the larger one. If she had just been on her own, she would have simply moved her laptop out of the way when she wanted to eat, but she figured that with someone else here, she would have to be more civilized and actually set the table. So that meant the printer had to sit somewhere else.

Howie enjoyed the view of her bending over to plug the power bar in. He offered to make sandwiches for lunch while she was connecting the printer. She thanked him politely and then spent the next twenty minutes getting more and more frustrated. She wrestled the printer out of the box, chipping bits off the styrofoam packing. The tiny, white particles kept clinging to her. The more she tried to brush them off, the more static electricity she created, and the more bits that jumped out of the box and onto her.

She heard a snort from behind her but when she looked around, Howie was diligently making sandwiches and seemingly paying no attention to her. Finally, she threw the box on the floor and positioned the printer. She hooked up the cable to her laptop and plugged both into the power bar. She booted up her computer and put the printer software in. She kept getting an error message, saying that no new hardware had been found. She took the software out and put it back in. She rebooted the computer. And each time she got the error message, her shoulders got a little stiffer.

"Dammit," she said, after the third try. "Why won't it recognize the printer?"

Howie could see what the problem was, but he had hoped she would figure it out herself. "Um..." he said softly, "have you...um...plugged it in?"

"Of course, I've plugged it in. What do you think, I'm an idiot!?" She took out her frustration on him.

There was no satisfaction for him in his retaliation. He figured he'd pay for it sooner or later. "Did you turn on the power bar?" he asked, knowing that she hadn't, that she had been running the computer on its battery power.

She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing rebuke, but swallowed it quickly. She looked under the table and sheepishly pushed the red button. The printer started whirring and screeching and her screen lit up with messages about Installing New Hardware. "Thanks," she muttered without looking at him. You stupid idiot, she told herself. What a typical 'woman' thing to do!

"Lunch is served," said Howie, when she finally had it all working.

Natalie switched off the printer and shut down her laptop. "I think I'll just leave the power bar on," she muttered.

"Good idea," murmured Howie.

They ate the sandwiches in silence. When they were done, Natalie picked up the plates and stood up. Howie stood up when she did. She carried them to the kitchen and turned back to see that Howie had opened his briefcase and taken out a pen and a pad of paper.

"Okay," he said. "How are we going to do this? How are we going to divide up the day?"

"Well," said Natalie. "I get up early. I like to write in the morning. Then in the afternoon, depending on how much I've written, I like to have a nap. Then I get up and proofread what I wrote in the morning and maybe make some notes. I don't write any more that day, though." She motioned to her right shoulder. "Sometimes it cramps up."

Howie thought that over. "Okay, I think I can work around that. I like to sleep in a bit in the mornings and then work out. I usually start working then, but I guess I can leave it until the afternoon. I work until I'm done, sometimes into the evening...as long as the Muse is with me, I guess."

Natalie nodded, but wasn't sure how to take the comment. Did that mean that she didn't have a Muse? Just because she could work to a schedule? She remembered that he had said he thought mysteries were 'contrived'. She was all set to get offended again, but stopped herself. Come on, Nat, you have to spend two weeks with the guy. Try and get along.

"I guess we have the rudiments of a plan," she said.

He smiled at her.

"What?" she said.

"You use big words," he said. "No, no..." he added. He could see that he had offended her again. "I like it." Boy, she was touchy. This could be an interesting two weeks.

"Well, it's the afternoon," she said. "It's your time to work. I think I'll go for a walk and then have a nap. Okay?"

Howie nodded. Good. Yeah, he was feeling the urge. "Don't go too far," he cautioned. "We're city folks, remember." He grinned at her.

Her stomach turned over. Jeez, Natalie, what's your problem? Every time a guy grins at you, you melt down! "Yes," she said, smiling back at him. "The local populace thinks we're weird enough. Can you just imagine if one of us got lost 'on a walk'?"

She went out the door and Howie opened his guitar case. He ran his fingers down the strings and then looked thoughtfully at the door. He'd never actually met anyone who'd said the word 'populace'. It was a good thing they were getting along at last, he thought. There was no way he was going to win a war of words with her.

Natalie sat on the porch with her legs drawn up. Peace and quiet. She had found some. Well, peace anyway. There was the occasional guitar music to interrupt the quiet, but it wasn't strident rather soothing, in fact.

She had gone for a long walk, circling the cabin, but never letting it get too far out of her sight. She knew that she was a city slicker, far more comfortable on the paved streets of Manhattan than here in Big Sky Country. But she had known she had to get away and this was as far away as she had been able to manage...in both distance and mindset.

When she returned to the cabin, she could hear the guitar. Howie was still working. She sat down in one of the wicker chairs. She didn't want to disturb him. It was his turn, after all, and she knew that she was done writing for the day anyway. She would have liked to go over her printed pages, but she figured she could do that later. There was nothing to do here in the evenings.

When she heard a chair scrape back, Natalie went into the cabin. Maybe he was taking a break. Sure enough, he was standing at the fridge.

"Would you like some lemonade?" he asked, holding up a pitcher. "I made some while you were out."

"That would be great," she answered. "How's the song coming?" The sofa and the floor around it were covered in papers, some with musical staffs and some just plain. The chair she sat on to type was in the middle of the floor facing the coffee table. His guitar was resting up against it.

"It's coming," he answered. "I'm going to take a break now, if there's anything you'd like to do."

"Maybe I'll put up my story board then, if you're sure it won't bother you." We are being way too polite to each other, she thought.

"Story board? What's that?" Howie gathered all his papers into a neat pile.

"Well, when I 'contrive' my mysteries, I have to make sure that all the clues fit together, and that they are, in fact, in there. You know, so that the reader has a chance to figure it out, but that it's not too obvious. There's nothing worse than getting to the end of a mystery story and finding out that the killer's motive has never been mentioned or even alluded to."

Howie nodded. He wondered why she had put mental quotation marks around the word 'contrive'. "So the story board keeps that straight?"

"Yes, I put all the clues on post-it notes and then I...well, here, it's probably easier if I just show you." She disappeared into the bedroom and came back out carrying a folded-up white, plastic sheet. She looked around and then pointed at a spot on the wall by the table. "Is it okay if I hang it there? Will it bother you?"

Howie wondered how he was supposed to know the answer to that until he had actually seen the thing, but he shook his head. No, that would be okay.

"The one at home is an actual board that sits on an easel by my computer. But this is the best I could do for traveling." She unfolded the plastic sheet and tacked it to the wall. It was covered in black marker.

Howie stepped up closer and peered at it. It was laid out in a grid...each chapter had a line. At the bottom was a group of post-it notes with words written on them...names of characters and other things that didn't mean anything to him.

"I kind of write the story backwards," she explained. The first thing I do is the crime. I put all the details down about that. And then when I write the story, I put the details and clues in. I don't just sit down and start writing at chapter one."

"Kind of like a song," he said to himself, pursing his lips.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, sometimes the melody comes first...it dances around in your head a bit...never the whole thing...just a few notes...and then you expand on it Or sometimes it's the words...you get a bit of a lyric and then you play with it and go from there. You kind of build them together into a song."

They smiled at each other. Common ground had been reached. They could do this.

And they did.

That evening, they made dinner together and then tidied up. Natalie washed and Howie dried. While she was wiping down the counters, he made them some tea and they settled in the living room. Natalie sat sideways in the armchair with her printed pages and went over them with a yellow highlighter while Howie sat on the couch and read. He had found a book on the local area on the bookshelf and occasionally, he quoted facts to her.

They were in Sweet Grass County, Montana. They agreed that there was some poetic blood flowing through the veins of whoever had come up with that name. The County has mountains on three sides and the prairie to the east, Howie informed her, and Big Timber is the County Seat. "It sits in the valley formed by the con...con...confluence?..." he looked up at her. She nodded and he continued, "...of the Boulder River and the Yellowstone River."

"It's pretty country," Natalie said, getting up and moving a post-it note from the bottom of the storyboard to one of the chapter lines.

"Yeah, they've made a couple of movies here." Howie turned back a page. "Um...A River Runs Through It and The Horse Whisperer."

Natalie sat back down and went back to her pages. Occasionally, she heard a murmur from him, as he spoke some of the words out loud. "...hiking trails...ghost towns...Indian Caves...fishing..."

"Do you like to fish?" he asked.

"I can't say that I do," answered Natalie. "I only did it once, when I was a little girl. The whole thing unnerved me, starting with the bait and ending with the catch, flopping around in the boat with the hook in its mouth, and that eye staring at me, asking me what I had done that for."

"I bet you write good stories," said Howie. In just a few words, she had painted a vivid picture of the experience for him.

She smiled her appreciation at the compliment. "What about you?" she asked. "Do you like fishing?"

Howie wrinkled his nose. "Nah, I'm not into that. I'm a City Boy at heart." He tapped the book. "It says there's great fishing around here, though. Trout."

He went back to the book, and Natalie bent her head over her pages again. A couple of minutes later, he laughed. "Guess what?"

"What?" she said with a smile. His laughter was infectious.

He read from the book. "'North of Big Timber are the distinctive Crazy Mountains. There are several legends as to how they got their name'... Then it gives the legends," said Howie, "and then...'the rivers surrounding the town offer some of the best blue-ribbon trout fishing in the country. Go north of town and then take..." He paused. His eyes were twinkling. "...then take the Howie Road"

"It doesn't say that," said Natalie, laughing.

"Yes, it does," insisted Howie, "right here!" He moved over to her and showed her the page from the book. "Take the Howie Road..."

They laughed together. A line of music ran through Natalie's head. Take the long way home... She couldn't remember who sang it. "Take the Howie Road," she sang out.

Howie looked startled and then he sang it. "Take the Howie Road..." She joined in and they sang it together. "Take the Howie Road..."

"Supertramp," he said, and it clicked into place for her.

"Breakfast in America." She named the album.

"Great album," he said. She nodded her agreement.

She went back to her pages and he went back to the book. Every so often, one of them would hum the line under their breath.

A few minutes later, he chuckled. Natalie looked up. "If you tell me there's a Backstreet Blvd., I'm going to...well, I don't know what, but it won't be pretty" She shook her finger at him, but she was smiling.

"No, check this out. In this county...um...population3600...there are nearly 1000 more females than there are males."

She mulled over the numbers. "Wow! That's a lot! That means..."

Howie did the math. "Yeah, two to one. Two women for every man."

"Well, if you think you're moving another one in here just to bring this household up to county standards, you can just think again!" Natalie said with mock ferocity.

Howie thought that maybe the one he had in the household already would do just fine. Suddenly, he yawned. "Oh!" he seemed surprised that he had done that. He looked at his watch. "I guess it must be the clean, country air," he said, "but I'm getting sleepy."

"Me too," said Natalie, standing up from the chair and stretching her arms up over her head. "I think I'll turn in. Goodnight, Howie."

"Goodnight, Natalie. I'll see you in the morning." Howie closed the book and set it on the table next to the sofa. He picked up their mugs and carried them to the sink.

Natalie washed her face and brushed her teeth. She looked at herself in the mirror. Well, she thought, I'm in a much better frame of mind tonight than I was last night. It's amazing what a difference 24 hours can make. She thought they were making the best of an awkward situation. She nodded at herself. Yes, I can do this. We can do this.

And it might be a good thing, she thought. It might get her out of that man-hating frame of mind that Brent had thrown her into. Ty had taken her the first step down that road by being kind and so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. And Howie seemed nice enough, now that he wasn't trying to ruin her life. She wasn't interested in any kind of relationship with either of them. She was a long way from doing that again. But she could always appreciate a man's looks and pleasant conversation.

She thought about the schedule they had set up. It seemed workable. And she got the first part, she thought, so she'd better get to sleep so she could take advantage of it. Who knew how long he would sleep in, especially if he went to bed this early? She snuggled down into the blankets and drifted away.

Howie sat in the living room for a few more minutes. Take the Howie Road... The line of music skated through his brain. He smiled. That was funny. He looked over to the armchair where Natalie had sat. This was working out better than he had ever imagined it would. The evening had been very pleasant. If they could give each other enough space to work, they'd be fine, he thought. And why wouldn't we be able to do that? he asked himself. We're in Big Sky Country. Lots of room.

And there probably would have been if it hadn't started to rain.

It started as fog.

Natalie woke up and threw open her curtains to greet the day. She took a step back from the window. She was looking at a blank screen. The world had disappeared. She made her way cautiously to the living room and opened the front door. The fog was dense and cold. She stepped quickly back inside and went to put on the kettle. Weird, she thought, and so different from yesterday.

She made tea and thought about a shower. She wondered when would be the best time. She didn't want to give up precious writing time to do it, and she didn't want to wake Howie, both because she didn't want to disturb him and also because the longer he stayed in bed, the longer she could write. But on the other hand, she thought she would feel weird taking a shower with him sitting in the living room. And it might disturb his peace and quiet for working. Oh, for God's sakes, Nat, get in the damn shower. The day will have disappeared by the time you make up your mind! She looked at the windows again. The day might as well disappear, she thought, the world had.

She had a shower and got more tea. She settled herself at the computer and typed away, stopping occasionally to move a post-it note on the plastic storyboard. She was so into it that she didn't even hear Howie get up.

Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa... Howie opened his eyes and looked at his watch. Nine o'clock. He wondered how long Natalie had been up. Man, could she ever type fast! Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa... He stretched the sleep out of his body and got up. He figured he'd go work out on the porch. There was plenty of room and he could use the cushions from the wicker settee as a mat.

"Oh, my!" Howie stepped into the living room and saw the fog outside the windows.

Natalie looked up from her computer. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts and his hair was tousled. "Good morning," she said, with a smile. "Yes, the world seems to have gone away."

Howie opened the front door just as she had. "It's cold," he said, wafting his hand through it. He closed the door. He looked around the room. "Hmm..."

"What?" asked Natalie, making a quick note on a piece of paper. She had a thought and didn't want to lose it.

"I was going to work out on the porch, but..." He looked back at his bedroom door. There was no way there was room enough in there to do it.

"You can do it right there, if you want," said Natalie, still in the generous frame of mind of the night before. "It won't bother me."

Howie thought it might bother him to do it in front of her. It was just going to be sit-ups and stretches. He didn't have his weights with him or anything. But he liked to do it every day. "Okay," he said, "if you're sure you don't mind." He went into the bedroom and came back with a blanket. He folded it in half and laid it on the floor behind the couch. There! Now she didn't have to see him and he didn't have to see her. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and got down on the floor to start his set.

She couldn't see him but she could hear him. He didn't make a lot of noise, but the occasional grunt wafted up over the sofa and came to rest next to her computer. The odd image of him without his shirt wandered over to join them. It was when Natalie typed the word 'sweat' instead of 'swear' that she knew she was done for the moment. She stood up and went to the kitchen.

"Tea?" she asked.

"That's be great," said Howie, between sit-ups. He flipped over on his stomach and did some pushups. Natalie bit her lip and turned away for the kettle. Omilord, that was a fine piece of real estate. There was that song again, she thought. What was it? You're a fine piece of real estate and I'm going to get me some land. It was a woman, she knew that, but she couldn't grasp it.

She made tea and warmed up the cinnamon buns in the microwave. She added some fruit and set it all on the counter. Breakfast could be done standing up, she thought. She didn't want to have to pack her computer away just yet.

She looked at her watch. And it was only 9:30. If he was going to get up this early all the time, it would really cut down on her private working time. She wondered if there was a way to tire him out and make him sleep longer. A thought whisked through her mind. She turned and looked out the back window as she felt the blush creeping up her neck.

Howie didn't even notice. He finished his workout and picked up his tea. "Mmm, these are good," he said around a mouthful of cinnamon bun. "Even the next day..."

"Yes," said Natalie. "And it makes the house smell nice."

There was nothing more to be said then, so they just sipped their tea and munched on the fruit.

"Well," said Howie, looking around. "I'll let you get back to work. I'll just jump in the shower and then I'll..."

Yes, thought Natalie. Please finish that sentence. And then you'll...?

But he didn't finish it. He just moved his cup over to the sink and headed for the bathroom.

Natalie went back to her computer. Better make the most of it, she figured.

Howie stood under the shower and wondered how the hell he was going to fill up the next couple of hours. He had planned on going for a walk and then going over his work from yesterday on the porch. Maybe the fog would lift, but he doubted it. It seemed pretty thick. What caused that, he wondered? Cold front moving in and mixing with warm air from yesterday? That sounded right, but he didn't know.

He got out of the shower and dried himself off. Natalie had put two large bath towels in the room of different colors. He smiled. Burgundy and navy. At least it's not pink and blue. The burgundy one was hanging crookedly, as if she had just shoved it over the towel bar with one hand. Howie hung his carefully over the shower rod to dry, and then after a pause, he did the same with hers.

He slipped quietly through the living room and back into his bedroom. He put his clothes from the previous day into his laundry bag which he hung from one of the hooks on the back of the door. He chose his clothes for the day and slipped them on. He made the bed, smoothing the bedspread flat. Then he picked out some shirts and things that he wanted to hang up.

"Okay if I hang these in the closet?" he asked.

Damn! Natalie had been following a plot thread and it evaporated at the sound of his voice. Poof! Gone! Howie could tell by the stiffening of her shoulders that he had disturbed something, but he was determined not to apologize. He might spend the whole day doing that. It wasn't his fault it was foggy.

"Sure," said Natalie, waving her hand, not turning to look at him. She pawed among the papers around the computer and then looked up at the story board, trying to bring the thought back.

Howie went into her bedroom. Wow! She sure had picked the good one. There were twice as many windows as in his. He grimaced. Yeah, so she can see twice as much fog! He found the closet and opened it. He hung his clothes up carefully and then looked around the room. Natalie had dropped her clothes on the armchair the night before and they were still there. A t-shirt and some loose-fitting drawstring pants lay in the middle of the unmade bed. Her pyjamas? Howie guessed she had been eager to get to work and so saved these chores for later.

What do I do now? he asked himself. Well, lingering in her bedroom is not it! he answered. God knows what she'll think. He stepped back into the living room and stood there looking around. He looked at his watch. Not even ten o'clock. Damn! He went over to the sofa. He had tidied up all his papers the night before and put them in his briefcase. He set the briefcase on the coffee table and snapped it open. It sounded like a gunshot. Natalie jumped.

"Sorry," said Howie, involuntarily.

"'S okay," muttered Natalie. She hunched closer over the keyboard, trying to isolate herself from him and the outside world, trying to get into her story and stay there. She managed to do it for a couple of minutes, but then he started to hum.

It wasn't loud, but it was distracting. She wasn't even sure he was aware he was doing it. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at the music. He would hum a couple of bars as he read it. Then he would close his eyes and put his head back. Who knew what he was imagining? Then he'd open them again and start humming.

She wasn't sure if she should ask him to stop. It really wasn't very loud and she didn't want to seem petty. So she said nothing, but the humming grew louder and more irritating in her mind each time he did it.

Howie tried to keep the music in his head, but he couldn't. Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa... The rhythm of her typing interfered with the tempo of the music. He knew that it was her turn to work, but he would be grateful when she stopped. He needed to concentrate on this part of the song. It was a weak spot and he couldn't figure out why. He loved the rest of the song.

"Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa..." He didn't mean to say it out loud.

Natalie stopped typing and looked over at him. "Did you say something?"

Howie blushed. "Sorry." Then, "Ticketa, ticketa..." he repeated. "That's what your typing sounds like to me."

Natalie removed her hands from the keyboard and put them in her lap. Was he criticizing her? Was he complaining?

"Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa, tok, tok, tok..." he said and he smiled.

Huh? She asked the question with her eyebrows.

"You type really fast," he said, "and then you stop to think and then you backspace out the bit you don't want and then you start again. Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa..." He used both hands to make typing motions in front of him. Then he used just his index finger. "Tok, tok, tok. It's kind of musical."

Natalie thought about that. He was right. "You must write good songs," she said, "if everything you hear sounds like music."

He blushed and shrugged.

"Sing one for me," she said, turning away from her work.

He looked embarrassed.

"Sing the one you mentioned before, the one about being different."

He picked up the guitar and strummed it. Then he tuned a string and then another. Natalie was beginning to regret having asked him. Was he going to take all day?

"You don't run with the crowd, you go your own way..."

Natalie was transfixed. The song was beautiful. The melody and the lyrics...the song went straight to her soul.

"...you're beautiful to me." He finished the song and set down the guitar. He hadn't really wanted to sing it. He still didn't know how to take her and was afraid she might think he was showing off. But she had asked...and he didn't see how he could refuse. Once he started singing, he got into it and forgot she was even there.

He looked over at her and shrugged. She hadn't moved. "Of course, it's different when we all do it...you know, the harmony and all that," he said.

"Wow!" She didn't even say it out loud, just mouthed it. Then she found her voice. "That was beautiful. You're very talented."

"Thank you," he whispered, and then silence descended.

Natalie turned back to her work but was just too aware of his presence to get into the story. Howie sat on the sofa and tried to keep still. He picked up the book from the night before, but there was a limit to how much local information he wanted. He thought about going for a drive, but was afraid he'd never find his way back. He couldn't find the damn driveway in the light of day; he'd never find it in this white cloud.

Finally, he gathered up his papers and retreated to his bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the music. It wasn't comfortable, so he lay down on the bed. He wished he had room for an armchair like Natalie did in her room. That would be perfect. He could hardly ask if he could go to her room, though, now could he? Finally, he gave up on the papers and lay with his eyes closed, composing in his head, hoping that he could remember later what he thought up. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

Natalie heard him go. Thank goodness! she thought. Boy, this was going to be harder than she thought! The cabin really wasn't big enough for both of them, it seemed. And shortly, it was going to be her turn to be the intruder. I'll have a nap, she thought. I'll work here until he comes back out and then I'll turn it over to him. I'll go have a nap and then well, she'd just have to wait and see what happened then. She turned back to her keyboard. Ticketa, ticketa, ticketa...

"Why are you so far behind?" Howie asked.

Natalie looked at him. What now? This whole experience was turning into a nightmare. A wet, drizzly nightmare. The fog had turned into a misty drizzle around noon of the previous day. And by nightfall, it was actual rain, beating down on the cabin roof, making the space seem smaller and smaller, scraping the protective coating off their nerves until they were raw.

They had both tried hard. But the little irritations were building into big ones. Howie had fallen asleep the day before and hadn't wakened until after one o'clock. Natalie had worked hard, taking advantage of the time. When he woke up, he was pissed. He was supposed to get the afternoons. And by the time he'd made lunch and eaten it, it was almost two o'clock. He knew it was ridiculous to think that she should have wakened him, but he still felt cheated. This put him in a bad frame of mind and the work didn't go well for him that afternoon.

Natalie had laid in her bed and tried to nap. But it was difficult. If he had been playing songs on the guitar, it wouldn't have bothered her. But the same damn line over and over again...it was like fingernails on the blackboard to her and she had trouble falling asleep. Just before she drifted off, she had a vision of where she could place a particular clue in her story and when she woke up, she really wanted to get back to her computer. But she knew she couldn't. And she resented it.

They had made dinner together again but conversation was desultory. By tacit agreement, they had said goodnight and gone to bed early to read. The next day would be better. The rain would stop.

But it didn't. It got worse. Neither of them slept well and they were both cranky when they got up. The outside world was a curtain of rain. They tried to accommodate each other's presence but it wasn't easy.

Natalie was a slob, thought Howie. She never hung the towel up in the bathroom. She left her tea mug on the table even when she was finished work. She never took it back to the kitchen. And the damn printer box was still sitting by the front door where she had dropped it two days ago! The styrofoam packing sat lopsided in the box and the instructions were on the floor beside it. Was the thing going to sit there for the whole month?! And why in all of this did he find himself constantly apologizing to her? His initial determination had evaporated in a haze of nerve-wracking little incidents. He found himself saying 'sorry' a lot. He thought it was better than saying what he really felt.

Natalie wished Howie weren't so damned nice about everything. She had a real hate building for the whole situation and it infuriated her that he was so polite. He wouldn't make a decision about anything - what they would eat or when. He always said, "whatever you like." He apologized for everything. He must have said 'sorry' fifty times. He was so neat he made her want to scream. Whenever he took a break, he straightened all his papers into a pile, even if he was just going to the bathroom. And he tidied up after her too, but not without a little martyr sigh that she wasn't doing it herself. And he hummed. He hummed all the time. She wanted to staple his lips together.

It was five o'clock on Thursday. They were preparing dinner. It was getting earlier every day, Natalie thought. If the rain keeps up, we'll eat three meals a day before noon and retire to separate bedrooms by one o'clock. And the kitchen had gone from cozy to claustrophobic. Each of them would have cheerfully made dinner alone if only the other would get the hell out of the way. But neither of them would suggest it.

"What do you mean 'so far behind'?" she asked. She looked up from the fridge. She held up potatoes and carrots.

He nodded at her choice of vegetables and reached into the cupboard for oil and vinegar. He was making the marinade for the chicken. "Well, you type like the wind, and you seem to know exactly what you want to write...so I'm just curious as to why you're so close to a deadline. It seems like you wouldn't have any trouble with things like that."

She made a face. "I had to take some time out of my work so my life could fall apart."

"Oh," he said. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." He carefully added spices to the marinade.

"No, it's okay," she said, thinking that he had one, maybe two more 'sorry's to go before she killed him. "I'm getting over it. Affairs of the heart and all that."

"He broke up with you?" he said, nodding sagely. He brushed the marinade over the chicken breasts.

"No, actually, I broke up with him. I objected to his wife." Natalie did not want to be painted as the poor, little dumpee. She began peeling the vegetables and dropping them into a pot of water.

The disapproval that radiated from him was palpable. "You went out with a married man?"

"Well, I didn't know he was married at the time," she said bitterly. "It didn't come up in our conversations."

"How did you find out?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't bite his head off. But it was the first time all day they'd managed to have a conversation longer than one sentence each and he wanted to keep it going.

"The usual. A friend wised me up." She rinsed the vegetables and drained them. She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then continued, "I should have known. All the talk about how hard he worked weekends, evenings...even Thanksgiving. How stupid could I be to think that a banker would have to work Thanksgiving!?"

Pretty stupid, thought Howie, and then wondered if he'd said that out loud. If he had, he was a dead man, he knew that.

Natalie seemed to be talking to herself. "That's love for you. It makes you willing to overlook stuff. It makes you blind."

"I guess it hurt when he went back to his wife," said Howie softly. He reached around her and picked up the pot of vegetables. He began placing them carefully around the chicken pieces and basting them with marinade.

"No," said Natalie. "He wanted to leave her and marry me. I said no, but he left her anyway."

"Why didn't you marry him if he was willing to do that?"

"Because a man who cheats on his wife will cheat on his wife," she said.

He thought about that for a moment. He nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Good for you."

Don't patronize me, thought Natalie and then wondered if she'd said that out loud. She hoped not; he was getting testier by the second.

"How...um...did it...um...disrupt you...stop you from working? I mean, if you were the one that ended it?" Howie opened the oven door and put the dinner in.

"Just because I ended it didn't mean that it didn't hurt. And that I didn't feel betrayed and used and..." She paused. It would be better not to start down that road, she thought, not in the frame of mind they were in at the moment. "I had to do the whole recovery thing anyway," she said airily, and then answered his questioning look with, "You know...spend some days in my robe and slippers, living on Haagen-Dazs." She pulled plates out of the cupboard.

He nodded. "Cookies and Cream or Rocky Road?"

"Chocolate Raspberry Torte," she replied, moving over to the table with napkins and cutlery. "It will be quite awhile before I'll be able to face another bowl of that."

They made it through dinner without offending each other, but it was a brief lull in a difficult day. They did the dishes, both hoping the other would turn in early. Howie disappeared into the bathroom and came back to find the printer chugging away.

"I'm just printing my pages from earlier," said Natalie.

Howie thought the noise would never stop. And each printed page made him more resentful because it was output that she had managed to accomplish that he had not. Because he hadn't done squat in the last couple of days except make himself crazy that he couldn't get anything done. And whenever he thought he was close, something happened to break his concentration. He picked up his guitar and played with a song. It was a different one from the one that had been torturing him all day. Torturing them both. Natalie thought that his choice of a different song had just saved his life.

The printer finally wheezed to a halt. Natalie gathered up the pages and started reversing the order.

"You know you can get the printer to print them that way...last page first," said Howie, not looking up from his music. Why the hell couldn't she figure that out?

It was a good thing he didn't look up. The look she bestowed on him would have frightened him. "It's a little ritual I have," she answered tartly. "I count the pages as I reverse them." It centred her mind for the next phase of her work.

"I thought that's why you numbered them," said Howie.

"I told you it was a ritual. Kind of like...um..." She paused. "Kind of like straightening every damn piece of paper fifteen times before you start working on them."

This time Howie did look up. They glared at each other for a few seconds. He broke first and went back to strumming the guitar.and humming. Natalie sat in the chair and draped her legs over the end. She picked up her highlighter and began editing her work. Howie set down the guitar and picked up a pencil. He started furiously making notations on a piece of sheet music. Finally, some inspiration had struck. He closed his eyes and hummed the song, visualizing it. Then he opened his eyes and wrote down the notes. He moved the pencil through the air like a baton solidifying the music in his mind.

Scree, scree, scree...the highlighter squeaked down the page. Howie tried desperately to ignore it. He scribbled down notes on the staff and hummed the tune.

Scree...

"Stop that for a minute," he said brusquely, holding up a hand. She did and they sat there, frozen in a tableau, her highlighter poised over her words, his pencil racing to nail down the music before it disappeared.

"Why don't you use a tape recorder?" she asked, snapping the gossamer strand of music.

"Why don't you get a new highlighter?" he snapped. He realized he was being nasty. "Sorry."

"You are the sorriest man I've ever met," she said. And then they were into it.

"Well, excuse me for being polite."

"Polite?! You're so far beyond polite...you're into sycophantic...you're obsequious..."

"Oooh, big words. I'm so impressed. Too bad you don't know any short ones...like 'neat' or 'tidy'. How long is that friggin' box going to sit there? Why can't you put it in the closet or something?"

"It's just a box, for God's sake," she said, raising her voice defensively. It angered her that he had a point. "It's not like it has any annoying habits...like humming all the time or..."

He could play this game too. "...or tapping your precious highlighter on your teeth when you're thinking..."

Natalie wanted to step back from the edge, but she couldn't. All the frustration, all the unspoken hurt from Brent welled up and she threw it all over the only available person.

"God, you're such a...a...such a man!" It was the most insulting thing that she could think of.

"A man? Why, yes I am. Is that your problem? That you need a man...one without a wife this time perhaps." He laughed. And the whole situation went nuclear. He hadn't been volunteering himself. He had actually been thinking of Ty Harper, but he didn't get to suggest it.

Natalie leapt to her feet. She threw her pages down on the chair. The highlighter bounced off and rolled across the floor. "You are insufferable. You pompous prig. You...you...I wouldn't go near you if you were the last man on Earth!"

She went into her bedroom and slammed the door.

The clap of thunder woke her up. It was loud and it shook the cabin. A sheet of lightning lit up the sky. Natalie got up and went cautiously to the window. She had left the curtains open when she went to bed. The rain had stopped, but the sky was an odd color. It had a yellowish tinge to it. That was weird for the middle of the night. She looked at the clock. 2:10.

It had taken her a long time to fall asleep. She had tossed and turned, her stomach churning and her emotions threatening to get the better of her. She tried to be angry with Howie, but it kept coming back to Brent...and herself. She was sorry for the things she had said and knew an apology was due. She would take care of that in the morning, first thing.

Another crack of thunder ripped through the night, followed by a sheet of lightning. Natalie backed away from the window. She huddled in the middle of the bed with her knees drawn up and watched the forces of nature. The thunder rolled and cracked, sounding like ripping canvas; the lightning flashed. It was like the universe was tearing open. It was powerful and awesome. And it was scary.

She watched and listened for what seemed like forever and then suddenly, it stopped. An eerie silence replaced the percussion of the thunder. The sky became black. Natalie waited for the rain to begin again, but it didn't. She pulled the covers up over her and tried to go back to sleep. The inky silence was almost as scary as the storm, but eventually she fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was streaming through the window when she woke up. She looked at the clock. 8:45. My God! She hadn't slept this late in years. She sat up in bed, blinking. She felt groggy. She stretched and got out of bed. She stood and looked out the window for a long moment, enjoying the view, thankful that there wasn't a raindrop in sight. She could get outside...get some space...

Howie. Last night came back to her. She had been so rude. She was ashamed of herself. She wondered how the pioneers had made it through long winters of being cabin-bound. She and Howie hadn't managed to make it through two days without sniping at each other. It was a good thing there were no weapons in the cabin. They had done enough damage to each other with a highlighter and a guitar.

Well, girl, you've got apologizing to do. You'd better get out there. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. She bypassed the jeans and t-shirts she'd been wearing the past couple of days and selected a cotton skirt in a madras pattern. A plain green t-shirt finished the ensemble, picking up one of the colors in the skirt pattern. She slipped on a pair of canvas espadrilles.

She opened the bedroom door cautiously. Howie was standing at the kitchen counter, a mug of tea in his hand. He looked over at her, but he didn't say a word. She couldn't read his expression.

"Howie, I'm sorr..." she began. He shook his head slowly.

"No more sorry's," he said.

"Well, you used up your quota, but I still have a few to say," she tried again.

"Come here," he said, setting down his mug and heading for the front door. She followed him out onto the porch. The air was warm and the sun was shining. She could hear birds singing.

"Wonderful," she said. She stepped down off the porch onto the dirt roadway. She twirled around, her arms outstretched, little eddies of dust whirling up from her dancing feet. "Wonderful," she shouted. She stopped spinning and looked at Howie, who was grinning at her from the porch.

"Do you want to get to work now?" he asked.

"No, I want to get the hell away from this cabin for awhile. Let's go to town!" She paused. "Or maybe you'd rather that I just went to town and gave you some peace and quiet for awhile."

"No," he said, "I've had enough of this cabin for a bit. And we're out of cinnamon buns."

"I'll get my purse," said Natalie. She brushed the dust off her shoes and went back into the cabin. She looked around. Howie was right. She was a slob. She picked up the printer box and took it into her bedroom. She'd put it in the closet later. She grabbed her purse and went back outside. Howie was already in the car.

They drove down the hill to the paved road. As they were turning out, Natalie looked back over her shoulder, a quizzical expression on her face. Dust. Why was there dust? It had just rained for two days. Why wasn't there mud? Surely, it couldn't have dried that fast. Oh well, she was not about to quibble with good weather, that was for damned sure!

Howie was very quiet on the drive into town. Natalie wasn't sure what to do. Was he still angry with her? He had a right to be. Should she try to apologize again? She opened her mouth to take back her angry words of the night before, but before she could, he reached out and turned on the radio. "...real estate and I'm gonna get me some land..."

"That's her. That's the song. Who is that?" she asked.

Howie looked at her. "Shania Twain," he said.

"I've had that line running through my head for a couple of days and I couldn't get the rest of it." Natalie sang along with the song. "So, don't try to run - honey, love can be fun...There's no need to be alone - when you find that someone..."

Howie joined in with the chorus. "I'm gonna getcha while I gotcha in sight. I'm gonna getcha if it takes all night." Natalie added some hand choreography and they finished the song in laughter.

"Good song," said Howie. "I like her stuff."

They drove the last few miles in silence, listening to the radio. "It must be Woman's Day or something," said Howie finally. "That's all they've played...female singers."

"Maybe it's some kind of theme show," said Natalie. "The DJ is a woman too."

Howie pulled the car into the space in front of the Big Tiga. "Here we are!"

They got out of the car. Natalie looked around. Something hovered at the edge of her consciousness. Something was different. She couldn't figure out what it was, though. She gave a mental shrug and followed Howie into the grocery store. They were the only customers again. They picked up a few items and put them in the cart. They were giddy with the freedom of being out of the cabin. They laughed and joked. Howie turned the corner sharply with the cart and almost ran down someone crouched in an aisle restocking shelves. "Excuse me," he said.

"It's okay," said a girl in a green apron. She gave them a strange look. She stood up and followed them up the aisle.

"Okay," said Natalie. "That's everything. This time I pay."

At the checkout, Jackie just stood and stared. First at Howie, then at Natalie, then back at Howie.

"Um" began Natalie. "Could I pay for these groceries, please?"

"Where'd you get him?" asked Jackie.

Natalie didn't have a clue how to answer this question. "He came with the cabin," was her feeble response. She looked at Howie but he didn't seem to notice anything wrong. Over her shoulder, Natalie caught a glimpse of the stock girl. She was standing at the end of an aisle, staring at them, open-mouthed.

Jackie ran the groceries through and Natalie paid for them. Howie picked up the bags and they walked out together. "Now for the cinnamon buns," he said. They put the groceries in the car and headed into Crazy Jane's. There was no one in the place. The smell of cinnamon was powerful and inviting, however. Howie stepped up to the counter and rang the small bell that was sitting there.

"Hold your horses, I'll be right th..." A woman in a white shirt and pants came through the swinging doors from the kitchen. She froze in the act of wiping her hands on her apron.

"Do you have any cinnamon buns?" asked Natalie. The woman disappeared through the swinging doors. She returned with a tray of warm buns. The smell was intoxicating.

The woman held the tray out to Howie. "Try one," she said.

"I've had them before. They're wonderful," said Howie. But she pushed the tray at him until he picked one up and bit into it. She watched his response carefully.

"Mmmm...it's good," he answered. "Could we buy some?"

"Take as many as you like," she said.

"We'll take six," said Howie, pulling out his wallet.

The woman seemed reluctant to take his money, but he insisted. Natalie looked around. "Where are the men?" she asked.

"Gone," said the woman. Natalie looked at her watch. She guessed that made sense. They would have done their early chores, come into town for coffee and headed back to their farms. They left the café and put the box of buns in the car. Natalie noticed that Jackie and the girl in the green apron were standing in the doorway of the grocery watching them. Natalie felt like she had a piece of spinach in her teeth...or maybe her skirt was rucked up in the back and her underwear was showing. She smoothed the skirt down with her hands and ran her tongue over her teeth.

She looked over at the park. No one was playing checkers today. Natalie found that strange. After all the rain in the past two days, you would think people would want to get out...maybe do some chores. Some of these places were starting to look a little shabby.

"Natalie?" Howie was staring at her. She hadn't moved in several seconds.

Slowly, she looked around. "The hardware store," she said, suddenly. "I have to go to the hardware store."

"What for?" asked Howie.

She paused. "Hardware," she said finally. She noticed that the woman, presumably Jane, had come out of the café and had joined Jackie in the doorway of the grocery. "Come on," she said to Howie.

They walked over to McLeod Street. There were very few people on the street, Natalie noticed and no men. She started to shiver.

"Are you cold?" asked Howie.

"No, no, I'm good," she answered, hugging her arms around herself. She stepped into the hardware store and looked around. If there were any men around anywhere, they would be in the hardware store. But she didn't see one.

"Can I help you?" A woman appeared through a door in the back. She looked at Natalie and then past her. She gasped and put a hand over her mouth. Natalie looked at Howie but he was checking out a display of caulking guns and didn't seem to have noticed the woman's reaction.

"I'm looking for...for..." Natalie glanced around desperately. "gardening gloves!" She spied a rack of them.

"Well, now, we have these different brands. This here set has a soft lining, very comfortable." The woman began to extol the virtues of the gloves to Natalie, but she never took her eyes off Howie.

"Great! I'll take those," said Natalie.

"Well, these others here now, they have a suede palm...non-slip...that's a good feature."

"Okay, I'll take those instead," said Natalie. She just wanted to get out of the store. The woman seemed reluctant to let them go. She held up the third set. Natalie grabbed the ones with the suede palms. "I'll take these." She looked around for Howie. He was over in the tool section, hefting the hammers. And through the window, she could see three women watching him.

She took her change from the woman. "Where are the men?" she asked softly.

"Gone," said the woman. There was sadness in her voice. "All gone." Then she looked over at Howie. "'Cept him."

"Let's go, Howie," said Natalie, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him out of the store. She tried not to break into a run. There were women standing in the doorway of every store. "Come on," she said, pulling on his hand. "Hurry!"

"What's the rush?" asked Howie, smiling and nodding at the women as he went past them.

"Just get in the car and drive," said Natalie, firmly.

As they drove out of town, Natalie tried to push down the panic that threatened to swamp her. Be logical, she told herself. Think rationally. It's not possible. She turned on the radio, flipping from station to station. Every DJ was a woman. Every song was by a female. Where were the men?

Ty! She would phone Ty! He was real. She knew him. Okay, that would work. She leaned forward in her seat, willing Howie to drive faster. He had barely stopped the car before she leapt out and ran to the house. She fumbled with the key, cursing her fingers that were shaking so much, she couldn't open the door. Finally, the lock turned over. She raced to the fridge to get Ty's number.

"Noooooooooo," she wailed. The Montana magnet was on the fridge, but there was no longer a paper under it. Where was it? She dropped to her knees and scrabbled her hands over the floor looking for it.

"What are you doing?" asked Howie.

"I'm looking for Ty's number," she said. And then her blood ran cold at his next words.

"Who's Ty?"

Natalie got slowly to her feet and looked at Howie. "Ty Harper," she said. Howie shrugged. Never heard of him. Natalie opened the drawer in the counter and pulled out the phone book. She flipped to the 'H' page and ran her finger down the list. No Harper, T. No Harper Farms.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. What had she done?

She heard the sound of a car. More than one. She walked slowly out onto the porch. Howie followed her and leaned against the door frame with his arms folded. Four cars pulled up in front of the cabin. The doors opened and out stepped women...angry looking women...women with clubs in their hands.

"What do you want?" Natalie asked Jackie, who was in the front, a baseball bat in her hands.

"Him," she replied, nodding in Howie's direction. Howie nodded back. "We want him."

"You can't have him," Natalie said, trying to keep her voice calm, but not succeeding.

"It's not fair," piped up Jane. "All our men are gone. Why should you get to have one?" She took a step toward the porch, slapping her rolling pin in her palm.

Natalie took a step back toward Howie. How could she protect him?

"She doesn't want me," said Howie matter-of-factly. He moved from his position in the doorway. He walked past Natalie and down the steps.

"Howie?" Natalie couldn't believe he was going to go with them. There were so many of them and only one of him.

He turned to look at her. "You said it yourself, Natalie. You said you wouldn't want me if I was the last man on Earth."

The women turned from him to her. Their eyes were cold. "You did this?" Jane demanded.

Natalie took a step backward. "I didn't mean it. It was just a saying. I didn't mean for anything to happen."

The women moved toward her. She looked at Howie, her eyes begging him for help. He just shrugged.

The first scream tore Howie from his bed. He was standing beside it before he was even awake. The second scream made him move. He ran through the living room and into Natalie's bedroom. It was dark. He flipped on the light and listened through the third scream while his eyes adjusted.

She was huddled at the top of the bed, her arms up over her head. Must be a nightmare from the storm, he thought. He approached the bed cautiously. "Natalie? Natalie?" He kept his voice soothing and calm. "Natalie? It's okay. It's okay."

He knelt on the bed and reached out a hand. He touched her arm. She flinched back from him.

"Natalie!" He said it louder, more firmly. "Stop screaming!" Amazingly, she did. She chose instead to wail. She flung her arms out to the side, hitting him in the chest. She started yelling, but he couldn't make out any of the words. It was gibberish.

He crawled up to her and put his arms around her. He held her tight, so that she couldn't flail with her arms. She began to kick instead. Howie flung one leg over hers and pressed down, holding her in place. He could see that she was completely out of it. He held her tight and murmured, "It's okay, it's okay..." over and over.

She stopped struggling, but he continued to hold her. Her body twitched for a long time. Her yelling turned to murmurs and then soft moans. Eventually, she was silent and still. He held her for a while longer and then he eased himself away from her. He covered her with the blankets. He stood in the doorway for awhile and watched her. He debated turning off the light but in the end decided to leave it on. It wasn't bothering her, and if she woke up again...

What do you mean, if she wakes up again, he asked himself turning away from her room. She wasn't awake. She might not even remember it. He looked at the clock on the microwave. 4:30. He headed back to bed and went to sleep. He didn't have any nightmares, but rather a pleasant dream about holding someone soft and sweet-smelling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was streaming through the window when she woke up. She looked at the clock. 8:45. My God! She hadn't slept this late in years. She sat up in bed, blinking. She felt groggy. She stretched and got out of bed. Why was the light on? She stood and looked out the window for a long moment, enjoying the view, thankful that there wasn't a raindrop in sight. She could get outside...get some space...

Howie. Last night came back to her. She had been so rude. She was ashamed of herself. Imagine saying that to someone...if you were the last man on Earth. Suddenly, the nightmare washed over her. She ran into her bathroom and threw up. She sat on the tile floor for a long time, afraid to move...afraid to open the bedroom door and see what was on the other side.

Finally, she forced herself up. She looked in the mirror. God, she looked awful! She washed her face and brushed her teeth. She went to the closet to get clothes. She reached for the madras skirt, but then pulled her hand back. No, she didn't want that. This...this would be better. She pulled a denim jumper off the hanger. The hanger fell to the floor. Natalie reached for a pink blouse, then stopped. She turned back and picked up the hanger, replacing it on the rod. She finished dressing and slipped on a pair of canvas espadrilles.

She opened the bedroom door cautiously. Howie was standing at the kitchen counter, a mug of tea in his hand. He looked over at her, but he didn't say a word. She couldn't read his expression.

"Howie, I'm sorr..." she began. He shook his head slowly.

"No more sorry's," he said.

Her stomach turned over. She looked around the room. The printer box was by the front door. "The box is still there. I didn't move it," she said. There was relief in her voice.

Howie wasn't sure where she was going with this. Was she trying to pick up the fight where they had left it? Had she expected him to move the damn box? He watched her cross the room. She picked up the box. "I'll just get this out of the way," she said with a big grin, disappearing into her bedroom. Okay, thought Howie, whatever. He picked up the teapot and poured her a mugful.

She came back a moment later and accepted the mug of tea from him with a smile. She reached to open the fridge for milk. A tiny whimper escaped her. Howie looked up. She was caressing a piece of paper under a magnet.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Ty's phone number," she said. "I thought I lost it." Her eyes went far away.

"Do you need to call him for something?" asked Howie. He didn't like the way that made him feel.

"You know who he is?" asked Natalie.

Howie stared at her. "I met him the other day, remember?"

"Yes, yes, I remember," she said triumphantly. Okay, thought Howie, this is pretty weird. But at least the sun is shining.

He set down his mug. "Come here," he said, heading for the front door. She followed him out onto the porch. The air was warm and the sun was shining. She could hear birds singing.

"Wonderful," she said. She stepped down off the porch onto the dirt roadway.

"Watch out for your shoes," he warned. "It's muddy."

"It's muddy," she said, and turned her face to the sky. "It's muddy," she whispered. She thought she might cry. "I have to go to town," she said suddenly.

"But it's your time to work," he replied.

"Would you like to work now?" she offered. "You can take my time if you want."

"I'd rather go to town," he said. He looked back at the cabin. "I've kind of had enough of the place for awhile. And besides, we're out of cinnamon buns."

Natalie turned pale and started to sway. Howie thought she might fall over. But she snapped herself out of it. "I'll get my purse," she said.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Natalie was afraid to turn on the radio. "Howie, about last night..."

At first, Howie thought she was referring to the nightmare. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Natalie felt awful. Here she had been so rude to him and he was asking if she was okay. "I didn't mean it...what I said..."

"Well, we both said some things, didn't we? I shouldn't have said you were a slob." Howie had not, in fact, called her a slob. But he had certainly thought it.

"I am a slob. I'll try to do better. It's just that when I get on a roll, I kind of close out the world. Of course, when I live by myself, I have that right, but not when I'm living with you."

...living with you... The words echoed around the car for a bit and then faded away.

Natalie got more and more nervous as they approached the town. She knew that everything would be alright. It was just a nightmare. It didn't really happen. There would be men.

Howie could feel her tensing up beside him. He didn't understand why, but wondered if she was still upset about the fight. He almost opened his mouth to apologize again, but turned on the radio instead.

"...gonna getcha if it takes all night..."

Natalie jumped and put her hands over her mouth. She thought she might scream. Howie was worried enough that he wondered if he should pull the car over to the side of the road.

"Shania Twain," Natalie managed to squeak out.

"Yes," said Howie. "We did a show with her once. She was very nice."

Natalie waited for the end of the song, holding her breath. Would the next one be by a woman? What about the DJ? Howie pulled into a parking space and turned off the car before she had a chance to find out. One man. That's all she needed to see or hear. Just one other man. Howie came around to her side of the car and opened the door. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She got out of the car. "I just need...I..." She looked up the street. Striding toward them was a pair of jeans and a blue denim shirt. "It's Ty," she said, and her body sagged against the car in relief.

Oh, thought Howie. So that's how it is.

"Natalie. Howie. How are you doing? Did you weather the storm okay?" asked Ty.

Natalie couldn't speak. Talk about lovestruck, thought Howie. He filled in the gap. "No leaks or damage or anything," he said. "We got a little sick of each other, though."

Ty nodded. Yep, he could understand that. He was an outdoor man himself, and he felt trapped when he couldn't go out. "Worst fog we've had in years. Thank goodness people had enough sense to stay off the roads."

"Ty!" A female voice came from behind them.

"'Lo, Mandy," muttered Ty, nodding over their shoulder.

Howie turned to see a young woman coming up to them. Wow! Was she built! She wasn't tall, but she was curvy. A red gingham blouse strained at the buttons and showed off her bust to perfection. A tiny waist led to a pair of tight blue jeans. She had long, blonde hair. It was curly, but Howie couldn't decide if it was natural or a product of a hair stylist.

The girl walked up to them. She patted Ty on the arm, possessively. "There you are. I've been looking for you. I called the ranch. Your mama said you were in town. We're supposed to be doing the decorations, remember?" She tucked her arm through his and pressed her ample bosom against his arm.

Ty looked embarrassed. Howie couldn't decide if this was because he had forgotten about the decorations, because he was overwhelmed by the soft body pressing up against his or because he really didn't want Mandy and Natalie breathing the same air.

"Mandy Higgins..." stammered Ty. "Um...this is Natalie Reardon and Howie...um..."

"Dorough," finished Howie, extending a hand.

"They're staying out to the McAllister place for a bit," finished Ty.

"Jessie's joint? Nate finally got someone?" She turned appraising eyes on Howie and then deadly ones on Natalie.

"Two someones, actually," said Howie. He got a firm handshake from Mandy.

The sister's name is Jessie, thought Natalie. I like it. It's strong. She realized that the other three were looking at her, waiting for her response. She smiled and nodded, but didn't say anything. She didn't extend her hand and neither did Mandy.

"Mm," Mandy nodded back, with an indecipherable response.

Whoa! thought Howie. This was going to be interesting. Mandy was a female of the species who could spot a rival at fifty paces. He looked over at Natalie and smiled to himself. Natalie had self-consciously crossed her arms over her somewhat smaller chest when Mandy had pressed up against Ty. Mandy had staked out her territory with just two fingers, running them down Ty's arm before tucking her arm in his. Get lost, City Woman, this one's mine.

Interesting, thought Howie. I don't exist for her. But Natalie sure lit up her radar.

Ty shifted his weight to his right leg. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, effectively removing himself from Mandy's clutches. "I was on my way to the hall now," he said, "although why you women always think you need me to help, I don't know." It was pretty obvious to Howie.

"Because you're tall and strong," purred Mandy. "You can reach all the high places."

"It's the town hall," said Ty, by way of explanation to Howie and Natalie. "There's a dance on Saturday night. It's a Buck and Doe." He grinned at the confusion on their faces. "That's a party for a bride and groom. Well, a bride and groom-to-be."

Howie nodded at the explanation. Natalie still stood against the car, saying nothing. Howie wasn't really sure how much of this she was taking in.

"Steph Morris and Pete Trose," added Mandy.

"Pete Rose?" exclaimed Natalie, finding her voice at last.

Ty threw back his head and laughed. Howie didn't see what was so funny and neither did Mandy, who narrowed her eyes at Natalie.

"No...Trose," explained Ty. "T-r-o-s-e." He laughed again.

Natalie laughed along with him. "I was beginning to wonder about this town," she said.

Howie and Mandy exchanged glances. What the hell were they talking about?

"It's a baseball thing," Natalie said to Howie, waving her hand through the air. It's nothing, the gesture said.

She's nothing, was how Mandy chose to interpret it. She had been promising herself for two years that she was going to learn something about baseball, so she could impress Ty and she had finally learned all the names of the major leagues teams. But this...

"Well, we all know who Pete Trose is," she laughed.

"Rose," said Ty. "R-o-s-e..."

"I knew that," began Mandy, but Ty talked over her, ignoring both her and Howie and speaking directly to Natalie.

"Hall of Fame?"

"For sure," was her prompt reply. They held each other's gaze for a moment. Howie and Mandy interpreted it as a look of passion - and it was, but not for each other.

"Come to the dance," said Ty, after a moment. He turned to Howie. "Everyone's welcome and it's always nice to have an extra fella along to dance with the ladies."

"Sure," said Howie. "But...um...I didn't bring any...you know...dressy clothes...how fancy is it?"

"Well, it's a cut above 'wear your best overalls'," said Ty, "but it ain't fancy." He eyed Howie's khakis and buttoned shirt. "Pretty much what you're wearing now would do," he said.

"And you too," put in Mandy, indicating Natalie's jumper. It was an obvious lie but only Ty interpreted it as a mistake.

"Well, the gals get a little more dressed up, but just because they want to," he said.

Just because they want to beat each other to one of the men, thought Natalie and Howie.

Howie made noises about how they would try and make it. Ty gave the time and directions to the hall. Mandy glared at Natalie and Natalie said nothing. Howie wondered what was the matter with her. Was she so smitten by the blond sheep rancher that she had lost the power of speech? For someone who used such big words, it was odd to see her without any at all.

"So are they married, or what?" asked Mandy, as they watched Howie and Natalie disappear into the Big Tiga. She could feel the interest between Natalie and Ty. But that made it hard to explain the guy, what was his name?

"No," said Ty and explained the situation out at the McAllister place.

"And they just moved in together?" said Mandy, dumbfounded.

"Yeah," said Ty. "It's kind of weird, isn't it? But I guess it was the easiest way...they're both there to work" he finished lamely.

Mandy hadn't seen any evidence of attraction between the two. "I guess," she said, doubt in her voice. "There's two bedrooms..." Mandy was determined to keep an eye on Natalie. She wondered if someone who had moved in with a stranger on a moment's notice would have any qualms at all about going after the local talent. She draped her hand over Ty's arm possessively. "Well, speaking of work..."

In the store, Natalie began to relax. The stock boy was there in his green apron. Jackie checked out the groceries and she wasn't brandishing a baseball bat. She nodded to Natalie and then to Howie, but didn't seem to have any particular interest in either of them.

"That was some storm last night," she said conversationally.

Natalie's head snapped up. "Yes," she stammered.

"Sun's out today, though," replied Jackie.

"Yes," said Howie, picking up the bags. "It's a lovely day."

The weather was the main topic of conversation in Crazy Jane's too. Crazy weather for this time of year...How about that thunder and lightning?...Sounded like the world was ending. There were four men there. That made six, thought Natalie. Ty and the stock boy and these four. It was okay. It was just a nightmare.

Jane came out with the cinnamon buns. She grinned at them. "Figured you two would be back for more." They didn't stay for tea this time, but paid for half a dozen buns.

"I have to go to the hardware store," said Natalie.

"What for?" asked Howie.

"Gardening gloves," she replied.

Howie looked at her oddly. Gardening gloves? He shrugged. "I have an errand to run as well. Why don't we meet back at the car in...ten minutes?"

Natalie nodded. "Yes, that will be fine." She wondered what his errand was, but didn't want to be nosey.

At the hardware store, there were three men...two who worked there and one who was buying a new wheelbarrow. Natalie surveyed the rack of gardening gloves and picked out the ones with the soft lining. She was strangely proud of herself for not getting the ones with the suede palms. She paid for them and made her way back to the car. Howie was leaning on the bumper.

"This is a nice town," he said, waving his hand at the scenery. In the park, two old men were playing checkers on a bench.

"Could you live here?" asked Natalie, thinking that all this bucolic charm would wear her down quickly.

"Not for five minutes!" said Howie. The two city slickers grinned at each other and got into the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, what do you think...shall we tear up Big Timber on Saturday night?" Howie asked as they were nearing the turn-off to the cabin.

"Oh, you go ahead. I'm sure they'd be happy to have an extra man there without a woman," Natalie answered.

Howie pondered that statement. Why didn't she want to go? It would be a chance for her to take a run at Ty. Was she afraid of Mandy? He didn't think so, but who could say? Yesterday, she hadn't seemed afraid of anything, but today she seemed nervous and everything made her startle. Or maybe she just doesn't want to go with you, said a little voice in the back of his head.

"We could take separate cars," he said out loud, thinking that he sounded pathetic for some reason.

"Why ever would we want to do that?" she asked, genuine confusion on her face. "Oh," she said, realization dawning, "in case you...with someone..."

"No, no, not me," he insisted. "You! In case you..." He stopped the car in front of the cabin.

"Me?" she retorted. "Are you kidding? Have you forgotten the man/woman ratio in this county? I wouldn't get near one of the men." She stepped up onto the porch and unlocked the door.

Howie slammed the trunk shut. He laughed, "Yeah, if you got too close to one of them, the women might come after you with sticks."

Natalie threw the door open and raced into the house. She dropped her purse on the sofa as she ran to her bedroom. Howie came through the front door and stopped. He could hear the sound of her retching. He put the groceries away with one ear tuned to her, ready to go in if she called him.

She appeared in the doorway of the bedroom a few minutes later. She was pale and shaking. Her hands were twisted together, her fingers twining and untwining. Howie was concerned.

"You okay?"

"It was...I had a...the storm..." She looked over her shoulder into the bedroom. "...a nightmare...I was...I made all the..."

Howie moved to her. She was trembling so much, he thought she might faint or fall. He put his arm around her and led her gently to the sofa, trying to make sense of the bursts of words.

"women...last man...cinnamon..."

"Stop," he said gently, sitting her down on the sofa. He perched on the edge of the armchair and took her hands in his. "Breathe."

Natalie stopped talking and took two deep breaths. That was calming, so she took another one.

"You had a nightmare last night," he said, "during the storm."

She nodded. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "The women were trying to kill me...with sticks," she whispered. "Because I made all the men disappear." She became silent, tipping her head up and staring at a spot far, far away. Howie held her hands and waited. After a moment, she lowered her head and started again. "Because of what I said...about you...to you...if you were the last man on Earth..."

Howie's lips twitched, but he held back the smile. And he didn't let go of her hands.

"Sometimes when I dream, I don't remember. But I can remember every detail of this." She looked up at him. "It's why I had to go to town. I had to be sure..." Her voice trailed off.

"Tell me," he said.

So she did. He sat there, mesmerized. Damn, she was a good storyteller!

"...and you wouldn't help me," she finished. "You just shrugged...like I was getting what I deserved. And I was."

Howie didn't like that part. He would have liked to be more chivalrous...more heroic. Natalie turned and looked at the bedroom doorway. A puzzled expression crossed her face. "And for some reason, I got up and put on the light. I don't know why I did that. It wasn't in the dream."

"I did that," said Howie.

"What? When?"

"You were screaming and thrashing around. I kind of...calmed you down...and then when you were sleeping okay, I left. But I didn't turn off the light in case...I don't know, in case I had to come back."

Natalie nodded. That explained the end of the dream, in which she had run away from the women and was trying to fight her way through the trees to escape. But she couldn't seem to move her arms and legs and so she burrowed down under some leaves and hid.

"I was holding you down," he said, listening to her description. "I was afraid you would hurt yourself."

Natalie squeezed his hands and let them go. She ran her fingers down the side of his face and stood up. "You're a sweet man, Howie Dorough," she said, "and I'm going to make you lunch and then let you get to work."

Natalie went to the kitchen and made sandwiches. Howie got out his guitar and papers. He looked them over and started picking out tunes. He was into it in seconds and didn't even notice when Natalie glided up and placed a plate and a glass of lemonade on the corner of the coffee table. He wasn't aware of her as she softly closed the front door a few minutes later. And he barely registered her presence when she came back in an hour later and tiptoed to her bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natalie woke up and looked at the clock. Four o'clock. That was a long nap! She guessed she needed it after the restless night she'd had. She cocked an ear toward the living room. She could hear soft guitar music...and he was singing. She got carefully off the bed and crept to the door. She opened it a crack and looked out. She didn't want to disturb him. He stopped playing immediately. He had turned the chair so that he was facing her door.

"There you are," he said, with a smile. "I was starting to worry."

Natalie stretched her arms up over her head and swiveled her neck in a gesture that made Howie glad he had a guitar covering his lap. "I guess I was tired after last night's escapade." She moved over to the kitchen counter. "What do you say we barbecue something for dinner?"

Howie agreed. That was a great idea. Use the outdoors while they could. Who knew what the weather fairy would bring them next? He made a move to come and help her but she told him to keep going with his work.

Natalie moved around the kitchen, taking things out of the fridge and cupboards. She tried to keep as quiet as she could. A soft smile crossed her lips as he started working with the song he had struggled with the day before...the one that had almost cost him his life, she thought to herself. It was such a pretty song here in the sunshine and warm air, but had been screeching and discordant in the damp, grey mist of yesterday.

"Go down on that," she said, then stopped and pressed her lips together. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. Howie lifted his hand from the guitar strings and looked at her. They stared at each other for a moment. Aw hell, she thought, I've done it again. Why can't I keep my big mouth shut?!

"What do you mean?" asked Howie.

"Well, that line in the song" she stammered. "You always go up at the end of it." She waved her hand upward and then brought it self-consciously down to her side. The guy knows what 'up' is, you fool. "It's just...I don't know...I don't know anything about music...but every time you get to that part..." She sighed. He hadn't moved, just kept staring at her. "I always expect it to go down. It surprises me every time when your voice goes up." Her hand moved to make the upward gesture again, but she grabbed it with her other hand just in time. "Sorry," she whispered.

Howie strummed the guitar. He played the line again, going up at the end of it. Well, that shows me, doesn't it? thought Natalie. But he wasn't done. He played it again, dropping the note at the end. And then again, and then again, each time with a slight variation. And then finally, perfection. They both knew it when he found it. He looked up at her and grinned, singing the line to her.

Her stomach flipped over. "You're beautiful," she whispered, without thinking. Howie looked up at her. Pardon? "The song...it's beautiful," she said, and started ripping lettuce into pieces. She put her head down to hide her blush.

Howie made some notations and then stacked the papers neatly into his briefcase. He was done for the day. He laced his fingers together and stretched out the kinks. This had been a good day. He had got a lot done. He looked over at Natalie. He smiled to himself, remembering their fight of the day before. The last man on Earth. In the dream, he had gone with the women, she said. Howie watched her move around the kitchen. No, he didn't think so. He thought that given the choice, he would stay right here with her.

"So why don't you want to go to the dance?" Howie brought the subject up again after dinner.

They had eaten on the patio, enjoying the warm summer air. They had moved closer to becoming friends. Howie grilled the steaks and some vegetable kebabs, while Natalie set the table and put out the salad. Over dinner, they talked about their childhood, exchanging warm stories from their past.

Natalie wrinkled her nose. She stood up and picked up some dishes. She went into the kitchen and set them by the sink. Howie followed her in with the rest of the dishes.

"I would have thought you would want an opportunity to..." Howie didn't quite know how to say this.

"An opportunity to what?" Natalie was genuinely bemused. She began filling the sink with water.

"Um...you know" Howie shook his head back and forth. "Um...get to know Ty better...."

Natalie laughed. "Me and Ty? Are you crazy? We could add Mandy to the cast of my next nightmare."

Howie felt strangely relieved by her comment. "I just thought...I don't know...you seemed interested..."

Natalie looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

"And so did he," Howie hastened to add. He picked up a towel and began drying the dishes.

"He's a good-looking man," said Natalie. "And he was very kind. But I didn't come here for that." She looked over at him. "And now that I know how scarce men are around here, I wouldn't be so foolish as to try and grab one of them." She paused. "It kind of makes you wonder, though. He'd be what, thirty?"

"Yeah, about my age, I think," said Howie, after pondering a moment. He wondered how old Natalie was.

"So how come no one has snatched him up yet? How has he managed to remain single?"

Howie laughed. "Well, if Mandy has her way, he won't be single for long!"

They laughed and finished the dishes. While Natalie was wiping the counter, Howie came back to it. "So why don't you want to go to the dance?"

Natalie sighed. "I can't dance," she admitted sheepishly, feeling her cheeks flame.

"You don't know how to dance?" asked Howie with a small smile of disbelief.

"No, I know how to dance. I know what you're supposed to do. I just can't. I mean, I'm no good at it. I have two left feet."

"Then don't use your feet," said Howie.

Natalie raised an eyebrow. "How does one do that...dance without using your feet?"

Howie turned and went to the stereo. He perused the CDs and pulled one out of the rack. "Come here," he said. He punched a button and music filled the air. It had a slight Latin flavor to it.

Natalie looked at him doubtfully. He grinned at her and beckoned her forward. "Seriously, come here."

Natalie approached him cautiously. What was he going to do? "Really, Howie, I'm a bad dancer. A bad, bad dancer."

"No such thing," he said, taking her hands. "Close your eyes. Go on, trust me. Close them." Natalie closed her eyes. "Good girl. Now move to the music. No...not your feet, just your body."

Natalie tried to do it, but it was hard. She kept taking little steps. She opened her eyes and grimaced at Howie. "I told you I was no good at this."

"Well, you will be when I'm through with you." He moved behind her and put his hands on her waist. He moved to the music, letting the rhythm move through his hands into her body. She started to sway.

"That's it," he whispered into her ear. The reaction that engendered in her psyche caused her to sway a little more. She pressed her lips together to stifle the whimper.

They moved together. "Relax," he whispered, which had the effect of making her stiffen. She wasn't thinking about dancing all that much anymore. Her movements became jerky and she lost the flow of the music. Howie moved up behind her. He took his hands from her waist. With his left hand, he picked up hers. He reached around her with his right and placed it on her abdomen. He stood behind her and pressed up against her gently, moving her body with his. "Just close your eyes and let the music move through you," he said softly.

So she did. And by the time the song ended, she was actually keeping the beat. They stood together for a moment in the silence, both of them somewhere else. A new song began. Howie let her go and moved to the fridge.

"See, you can do it. Would you like some lemonade?" He cleared his throat to remove the huskiness. He didn't offer wine. He didn't want to introduce intoxicants into this situation.

"That would be nice," said Natalie. Or we could just shove some ice cubes down my shirt, she thought. Feelings were starting up in her that she didn't want to have. She did not want to like this man. She did not want to...to want this man. She wanted to finish her book and go back to Manhattan. Go back to hating men, as a substitute for being hurt by them.

"Here you go. Ready for lesson two?" Howie handed her the glass, smiling sweetly.

Natalie sipped the lemonade slowly. What should she do? There was no way she would insult him by refusing the dance lesson. She would just have to steel herself and try to get through it without moaning out loud.

It turned out that it wasn't that difficult. Howie was very professional with her, like a teacher. And he was a very good teacher. And an incredible dancer. They danced for four songs before he would allow her to move her feet. After the second one, he let her go and moved around in front of her. He placed his hands on her waist. "Close your eyes," he said, "and feel the music." She closed her eyes because to look at him was too unnerving, too distracting. But with her eyes closed, she could concentrate on the music.

"Don't concentrate so hard," he told her. "Just feel it."

She opened her mouth to answer back but swallowed the retort. He was being very kind and not making any kind of sexual overtures. He was really just trying to teach her to dance and he was very good at it and very sincere. She swayed back and forth and let the music take over her mind and her body.

And then bit by bit, he let her move. He took her hands and pulled her toward him and then pushed her away. Forward and back. Forward and back. "Close your eyes," he would say, every time she opened them. "Don't think about it. Feel it."

Then he took her in his arms and moved her around the room...softly humming the song in her ear...feeling the music himself. Finally, they did one whole song without her stepping on him or tripping over her feet.

"Wow!" she said, "I can dance!" She threw her arms around him and hugged him. "Thank you!!"

"My pleasure," he said. But he stepped back from her abruptly.

Dammit! She had crossed the line. "Oh my, look at the time," she said, although she couldn't seem to focus her eyes on her watch. "I should be turning in. I'll want to get an early start tomorrow. I didn't do anything today..."

He grinned at her. "Well now, that's not exactly true. You put the universe back in the right order."

"That's right," she said, "and I learned how to dance. Pretty big accomplishments. Both of them."

"So will you go, then? To the dance?" said Howie.

"Sure," said Natalie. "It will be my gift to the community."

He looked confused.

"All those girls that will get a dance with you... They will be in my debt forever."

Howie blushed and ducked his head. "Aw, come on..."

"And Howie?" she said, suddenly serious.

"Yes?"

"Dance with the wallflowers first."

"Wallflowers?"

"You know, the girls that never get asked to dance. The ones that sit hopefully on the sidelines watching the Mandys of the world dance every dance. There's nothing for you to lose here. Will you do that for me?"

Howie looked at her. He wondered if she considered herself a wallflower or a Mandy. She was a fine looking woman but that didn't mean that she hadn't been an awkward teenager. When they had been sharing childhood stories earlier, she had changed the subject every time high school had been mentioned, so he figured it hadn't been the best of experiences for her.

"Were you a wallflower?" he asked, the words out of his mouth before his brain could stop them.

She nodded and her eyes went far away. "Too many big words," she whispered to the wall.

"Pardon?" said Howie. knowing that she hadn't really been speaking to him, but wanting to hear the explanation anyway.

She came back to the present and smiled at him sadly. "They were afraid of me," she said. "The guys...they all thought if they tried to talk to me, I'd...I don't know...want to discuss Einstein's Theory of Relativity or recite from Shakespeare or something. My guy 'friends'..." she made quotation marks with her fingers, "...you know, the boyfriends of my girlfriends, they kept saying to them, why don't you ask Natalie, whenever a party or whatever would come along...but they all said, 'what would we talk about?' The guys would tell them. Baseball. Talk to her about baseball." She shrugged and moved her hands through the air in a 'what the hell' gesture. "It's okay, don't feel sorry for me. I hit my stride in college."

Howie smiled at her. Yes, he bet she had. College guys weren't afraid of big words.

"But Howie..." she continued.

"Yes?"

"Wallflowers first."

He nodded.

Natalie looked at herself in the mirror. This was as good as it was going to get, she guessed. She really had no idea how to dress for this dance. She hadn't brought anything dressy with her. She had on the madras print skirt that she had worn in her nightmare. Instead of the green t-shirt, however, she had a peasant-style blouse. It was a little fancier. She wondered if Howie would like it.

Stop that, she said to her reflection. Get your mind back on track or you will never finish the damn book.

Natalie had gotten up early that morning. She had taken the computer out onto the porch so that the typing wouldn't disturb Howie. She had to go back into the cabin a couple of times to check items on her story board and had eased the door open and shut as quietly as possible. The door needed some oil, she thought. I should've bought that instead of gardening gloves. On one of her forays in, she heard the shower running, so she brought the computer back inside and plugged it back in to recharge the battery.

"Good morning."

She turned to give a response. He was standing in the bathroom doorway, dressed in sweatpants...and that was all. He was rubbing his head with a towel, the action making the well-defined muscles in his arms and chest do interesting things to Natalie's breathing patterns.

She'd gone to bed the night before, her thoughts and feelings in disarray. She gave herself a stern lecture. She was here to do work. She was here because she fallen behind, and she'd fallen behind because of a man. She could not let another man interfere with her life. Especially one that didn't seem to have any interest in her. What a waste of time it would be to keep thinking about his arms around her and that soft voice telling her to feel the music! Way to go, she thought. Now you'll never get to sleep. But she had, and she'd had pleasant dreams. She couldn't remember them, but she woke up with a warm feeling of satisfaction.

"Did you sleep well?" she managed to croak out.

"Yes, thank you," he replied. And then, "that door needs oil."

"I'm sorry. I thought if I worked on the porch, you wouldn't hear the typing. But my story board..." She waved a hand vaguely in that direction. Great! she thought. We've done it again. We've started the day with a 'sorry'.

"It's okay," said Howie. He yawned. "I read until quite late. I love doing that and then sleeping in. It's a perfect start to the day." He nodded at the computer. "How's the work going?"

It was their best day so far, she thought. They hadn't argued once. They had given each other space to work, and both agreed at the end of the day that they had accomplished a lot. Natalie put the finishing touches on her makeup and picked up her hairbrush. Yes, if they could have more days like today, they could easily make it through the next week. Natalie just had to concentrate on keeping her hands to herself. She was a touchy-feely kind of a person, always putting a hand on someone's arm as she spoke to them or patting them if they made her laugh. And the more comfortable she got with someone, the more she did it. And Howie had these curls at the back of his neck that she just wanted to... She shook her head. Snap out of it, she told herself. NOW!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Howie looked at himself in the mirror. He looked good, he thought. He was wearing beige khakis and a dark brown shirt. Tucked in too. He laughed to himself. If he had been at home, he wouldn't have tucked it in, or even have done it up completely. But he figured that in Big Timber, Montana, that might mark him as a person who didn't know how to dress himself, rather than a fashion leader. He undid the buttons from the top down...one, then two, then three...nope...two. Yeah, that was it. Not sleazy, but not tightass, as AJ would say. AJ. Howie sighed as he thought of his friend. His mind naturally went to the others. Nick. Brian. Kevin. He wondered what they were doing. They had really lost touch with each other. Oh, they still talked on the phone. Whenever one of them would be interviewed or announce a solo project, the others would call. But it wasn't like it was before. There would be congratulations and questions of clarification. They all wanted to be on the same page. But the brotherhood had been replaced by an aloofness...nothing deliberate, just a moving apart. Howie guessed it was a natural course, and probably a healthy one. They had lived in each other's pockets for too long. But still he sighed again.

Well, you'd better get rid of this mopey attitude for the dance, he told himself. He wondered if he would be recognized by anyone at the dance. He didn't know if he wanted to be or if he didn't want to be. He had gone almost a whole week without anyone asking for an autograph or shoving a microphone in his face. He liked it, but it was weird at the same time. Back home, if he went shopping, people let him be, ignored him, but they were still aware of who he was. But here they didn't seem to have any idea. And living with a Backstreet Boy hadn't caused the slightest blip on Natalie's radar.

He smiled again as he thought of dancing with her. He had enjoyed last night...and today. Today was their best day so far. They hadn't argued about anything. She seemed to have lost some of that edge. He wondered what that guy had done to her to make her so bitter. There had to be more than just the fact that he was married. He remembered that the biggest insult she could throw at him when they were having the fight was that he was a 'man'. He grimaced at the mirror.

He just had to concentrate on keeping his hands to himself. She was a very attractive woman and he would be interested at any time. But in the close confines of the cabin...she was filling up his psyche. Even when they were fighting, it was exciting. She had a spirit about her...she didn't take much from anyone. But at the same time, she was wounded...vulnerable.

Her scent was intoxicating. He wondered what it was...not flowery, a hint of musk, but not much. He had breathed it in while he had held her last night, trying to move the music through his body into hers. He was certainly glad he hadn't had his shirt tucked in then! He was having an obvious reaction to his closeness and when she hugged him at the end, he was afraid she would notice so he had stepped back from her.

And cooking together was becoming excruciating. They moved around the kitchen, their hands busy...chopping, stirring, peeling. Their bodies grazed against each other. There were times when he wanted to drop everything and grab her, put his mouth on those lips, run his hands over...Get a grip, Sweet D, he told himself. Snap out of it!

Mealtimes, during both the preparation and the eating, were when they had their best conversations. At dinner tonight, they had discussed government subsidies for farmers. It was a subject that he didn't think he knew anything about or even had an opinion on. It turned out that he was wrong on both counts.

That was another thing he liked about her. She was obviously very bright and, man, did she use a lot of big words. But it wasn't put on...she wasn't trying to impress him or intimidate him...it was just the way she was. And he wasn't intimidated. He'd been to college. Oh, he knew she could kick his ass in any kind of IQ test or vocabulary quiz, but he wasn't the dim-bulb Backstreet Boy he was made out to be. He had a head for business. And he sensed that she realized that. And that pleased him.

And she was in awe of his talent. She had said so. Right in the middle of dinner. Right after questioning the wisdom of the government paying American farmers to let their land lie fallow, when much of the Third World was starving to death. Right there. She had made a comparison to his music. Would he stop writing songs, she asked, just let his awesome talent lie dormant, because the price of records was dropping due to a glut on the market?

He had smiled at her. No, he wouldn't.

"Sing me one," she said. "One of the Spanish ones." He had given her more details about his upcoming CD earlier.

"Do you speak Spanish?" he asked.

"Just a little...movie lines and travel phrases. Your song wouldn't be called 'una cerveza, por favor', would it?"

He had laughed out loud at that. He wasn't sure a song called, 'Could I have a beer, please?' would race up the charts. Maybe the country charts, Natalie had said, and they had laughed together, wondering how many songs they would hear tonight about beer...or trucks...or dogs...

"...or low-life, heartbreaking, cheatin' men," Natalie had finished with a laugh that turned into a sigh.

Howie had got out his guitar and, while Natalie carried the dishes from the table, he got comfortable and picked out the opening chords. She had stood on the other side of the kitchen counter and listened intently. He wasn't sure if she liked the song or not. At the end, she had said nothing for a moment, and then had murmured, "lovely" and then left the room, tossing "time to get ready" over her shoulder.

Well, he was ready, thought Howie. Now get out there and let's hope she's not looking too hot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If only I hadn't asked him to sing in Spanish, thought Natalie, giving a last pat to her hair. That had removed every inhibition from her head and body. If he had said, "Get undressed..." when he stopped singing, she would have been naked before he could have put down the guitar. But he didn't, of course. He just played the final notes and gave that enigmatic smile, wanting her opinion - not just her approval, but her honest opinion. He had thanked her twice today for her suggestion about his song and had asked what she thought of another one he was working on.

But she hadn't given him much on the Spanish song. Because she couldn't speak. She couldn't think. She could barely breathe. It was beautiful. He was beautiful and she had gripped the countertop hard to keep herself from putting her hands on him. She'd made some feeble comment about the time and staggered from the room, her legs shaking.

She shook her head at her reflection. Okay, now get out there and keep your distance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natalie opened the bedroom door and came out into the living room. Howie was putting the last of the dishes into the draining rack.

"I was going to get to those," said Natalie. Until you started singing, mi amigo, she thought. And I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.

Howie smiled at her. "It's okay. Didn't take long. Nice outfit."

"Thanks," said Natalie, twirling around. "Do you think it will be appropriate for the dance?"

"Yes," said Howie, "not too hot."

"Thanks...I think," she said sarcastically, but her eyes were twinkling.

Howie blushed and stammered, "I meant that...like...in a non-threatening way."

"No woman is going to feel the need to beat me up?" she asked.

"Maybe Mandy," said Howie, who still wasn't convinced there wasn't some kind of attraction between Natalie and Ty. "Well, shall we?" he asked, looking at his watch.

"Let's go dancing," said Natalie.

The dance was pretty much what they expected it to be, and also more than they could ever have imagined. They both had a vision - Hollywood-induced, they agreed - of what a Montana Buck-and-Doe would be, and they both felt guilty for it. Each of them pictured men in jeans and cowboy boots, sneaking drinks out of hip flasks, or disappearing out to their pickup trucks to pull a beer out of the cooler and share a story, one foot up on the back bumper, cowboy hat tilted back, while their women waited patiently for them inside.

They saw the women dressed in gingham, which they both knew couldn't be true, but they couldn't seem to see them any other way but in jeans, and they knew that wouldn't happen.

They pulled into the parking lot of the town hall. Howie turned off the car and looked at Natalie. Neither said anything for a moment. Finally, Natalie spoke. "Well, we sure nailed it on the pickup trucks."

Howie looked around and laughed. "Come on City Slicker, let's get in there." He came around the car and opened her door. He offered his hand and she took it, stepping out gracefully. Howie wanted to lean her up against the car and kiss her for an hour or two. "Let's try not to say anything to tick off the locals," he whispered in her ear.

Kiss me. She pressed her lips together. Had she said it out loud? Apparently not, because he wasn't looking shocked. And he wasn't kissing her.

They walked into the hall. From the street, it looked like it could serve many purposes. It had windows down the side and wide doors at the front. It could easily be a school or a church...or a dance hall. Inside was a small foyer. There was a door at each end. One had a sign that said 'Gents' and the other one that said 'Gals'. There was a rolling metal rack at the side with coat hangers, but they hung empty on this warm July evening.

Ahead of them was a table with a plastic-covered book that said Our Guests. Beside it lay a pen attached to a long white feather and a picture frame holding a portrait of the happy couple.

"Good evening," said a woman standing behind the table. She gave Howie a quick look and then nodded at him. Natalie looked at him too. He seemed uncomfortable.

"Yeah, hi!" said Natalie, when it became obvious that Howie wasn't going to say anything. She looked at the woman. She was wearing a navy dress with small pink flowers and a lace collar. Her hair was...well, puffy. "We...um...we're staying at...um..."

"The McAllister place," filled in the woman.

Not too many secrets in a small town, guessed Natalie. "Yes," she answered. "We know this is a private party, but Ty Harper..."

The woman waved Natalie's words away. "No such thing as a private party around here. And Mandy told us she invited you all."

Okay, thought Natalie. She hadn't been totally with it the day before, but she was pretty sure the only thing Mandy would have invited her to was Natalie's own execution.

The woman looked embarrassed. "It's...um...it's...we sell tickets," she said finally.

Howie had his wallet out before she finished the sentence. He handed over the twenty dollar fee without blinking and added a second one. The woman looked like she wanted to refuse it, but Howie pressed her hand around it and said, "For the happy couple".

The woman beamed thanks on him and then continued, "Would you please sign the guest book?" She handed the pen to Howie. "Unless you don't like signing autographs," she added, surprising Natalie because the words were directed at her not him.

"No, it's okay," she said carefully, taking the pen from Howie, when he was done.
"Nice to see you again, Sir," said the woman to Howie, as Natalie bent to ink her name in the book. She went to fill in the line below Howie's and then changed her mind, writing "and Natalie Reardon" beside his signature.

"Do you know her?" whispered Natalie, as they moved past the table and entered the hall.

"I met her yesterday," said Howie, "while you were at the hardware store. Oh my..."

They stopped inside the door. The ladies of the town had certainly gotten the most out of Ty. Big pink and white bells made out of accordion paper, hung from the lights in the middle of the room. Pink and white streamers twisted together arched from there to various points on the wall ending in large crepe paper bows. 'Congratulations' was spelled out in a chain of gold cut-out letters that had obviously been used few times. The bottom part of the 'g' was taped on, probably having been torn off by some careless 'undecorator' in the past. 'Steph and Pete' was written in black marker on a piece of white Bristol board. This hung below the 'congratulations' sign.

"I guess they just fill in the blank," said Howie, mirroring Natalie's thoughts. "Here comes Ty," he added.

"And Mandy," said Natalie.

Ty was approaching from the other end of the hall near a stage. He had been talking to...Natalie guessed it was a DJ...and held up his hand to him in a 'be right back' gesture as soon as he saw them come in.

Mandy had been conversing with a group of women at the side of the hall. They were setting out paper cups around a punch bowl. Mandy never took her eyes off Ty and she followed his glance to the door. When she saw where he was headed, she moved to intercept him and they arrived at Howie and Natalie at the same time.

"Howie, Natalie, so nice you could join us," purred Mandy, slipping her arm through Ty's, establishing her possession.

"It was kind of you to invite us," responded Natalie. She was determined to be sweet and kind and totally non-threatening. Not because she was afraid of Mandy, but because she was afraid for her. It was obvious how she felt about Ty and the cold sweat of desperation was beginning to ooze from her psyche.

Howie shook hands with Ty and nodded a smile to Mandy.

"Come and meet some people," said Ty.

"Oh, I'll take them around," said Mandy. "You go finish helping Jake with the music."

Mandy proceeded to march them around the room, introducing them by their first names to assorted couples and groups. She introduced them as if they were one person. "This is HowieandNatalie. This is Mary...and Louise...and Susan..."

There were way more women than men. Howie and Natalie had guessed pretty well about the men - cowboy boots and their dressiest jeans. Not too many cowboy hats, though. More baseball caps with farm equipment company logos on them.

The women were dressed according to their age and marital status. Over thirty? Got yourself a man? Then flowers work for you. Natalie had never seen so many variations on a theme. Pansies, roses, tulips... She wouldn't be surprised if her hay fever started acting up. And lace collars. Everywhere. Some were attached to the dress, but some were a separate piece. How handy, thought Natalie. In case you wanted to fancy up your second-best floral dress.

The single-and-looking women - the desperation generation - were dressed in solid colors, black and red mostly, and stretchy knit fabrics that hugged their curves and displayed their assets. Their shoes had higher heels than the settled women, who had no need to show off their calves and just opted for comfort.

The teenagers had tried the hardest to be what they were not - women. They had obviously pored over the latest edition of Cosmogirl and then decided that more was better in the way of makeup and less was better in the way of clothing. Natalie bet there had been more than one argument over the dinner table tonight about how short a skirt was or how low it hung on the hips.

"You're not going out of this house looking like that, young lady!"

"But all the other girls will be dressed this way! Please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The hair was the same on all of them. Long and puffy - teased to the max and then molded into shape and lacquered with hairspray.

And all of the were vying for the same thing - someone asking them to dance. Howie was going to have his work cut out for him, for sure!

They stopped in front of a group of teenagers. "HowieandNatalie," intoned Mandy.

The girls stared at them and then one of them spoke. "It is you, isn't it?" She promptly burst into tears.

Every head in the place came up at the sound of the crying. The testosterone level rose to a dangerous mark. If there had been pistols in the place, they would all have been cocked and pointed at Howie's head.

Howie smiled shyly.

"Omigod, omigod, omigod," sobbed the girl, fanning her shaking hands in front of her face. "I just love you so much. I have all your CDs and videos. I...I..."

Natalie could barely make out the words in the choking, gasping sobs. She looked at Howie and watched him turn into a Backstreet Boy.

"Thank you," he said simply. "That's very kind of you. We like to hear that from our fans. Would you like a hug?" He opened his arms and the girl fell into them. He rubbed her back and whispered soothing words to her. Then he set her gently away from him.

The word had spread quickly and there was now a small crowd of girls, and some older women as well, gathering around him, calling his name, touching his arm. Pens and pieces of paper had been produced from somewhere. Howie looked at Natalie and shrugged. Then he went to work, signing autographs, giving hugs and winks, letting them take pictures and constantly reassuring them that the group had not broken up, the five brothers were just doing their own thing for awhile. Two of the girls started arguing about Nick's album and Howie stopped it with a terse, "I loved it."

Eventually, Howie extricated himself and made his way back to Natalie, who had been moved aside by the fans and who now stood by the refreshment table with Mandy.

"That's a sweet man," said Mandy. "I didn't realize who he was. I like the music and all, I guess, but I'd a never known he was a big star."

"That's a sweet man, too," said Natalie, nodding in Ty's direction. "Why haven't you snapped him up?"

"Well, it ain't as easy as ropin' him and draggin' him home," said Mandy bristling. Who did this City Woman think she was?

"Have you ever tried that?" asked Natalie with a grin. "It might work."

Mandy sighed. "Pictured it in my head once or twice, but never acted on it...Hey, Howie, that was nice of you...to pose for the pictures and all."

Howie accepted a glass of punch.

"I got something out in the truck if you'd like a drink with a little more kick to it," said Ty, coming up to them. Howie assured them that this was fine.

The music started and the lights dimmed. Natalie wondered if the crying girl would be wallflower number one, and was surprised when Howie asked Mandy to dance. He winked at Natalie. Trust me.

Ty shuffled his feet back and forth. He knew he should ask Natalie to dance. "I ain't much of a dancer," he muttered.

"Me neither," said Natalie with relief in her voice. "I'd rather watch." They looked at Howie and Mandy moving gracefully around the floor, the only couple out there. It was a country song, with lots of twang, but a good beat. Everyone was watching them.

"Mandy's a good dancer," said Natalie, tentatively.

"Mandy's good at everything," Ty responded with a sigh.

Then why the hell aren't you married to her? wondered Natalie. Here was a mystery she wanted to solve.

So, as Howie moved around the dance floor, working his way through a carefully orchestrated hierarchy of girls and women, Natalie moved around the outside of the room, chatting with this woman and that one, asking about their families, getting to know them and gathering clues to solve the riddle of Mandy and Ty.

 

After an hour, there was a break in the music. It was an opportunity for flirtation consolidation... could the vibrations that were established in a dance or in sidelong glances across the hall be added to with a quiet conversation and a glass of punch? The attached men headed to the parking lot.

"Air," said Howie, breathlessly, grabbing Natalie's hand. "I need air."

Natalie laughed and squeezed his hand. "Come on, City Slicker, let's give them a chance to talk about us."

They went out of the hall and wandered down the street. They enjoyed the full moon and the soft breeze and each other's company. Neither was inclined to let go of the other's hand.

"Are they all as wonderful as you?" asked Natalie. "The Boys, I mean."

Howie laughed. "Well, we've had ten years of practice. That's not the first crying girl I've come across."

Natalie smiled. That wasn't really what she meant. She had watched him dance every dance. She had been wrong to tell him 'wallflowers first' and she was glad that he had realized it. By dancing with Mandy first, he had done two things, complimented his erstwhile hostess and proved himself to be a man who danced with pretty girls. The next girl he asked 'just happened' to be standing where he and Mandy stopped at the end of the song. She was the homeliest girl in the place and she knew it. Her dress was old-fashioned and too big for her and her slip was showing. Her hair was long and stringy and she kept her head bowed, using her hair like a curtain to hide her face.

When Howie asked her to dance, she looked over both her shoulders, trying to figure out who he was talking to. He held out his hand. "Please." Her feet moved her forward. Natalie didn't know what he said to her while they danced, but by the end, the girl was glowing.

Howie had moved effortlessly around the room, seeming to pick girls at random, but Natalie could see that he had already reached most of the wallflowers, as well as the bride-to-be and her mother.

At first, the men had stared at him suspiciously. He had made Becky Wilson cry and that had raised their hackles. They had accepted the explanation but it still didn't set right with them. And here he was, making them all look bad by dancing every dance.

Most of the men attended these dances because their women made them. They would enjoy the male company and the visits to the coolers in the parking lot, but they could have done without the dancing.

Usually, no one danced for the first few songs. Then the bride-to-be would force her intended out onto the floor. The single men would dance with their girlfriend and one or two of her unaccompanied friends. The married men had no choice, of course. They followed their wives' beckoning index fingers.

The single women would gather at the refreshment tables or in little groups around the room, trying not to look desperate, trying to look totally disinterested in such an activity as dancing. They would glance hopefully at any man who made a step in their direction. Finally, after an hour or so, they would give up and start dancing with each other.

And this City Fella was upsetting the routine. He began dancing as soon as the music started. This took away the usual half-hour reprieve as women with significant others hauled them out onto the floor. Once a bunch of them started dancing, all bets were off. Some of the single women even started asking men to dance - men who were too startled by this turn of events to say 'no'.

It was hard to hate the guy, though. When he had walked up to Steph and Pete, he had actually asked Pete's permission to dance with his fiancée. "Sure, go ahead," said Pete, and then watched warily as Howie guided Stephanie around the floor. The guy was a good dancer, no doubt about that.

"So what have you been up to while I have been squiring the lovely ladies?" asked Howie. He had seen her moving around, had rarely taken his eyes off her, in fact.

"I've been getting to know people," said Natalie.

"Going to write a mystery about them?" asked Howie.

"No, I've been solving one," said Natalie. "Finding out why Ty is so gunshy of marriage."

"Because Cass Whitney broke his heart," said Howie with a grin.

"That's right!" said Natalie, in surprise. "How the hell did you find that out?"

He shrugged. "People tell me stuff. I don't know all the details, though."

"They were high school sweethearts," said Natalie, "the perfect couple - the jock and the cheerleader. Everyone figured they'd get married, especially Ty. His dad died when he was in his senior year of high school and he had to forgo college to take over the farm. He didn't mind too much, he hadn't really wanted to go to college anyway. But Cass did. So off she went and she came home the first summer to plan the wedding and the second one to cancel it. She had outgrown him, she said...him, Big Timber and the entire state of Montana. She was going to California to make her fortune in the movies."

"Did she make it? Her fortune, I mean?" asked Howie.

"She worked as a secretary for a press agent for awhile and then married some guy and had three kids. She never comes home, apparently."

"And Ty isn't willing to put it on the line again?" guessed Howie.

"Yes, it seems that Mandy is the soul of patience and has gotten him close a couple of times, but then he backs away.

"Any other women interested?" asked Howie.

"Well, in the early days, apparently quite a few of them took a run at him, but Mandy's been the one with staying power and it's kind of an unwritten rule now...Hands off Ty!"

"Sounds like everyone thinks they're made for each other, except Ty," said Howie.

"Oh, I think he knows it too," murmured Natalie. "I think he's afraid to mess with the situation the way it is in case he wrecks it." Yes, thought Natalie to herself, it was going to be up to Mandy.

They had made their way back to the hall. They could hear the music start again.

"Back to work," said Howie, with a sigh.

"Ah, you love it," said Natalie, letting go of his hand. He winked at her and headed back into the dance.

Natalie lingered in the foyer. There was a lineup for the ladies room. She joined it. The lady in front of her was the one who had greeted them on their arrival. She turned to Natalie and held out her hand.

"It's an honor to meet you, Miss...um...Ms. Reardon," said the woman.

"Call me Natalie,"

"Natalie. I'm Shelley Burton. I'm the town librarian. I've read all your books."

"Thank you," said Natalie, simply. She shook the woman's hand. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"Yes, I've read all of them...and more than once! They're very well-written."

"Thank you," said Natalie again, wondering why anyone would want to read a mystery twice. Then she looked toward the hall. This was the woman Howie had met yesterday. He'd gone to the library?

"Is Mr. Dorough enjoying the book?" Shelley asked, and then stopped. "I mean...I'm sure he is...I...I...it's my favorite, the one I recommended to him. The Treasure Trail."

"He came to the library?" asked Natalie. "To get one of my books?"

"Yes, he asked if we had any Natalie Reardon books, and I said, of course we do, they're very popular and he asked me to recommend one. Was that okay?"

"Yes...yes, of course. That was very kind of you. Good choice, too! It's my favorite, as well." Natalie smiled at the woman, who beamed back.

"So Mandy says you're here to do work? Does that mean we'll be getting another Natalie Reardon mystery soon?" ventured Shelley.

Natalie nodded.

"Set in Montana?" asked the librarian hopefully.

"Not this one," replied Natalie, "but maybe the next one."

Shelley had reached the front of the line. Natalie stared at her shoes for the minute or so it took until it was her turn. She went into the small room. Why did they always paint these rooms that sickly green, she wondered.

When she came out, she saw Mandy standing at the table, glancing through the guest book. She glared at Natalie. "I understand you been asking a lot of questions about Ty," she said.

"Pounce on him," said Natalie, cutting across the other woman's words.

"What?!"

"Pounce on him. He feels the same way about you as you do about him."

Mandy's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"I mean it," said Natalie. "Rope him, tie him, whatever the Montana equivalent of 'pounce' is, but go after him." She softened her voice. "He wants you to."

First, Mandy looked suspicious, then thoughtful. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away. Natalie followed her into the dance. She looked around for Howie. She spotted him on the dance floor with a very attractive woman in his arms. I guess he worked his way through all the wallflowers, she thought, with a twinge of jealousy.

Out of the corner of her eye, Natalie saw a flash of red, as Mandy made her way to Ty. She reached up and put her mouth at his ear. Whatever she said made him turn beet red. She raked her fingernails down his shirt front and pushed him backward onto the dance floor. She melted into his arms and they swayed together.

Natalie smiled to herself and looked around the room. There were many nudges and smiles of satisfaction, and not just among the women. Go, Mandy, go!

"May I have this dance?"

Natalie turned to find Howie at her shoulder. He held out his hand. "Please."

Natalie made a face. "What if I...?"

"You won't," he assured her.

She moved into his arms. It was a slow song and they didn't move much...at least not their feet. Their hips swayed together and the music moved through them. Howie held her hand in his and placed his other one gently in the small of her back. She put her head on his shoulder and put her arm around him. She couldn't resist playing with the curls on his neck.

There were more nudges and smiles throughout the hall. Better alert the Volunteer Fire Brigade. Sparks were gonna fly out at the McAllister place tonight!

It was just after midnight when they got home. Farm animals don't know when it's the weekend and people had to be up early for chores. Howie and Natalie had stayed until the end, and even helped with the tidying up. They didn't have to get up early, after all. They had smiled graciously at people who said goodbye and nodded their thanks at offers to 'join us for church'. Mandy and Ty had stayed on to help with the tidying up as well.

"You are a very sweet man," said Mandy to Howie, as they walked around the hall, gathering cups and napkins and dumping them into a large plastic garbage can on wheels. Howie ducked his head in embarrassment. "I mean it," said Mandy. "You made a lot of girls happy tonight. And you didn't have to. You could've spent the whole night..." She nodded over at Natalie, who was folding the tablecloth at the refreshment table.

"Actually, it was her idea," said Howie, thinking that if he'd spent the whole night with Natalie in his arms, they would not have remained vertical for long. "She's good people," he added.

"I know," said Mandy with a grin. Then she leaned in close to Howie and said softly, "She told me to pounce on Ty."

Howie laughed and then looked at the earnest face. Mandy was biting her lower lip.

"Do you think I should?"

Howie didn't really know how to answer that. "Well, from an outsider's point of view...I mean, I don't know what you do in Montana...but it's obvious that you're attracted to each other..."

"Yes," she sighed, "but pouncing...I don't know..."

Howie shrugged. "What have you got to lose? Figure that out first. And then go for it!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Howie chuckled to himself as he shut off the car. Natalie raised her eyebrows at him.

"You told Mandy to pounce on Ty."

"Yes, I did," laughed Natalie. "Do you think she will?"

"Oh, I'd say Mr. Harper's days as a single man are numbered," he replied. He got out of the car and walked around to open the door for Natalie. But she was already out and halfway to the door.

Natalie opened the door to the cabin. She wanted to run straight to her bedroom and close the door behind her. Well, actually what she wanted to do was strip every piece of clothing from his body and touch him all over. But hiding in the bedroom seemed like a better idea.

She set down her purse and started fussing with things, straightening items on the kitchen counter that were already straight. She moved the magnet on the fridge a fraction of an inch and then moved it back again. She looked up to see Howie advancing slowly and deliberately toward her. No! she told herself. Don't!

She had sat on her hands on the drive home, saying nothing. In fact, she had said very little to anyone at all after dancing with Howie. She had continued moving from group to group, but now all she did was listen. Shelley the Librarian had mentioned to a few people that Natalie might be using Big Timber as the setting for her next book and people had lots of stories to tell. They were good stories too! Natalie wished she had a tape recorder with her because she knew she wouldn't remember them all. The state her mind was in right now, she'd be lucky to remember her own name.

Howie had reached her. She had backed away from him until she was up against the fridge and could retreat no further. He ran his fingers down her jawline and put his mouth on hers. He kissed her tenderly and it melted every part of her. She put a hand on his arm and this encouraged him. He ran his tongue along her lips and she began to open her mouth. No! She could not let him in. She could not!

She moved her head sideways away from him. "I don't want you..." She didn't know how to finish the sentence. He thought she had.

He backed away from her. How had he misread the signals? What about the hand holding? What about the dance? He looked at her face and realized that he hadn't misread them at all. She wanted him too.

"Natalie," he said softly. He put his hand on her arm.

"No! I can't," she wailed, pushing past him and moving to her bedroom door.

"Why can't you?" asked Howie. "Is it because of the guy, the married one?"

Natalie turned pained eyes on him. She nodded.

"You're still in love with him," said Howie, matter-of-factly.

"No, no I'm not," said Natalie firmly. "But I'm not over...'it'. I haven't reached the healing stage...the indifference. I'm stuck at angry." She paused for a moment. "I hate men," she finished vehemently.

"So you're going to hate all men forever just because one guy was a prick to you?" This evening was not ending at all the way Howie imagined it would and he was feeling frustrated.

"No, not forever...but for now," she answered slowly.

"You don't hate me," said Howie. "You want me. I want you. Why are you fighting that?"

Natalie didn't answer him.

He never knew where he stood with this woman. Why was he even bothering? "This is stupid," he said, half to himself.

"Don't call me stupid," she screamed at him, and disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

"I didn't..." began Howie and then stopped as the door slammed. I didn't call you 'stupid, thought Howie. I said, this is stupid. Why was that such a hot button for her, he wondered. She was obviously not stupid. Crazy, maybe.

He sighed. This day had been perfect. The dance had been fun, even with the little Backstreet moment. And he had been reasonably certain he would end the evening making sweet, sweet love with Ms. Natalie Reardon. But on the way home, she'd said nothing. He'd made a few little attempts at conversation, but then gave up. So it was not to be, he guessed. He went around the room, straightening cushions and turning off lights, hoping the bedroom door would open or that he would hear crying and he could rush in to comfort her. But there was only silence.

He went to bed and read for a few minutes, but his head wasn't into it, so he set it aside. He tossed and turned and finally fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Howie's eyes opened. Something had wakened him. He blinked his eyes twice to focus them. Natalie was standing beside his bed, silhouetted in the moonlight coming through the doorway. He couldn't see her face.

"Natalie?" he whispered. She didn't respond. "Natalie, are you okay?"

The tiniest whimper came from her. At least, he thought he heard one. He wasn't sure. She put her hand on the bed, plucking at the bedspread. Howie lifted the blankets and she crawled in beside him. She lay on her back with her hands folded over her chest like a corpse. What the...? Howie let the sheet fall on them. He lay on his side with his head resting on his hand watching her. He waited and then slowly and tentatively, he touched her arm. She started to tremble. He moved closer. "Natalie?" She said nothing, but turned on her side away from him and curled up into a ball. He continued stroking her arm gently, whispering calming words. She didn't move or speak, but the trembling lessened and then stopped.

Howie couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep. Hell, he wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep. He didn't even know if she was really there or if he was dreaming. He moved up behind her and kissed her softly on her shoulder. She responded by arching her neck. Moving away or offering more territory? She was wearing a tank top with the thinnest of straps - strings really. He tried to remember what she usually wore for a pyjama top - a t-shirt, he thought.

He kissed her neck and played with the string. He was becoming aroused. He shifted his hips back away from her. She pressed back against him. Okay, what now? He kissed her shoulder and moved the string down her arm. He reached in front of her and ran his fingers along the neckline of her top. Still nothing from her.

He moved his hand down over her breast, cupping it, squeezing it gently. He ran his thumb over her nipple and could feel it harden under the thin fabric. He put his fingers in his mouth and licked them. Then he slid them under her shirt and gently rolled her nipple back and forth in his wet fingers. She turned her face into the pillow and he thought she moaned, but he wasn't sure. He hesitated, stilling his fingers, but leaving them where they were. After a minute, he removed them.

The next move was up to her. I'm not going to touch her again, he decided. Not until she asks me to. He didn't know if she was awake or asleep. He didn't know if she even knew she was there. He wasn't going to take advantage of an unconscious woman, that was for damned sure! Especially one who had informed him so clearly the night before that she didn't want him. He laid his head back on the pillow. Then what the hell was she doing here? Should he wake her up and ask her?

No, I'll just hold her, he decided, spooning his body around hers and willing his erection to subside. I won't make a move. Even though she came to me. Maybe. It doesn't matter, he thought. We'll figure it out in the morning. She was there. That was all that was important. She was there.

She wasn't there. Howie stretched his arm out for Natalie and came up empty. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was alone. He looked at his watch. 6:52. He listened but didn't hear anything. No ticketa, ticketa...

Was that a dream? he wondered. Was she there or wasn't she? What had seemed so real in the night seemed less so in the light of day. Thoughts were whirling through his head. Should he just ask her? Yeah, right! Did you come into my bed last night? Let's see, what possible reactions could she have to that!?

Well, one, she might be angry because maybe it was all just a dream and she will think you are coming on to her or accusing her of something. And you'll look downright desperate. Two, she might not even remember doing it. Three, she might remember it clearly and be insulted that you didn't. Howie sighed. He didn't really see any way around this that didn't end up with her angry at him.

Maybe I could get a look at her laundry, he thought. See if she has a tank top like that. Maybe when she has a shower... He shook his head at himself. He knew one thing for certain. He sure wasn't into songwriting today. Crap! Another day wasted!

He got out of bed and pulled on some sweatpants. He padded silently to the bathroom. Across the room, he could see Natalie's bedroom door...still closed. He came out a minute later. He decided to make tea before his shower and went to the kitchen to plug in the kettle. It was warm to the touch.

A sound made him look up. Huddled on the sofa wrapped in a blanket was Natalie. Her bare toes peeked out of the blanket and rested on the coffee table next to a mug. She was staring out the window, but Howie didn't know if she was actually seeing anything. He made his tea and went over to her. She looked up at him, blinking. There were dark circles under her eyes.

"I didn't call you 'stupid'," said Howie gently.

"Well, I am," she answered in a small voice. She leaned forward and snaked her arm out of the blanket toward her mug. The blanket slipped from her shoulder and Howie saw the tiny string of the tank top.

Okay, he thought, okay. She was real. She was there.

"You're not stupid," he said.

"Well, what would you call it then? Throwing a year of your life away on a married man, not picking up on a thousand clues that gave him away. I'm a mystery writer, for God's sake!" She set down the mug and stood up, clutching the blanket around her. "But stupid is better than the alternative, which is that maybe I did pick up on those clues. Maybe I did figure it out. What does that make me then?"

"Human," said Howie, setting his mug beside hers. "It makes you human."

She dropped the blanket to the floor. She reached out a hand and placed it on his chest. He moved one finger down her neck and across her shoulder. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. Then she opened her eyes. "Heal me," she pleaded.

Howie's mouth covered hers. She opened her mouth and dragged him in. Her hands clutched at his arms and his chest. He tightened his arms around her, holding her close, pinning her arms to his chest. The frantic movements stopped. She moaned into his mouth and their kiss became softer, less desperate.

Howie broke the kiss and moved his lips to her throat, kissing a fiery trail down her neck and along her collarbone. He ran his tongue across her shoulder beside the strap. He reached up with one finger and slid it off her.

"Howie," she breathed into the top of his head. "Let me go."

He was just getting ready to misinterpret this when she added, "I want to touch you."

He relaxed his arms, releasing his grip on her. She moved her fingertips over his chest. He dragged his hand across her stomach, lightly grazing the bare skin in the gap between her pants and top. He picked up her hand and kissed the palm. They looked at each other for a long moment and then both took a step - in opposite directions. They stopped, startled.

Then Howie grinned, "My place or yours?"

"Mine, please," answered Natalie, leading him by the hand into her bedroom. The bed was unmade. The sheets were twisted and tangled and the bedspread was on the floor.

"Another nightmare?" asked Howie.

"Not really," replied Natalie. "Just a strange dream. I don't remember it."

She didn't remember the dream that forced her awake in the middle of the night. But she could vividly recall the anxiety attack that followed - the gasping for breath, the shaking, the overpowering certainty that she was a worthless individual and that she would be alone for the rest of her life.

Her mind began playing tricks on her at that point, convincing her that Howie had had enough of her and had gone away...had left the building, as it were. The nightmare from Thursday rose in front of her like a demon and she found she had to go and check on him.

She had tiptoed into his room and looked at him. He was asleep, of course. She stared at him for a few minutes, willing him to wake up. He did, and when he lifted the blankets, inviting her in, she had moved to him without a thought. Then she had laid there with her eyes closed, afraid of what he might have to say to her. He didn't say anything for a moment and then he whispered her name and touched her arm. She started shaking. She tried to stop herself and she couldn't, so she turned away from him and curled into a ball. He had not rejected her, however, as she feared, but had soothed her, stroking her until the trembling stopped. Comfort and shelter, she thought, snuggling back against him. Comfort and shelter.

What is he supposed to think, Nat? He's going to think you are some kind of tease. Going from 'I hate men' to being in his bed in a few short hours. Either get out of here or grab him! But she did neither. She waited to see what he would do. She wondered if he was even awake. She wondered if she was. She kept still through his kisses and his touching of her breast. When she felt his wet fingers caressing her nipple, she nearly lost it and turned her face into the pillow to stifle the moan. Okay, that's it. The next thing he does, I'm doing it right back to him, she decided. But he didn't do anything else. They lay together like spoons and fell asleep.

She had wakened with the lightening of the sky and crept silently from his bed. She had gone to her room, but only long enough to grab a blanket. She had made herself a cup of tea and sat on the couch, wondering what the hell Howie would think her now and how they would get through the next week together.

Howie smoothed out the sheets and folded them back. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Come here," he said.

Natalie stood between his knees. Howie put his hands on her waist and his lips on her stomach. She groaned and ran her fingers through his hair as his mouth moved up her body under her shirt. Natalie crossed her arms and pulled the top over her head. Howie moved his mouth to her breast. She held his head while he nuzzled her, sucking on her breast, teasing the nipple with his tongue and his teeth, then moving to the other breast to do the same.

Another moan from her made him stop. He looked at her for a moment and then lay back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. She could feel his hardness and she wanted it. She rolled sideways, taking him with her. She moved her hand over him and slipped her fingers down into his sweatpants. She ran her fingers over him, outlining his shape. Then she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed gently.

It was his turn to moan. He turned his attention back to her breasts, using his mouth on one and his hand on the other. Then both mouth and hand moved downward. He kissed and licked her stomach, while his fingers trailed down to the waistband of her pants. He slid his fingers under it and probed between her folds, searching for her center. He manipulated her gently and moved his fingers in and out of her. She responded by pumping him harder.

Natalie was on fire, flames radiating out from her center, where Howie's hand was driving her out of her mind. She wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel all of him. Suddenly, her eyes flew open. Condoms! Shit! "Nooo," she whimpered. Howie looked up at her. His hand became still.

"Condom," she whispered, shaking her head. She didn't have any.

He smiled at her. "In a minute," he said, and went back to stroking her. He brought her to the edge and then he shoved her over. Her body shuddered and she gave a long, low moan. Howie moved back up her body. He kissed her passionately, and then whispered in her ear, "Be right back."

He returned a few seconds later to find that she had moved up onto the pillows and was laying in the middle of the bed with the sheet tucked decorously over her breasts. The pants had joined the tank top on the floor. She lifted the sheet in invitation. Howie added his sweatpants to the pile of clothes and tossed some foil packets on the night table. Then he crawled in beside her.

Natalie reached down with both hands and stroked him. Then she slid her body down the bed and put her mouth on him. Howie gave a strangled gasp. He put his hands on her head, and moved his fingers through her hair, as her wet, hot tongue made circles around the head of his throbbing member and then blazed up and down the shaft. When she started sucking on him, he groaned and pulled her head gently away from him. The need to be in her was too great.

He moved her onto her back and put on the condom. He knelt between her legs and used his hand to move himself over her center, stroking her, and then down to her opening. He inserted himself slowly, never taking his eyes off her face. When he was fully in her, he hesitated for a moment. Her eyes were cloudy with desire.

"Heal me," she whispered, clenching her muscles around him.

So he did, pulling himself almost out of her and then pushing back in - each movement picking up another piece of her broken soul and gluing it back together.

They moved together, slowly at first and then faster and harder until Howie's whole body stiffened and, with a grunt and a shudder, he reached his climax. His hand continued moving over her, bringing her along with him. She arched her back and whimpered as she came and then his hand became still. They hovered together, suspended in time and space, waiting for their panting to stop and their heart rate to slow. Natalie's hands moved first. She trailed them up his back, making lazy patterns with her fingernails. This elicited a soft moan from Howie. He raised his head and kissed her.

"Am I too heavy?" he asked. He was balanced on his forearms.

"Mmm..." she murmured in reply, shaking her head. He kissed her again, softly, sweetly.

They stayed that way for a few minutes and then, with a sigh, he moved out of her. She made a small sound of disappointment.

"I'll be back," he said and disappeared into her bathroom. When he returned, he got back in beside her. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her. He traced his fingers over her face and neck. When he passed over her mouth, she pulled one finger inside and sucked on it, then bit it gently. Howie groaned and slid his hand down her neck to her breast, where he started teasing her nipple.

"Mmmm," breathed Natalie.

"We're going to have to go to town again," said Howie. "I only have two left."

Natalie gave him a sexy smile. "I am never going to get this damn book written," she said.

"Speaking of books," he said. "I read one of yours. The Treasure Trail. You're a good writer."

"Thank you," she murmured, moving her fingernails down his chest and over his stomach, following a whole different sort of treasure trail.

They played with each other's body, stretching their nerves so taut they were ready to snap. Then he moved into her again and she wrapped her legs around him. They rocked each other off the planet and then fell asleep in each other's arms.

Howie woke up first. Which meant that he was the first to be assailed by doubts. Had they done the right thing here? Too late now, it was done, but what came next? Six days of heaven, he hoped, and then goodbye. She lived in New York. He lived in Florida. It would be okay. He sighed.

"It will be okay," said Natalie. He looked over at her. She gave him a gentle smile. "Love me for a week and then leave me. No, no..." she said, as a pained expression crossed his face. "that's what I want."

"Six days of heaven," he murmured.

She nodded, "and then goodbye."

Howie stretched and looked at the clock by the bed. It was nearly noon. "Hungry?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Breakfast or lunch?"

"Breakfast," he said, after a moment. "I feel like eggs."

"Okay," said Natalie, "I'm going to jump in the shower and then I'll cook while you shower."

"Or we could shower together and then cook together," said Howie, raising one eyebrow in a lascivious leer.

"We can only cook together one more time, remember," said Natalie, nodding at the sole remaining condom.

Howie burst out laughing. "Right! How embarrassing is that likely to be?" Everyone knew everyone else's business in a small town. He sure hoped the pharmacist was discreet.

"Go for bold," suggested Natalie. "Buy dozens of them. If they're going to talk about us, we might as well give them something to say."

Howie laughed and ran his finger down her nose. "Good plan. Now, feed me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They showered and had breakfast. They talked about the dance and the people they had met. Natalie told him again what a sweet man he was and he told her again how much he had enjoyed her book.

She grimaced. "Yeah, well, it was that book that brought me Brent."

"Is he...?"

Natalie nodded. "Yes."

"I thought he was a banker."

"He was...is. He arranged for my mortgage for me. On my loft."

"In SoHo," said Howie. Then, "what's a loft?"

Natalie laughed. "It's an apartment, but for some reason, we never say that...we say 'loft'."

"So like a condo?"

"It's actually a five-storey building. The main floor is a jewelry store and then there's two apartments above it...two storeys each. I bought the building."

"Wow!" said Howie, "You must sell a lot of books."

"The Treasure Trail was chosen as an alternate selection in the Book-of-the-Month Club, so I got a bonus from my publisher. I decided it was time to grow up and start investing my money."

"Alternate selection?" mused Howie.

"It doesn't sound like much," said Natalie, "but it's a pretty big deal in Book World."

"Kinda like going to number two on the charts," said Howie.

Natalie laughed. "More like making it into the top twenty."

"So do you rent out the other apartment...I mean, loft?"

"Yes, they're not very big. 'Two-storey apartment' sounds grand, but it's pretty small...couple of bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and then living area below."

They tidied up the dishes and headed into town. Howie brought the subject up again.

"So you got a mortgage and a..." He sorted through a bunch of words before settling on "...lover?"

"Yes, his bank handled all the finances for my publisher and she recommended him to me. He was very charming and very knowledgeable about both the book business and the bank business. He arranged to have the place inspected before I saw the final papers and found an undisclosed flaw that made them reduce the price by several thousand dollars."

She sighed. "And when I told him how wonderful he was and asked how could I ever thank him, he said 'have lunch with me'."

She looked over at Howie. "Not dinner. Lunch. See how smart he was. Dinner would have been highly inappropriate and I would have run like the wind. But lunch was safe...respectable... businesslike. And it was very professional. We talked about books and banking. He didn't suggest coming up to my place or anything. He didn't even suggest getting together again. We talked for three hours and by the end I was completely in love with him." Her eyes went far away for a moment. "We had lunch a couple more times before I moved into the loft. Always business. A paper that needed signing or a clarification. Then he sent me flowers 'from the bank' when I moved in, and when I phoned to thank him, he suggested that he might like to see this place that he had heard so much about...and the rest is history."

Howie parked the car and turned it off. He looked at Natalie. "Dozens, huh?"

She reached across and touched his face. "Scads. Oodles. Scores..."

"And what will you be doing while I am doing this?" he asked.

"I'm going back to the hardware store," said Natalie, "to get oil for the door."

"Care to trade errands?" smiled Howie.

"Not on your life!" retorted Natalie. She ran a hand along his thigh. "Now, get in there! I feel like cooking again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So what were the thousand clues that you missed?" he asked, on the way home. She had said 'heal me' and Howie figured this might be part of the process.

Natalie sighed. "Well," she began, "there's the obvious that I never knew his address or home phone number. He always came to my place. And he would call me during the day sometimes for...I don't know...clever conversation. I had a cell phone number, but he turned that off when he went home. Not that I ever called it...I never needed to...he never left me without having arranged our next outing."

She laughed bitterly. "And that was clue number two. We never went 'out'. Our first few dates were intimate dinners in dark restaurants. After that, he would come to my place. We'd go out to daytime things, like art galleries and markets in my neighborhood. But nothing at night. Nothing public." She looked at Howie. "New York is a very big city, but Manhattan is a very small island."

"Did he live there...in Manhattan, I mean?"

"He had a house in Westchester, where the wife looked after the kids..."

"There were kids?" Somehow that made it worse.

"Two of them," sighed Natalie. "A boy and a girl," she added, for no reason.

"So what did you think...when he wouldn't take you anywhere?"

"Well, I'm not much of a party girl and you know how I like to dance!! He managed to make me think that it was mostly my idea that we not go out. And when he was faced up with it, he always had a good excuse, like he was tired from work, or he didn't want to spend time with people because he did that all day...or, my own personal favorite...he just wanted to be with me."

Howie was having trouble getting his head around it. He tried looking at it from the guy's point of view. Just the logistics of it made his mind boggle. "So...I'm looking to cheat on my wife..." he said with a question in his voice.

"...and you want to know how," said Natalie. Howie nodded. "Well, first you do it a few times, so you get really good at it," she said bitterly. "Oh yeah, I was not the first..."

"Then you hammer home the mantra of how hard you work, how unavailable you will be at certain times. Throw in a few fictitious out-of-town clients and some aging parents to explain weekends. Sell the clients to your wife as well."

Natalie started ticking off points on her fingers. "Never call her by her name. Always call her Honey. The wife too. Then you're never going to be caught out at a bad moment. Never let anyone take a picture of the two of you." She smiled over at Howie. "That one might be hard for you."

He smiled, but there was no laughter in his eyes. The hurt was pouring out of her...and into him. The calmer her voice was, the more he had trouble seeing the road.

"When you start bringing stuff to her place, buy it all brand-new. And always change back into your original clothes before you leave."

"That didn't make you suspicious?" Howie thought even he would see through that.

"He just put a 'business appointment' on either end of our time together and showed up in a suit. I know it sounds like I should have known, but, like I said, I was in love."

"So what happened?"

"Carol Sweeney happened. She was my roommate from college. She had been living in France for a couple of years, and as it happened, having an affair with a married man. Oh, she knew he was married. She preferred it that way. Anyway, we met for lunch and I was waxing poetic on the subject of Brent and she got suspicious. She asked me a few pointed questions." Natalie paused. "I was very resentful, rude even. I didn't want to believe it."

"Of course, you didn't," said Howie, half to himself. Who would? he wondered.

"So Carol got the proof. It really wasn't hard once you went looking for it. She asked me if I wanted to know. She said it didn't make any difference to her if I had an affair with a married man, but maybe it made a difference to me. I said I wanted to know, so she told me."

Howie looked over at Natalie. She was staring straight ahead. He could see tears brimming.

"It hurt a lot," she said, and then was quiet for the rest of the drive.

"Living on Haagen-Dazs..." said Howie.

They were in bed together at the end of their first day of heaven. They had made sweet, delicious love and were laying together, their bodies entwined, letting the air dry the sweat on their skin.

Natalie raised her head off Howie's chest. "Pardon?" she said, and then put her head back down and began teasing his nipple with her teeth, while running her fingernails lightly down his chest and across his stomach. She was content...more content than she could ever remember being. Howie had purged all the poisons from her system. He had made love to her and then he had listened to her. And then he had made love to her again, showing her that she wasn't a bad person after all.

When they had come back from town, Howie had taken the boxes of condoms into her bedroom and put them in the drawer of the night table. She had laughed when she saw how many there were.

"Is anyone else in Sweet Grass County going to be able to practice safe sex?" Natalie asked.

"Don't care," Howie replied, pulling her into his arms and kissing her.

"Get to work," she chided, gently shoving him away. She oiled the door and then went for a walk. He was concerned. Would she be all right? She knew he was referring to her revelations about Brent and her drift into melancholy at the end.

"I'm fine," she told him. "More than fine, thanks to you." More kissing ensued and then she headed off. She returned with a head full of ideas. She took her computer out to the back patio and typed until the Low Battery warning came on. She eased quietly back into the house and plugged it in. She paced up and down willing it to charge faster.

"Keep going," said Howie.

She looked over at him. "But..."

Howie set down the guitar. "I'm done for the moment," he said. He wasn't, but he could see her need. Her fingers were typing on the side of her leg as she paced and the ideas were spinning around her eyes like a cloud of mayflies.

She moved to protest again, but he held up a hand. "Go," he said.

And she did. Ticketa, ticketa indeed! Her hands flew over the keyboard. Howie watched her for a moment and then gathered up his papers as quietly as he could and took them and his guitar for a walk. He sat under a tree on a hill near the house and plucked out melodies. There was too much of a breeze to have his papers out and eventually, he gave that up in frustration and just played and sang.

When he went back to the cabin an hour later, Natalie's fingers were still flying. Suddenly, she stopped. She pushed back her chair and stood up. Three or four clicks shut the computer down and she walked to the other side of the room. "Now we wait and see," she said.

Howie looked from her to the computer and back again. What was she expecting it to do? She laughed at the look on his face. 'I just leave it now," she explained, "and then go back to it later...when I print it out. Sometimes it's garbage and sometimes it's brilliant." She laughed. "And sometimes it's not even the same story."

He nodded. He got that. Sometimes he would go back to a song, especially one he'd worked on late at night. He would find that the sure million-seller of the night before was now just a typical pop song with nothing special to offer to the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Haagen-Dazs, You said before that you had to spend time in your robe and slippers living on Haagen-Dazs."

Natalie laughed. "It's the female equivalent of the stages of grief."

Howie thought about that. "Denial, anger..."

"Yeah," said Natalie, "but in relationship grief, ice cream is one of the stages. Straight out of the carton, of course!" She raised up on one elbow. "Men don't do this?" she asked, laughing.

Howie shook his head. "I don't think so. Maybe they get drunk."

Natalie gave that some thought. "Maybe Budweiser is the male equivalent of Ben & Jerry's."

Howie laughed and ruffled her hair. He kissed her softly. Then he moved his head away. He looked at her thoughtfully. "Do you know," he said, "that you are the only woman in this county with short hair?"

Natalie grinned at him. They both pictured the locks and tresses from the dance. "Cleansing haircut," she said finally.

"What?"

"I used to have longer hair...nothing close to Montana standards, but it was longer." She put a hand just below her shoulder, indicating the previous length.

"And you cut it when..."

She nodded. "He really liked my hair long. It had only got to be that long because he discouraged me from cutting it." She shrugged. "So when I cut him out of my life..."

"...the hair went with him," finished Howie.

Natalie shrugged again. "Men don't get haircuts either, I guess. Okay, scissors and ice cream, two things women do."

"Wait here," said Howie, getting out of bed. He returned a minute later carrying a yellow ruled pad and a pen. He piled the pillows up and leaned back against them.

"Tell me more," he said and scribbled down the things she had already said.

Natalie looked at him. Did he really want to hear this?

"If you can..." said Howie.

Natalie dragged her fingernails down his chest, making him give out a little squeal. Then she sat up beside him and tugged one of his pillows away from him. She leaned back and began to talk.

"Well, first you can't believe it's happening - there must be some mistake, it will all get straightened out," she said. "And then, it doesn't, of course, and you have to decide." She looked at him. "I told you he wanted to marry me. At least, that's what he said, so I had all the pleading, cajoling crap coming from him at the same time I was trying to hate him."

Howie wrote, "trying to hate him" on the paper.

"Because you have to hate him and then get over that and get to indifference - that's the opposite of love - not hate, but indifference."

"Are you there yet?" asked Howie. He drew a triangle on the paper and wrote 'love', 'hate' and 'indifference' at each of the points.

Natalie smiled. "I am now, thanks to a very sweet man."

He leaned over and kissed her. Then he sat back and tapped the paper with the pen. "Okay, how do you turn love into hate?"

Natalie thought for a moment. "Well, in the denial stage, you go over all your memories, the things you did together, etc, because really, this couldn't be happening now, could it, if it was all so good in the past?"

Howie nodded. Go on.

"Then you start to get rid of them, the memories I mean...you find something wrong with it...like a picnic that was idyllic and now you remember the ants...or a nice dinner out together, but now you remember that the food wasn't that great and he'd picked the place and you hadn't really felt like Italian that night..."

Howie's hand sped across the paper. He got slowed down by his attempt to spell 'idyllic' and after three tries, he wrote 'happy' instead and kept going.

"In the end, though, when you're over it, the memories revert to being good again...but real."

"But before that, what kinds of things do women do?"

"Well, you could tear up all his pictures..."

Howie wrote it down.

"Throw out all the food that was only there because he liked it..." Then she added, "Specialty mustards were Brent's thing."

Howie nodded.

"If he left any clothes at your place, you could give them to charity or cut them up or burn them."

Howie's eyes widened.

"Charity," she answered his unspoken question.

"Anything else?"

Natalie shrugged. "I guess you could clean all the silver with his toothbrush and then send it back to him.

Howie raised an eyebrow.

"I don't have any silver," she answered laughing. "But I know women who have done worse things..." And she proceeded to shock Howie to the core with stories of vindictiveness.

Howie looked down at the paper. "So," he said thoughtfully, "first you turn it on yourself by wallowing in ice cream, and then you turn it onto him."

"You're a very astute man, Howie Dorough," said Natalie, slipping her hands down under the covers. "And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to turn it on you."

The pen and the yellow pad slid to the floor.

Natalie opened her eyes. It was Wednesday, no...Thursday. She was losing track. How many more days of heaven did they have? He was leaving Sunday morning. That was going to be hard, she knew, saying goodbye. The actual moment, not the process. She knew she would be fine with that and so would he. But the actual moment of farewell...she just hoped she didn't cry. She wasn't good at things like that.

She slipped from under the covers, trying not to wake him. She grabbed her robe from the armchair and tiptoed to the door. She eased it shut behind her and headed for the bathroom. She stood under the shower and thought about the last few days. It was amazing that either of them got any work done, but incredibly they did.

She smiled to herself as she thought of the look on Howie's face when she had come in from the patio the day before. She had been going over some pages with the dreaded highlighter.

"I wrote a song," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"Well, I should hope so. That's what you're here for."

"No, I mean I wrote a new one...today...a whole song."

"Wow! That's great! Is it in English or Spanish?"

"It's in English, but it's not for my CD."

Natalie piled the papers beside her computer. "What's it for, then?"

"I'll sell this one...to a country singer...a woman."

"You wrote a country song? For a woman?"

Howie laughed. "I know. It's strange. Maybe it's the surroundings. Will you listen to it?"

"Of course," she answered. Listening to him sing had become the best part of her day...well, the second best part.

She sat across from him and watched while he strummed a chord and tuned a string. She remembered how irritated that made her in the beginning, that it seemed to take him so long to get started, but now she just saw it as an opportunity to study his beautiful hands.

"Okay, picture me as Faith Hill," he said, laughing.

Natalie scrunched up her nose and closed her eyes. Then she opened them, one at a time. Nope, couldn't picture that.

Howie grinned at her and picked out the opening notes. "It's a cheatin', hurtin' song," he said, with a nasal twang. He began to sing.

He sang about how much it hurt when someone left you, but that you could get over it.

"I tore up all your pictures
And I flushed them down the john.
I gave your clothes to Goodwill.
Your favorite shirt is gone"

He sang about ice cream and slippers and moving on with your lifeand moving past the one who hurt you.

"And now she's thrown you over
And you're heading back this way
You're sorry and you'll do better
Here's all I've got to say..."

Howie flashed her a grin. She smiled back. Something was coming.

"I'd get change for a nickel
If I paid you what you're worth
And I wouldn't take you back
If you were the last man on Earth."

Natalie burst out laughing.

"Noooooooooooo..." continued Howie, dragging out the note, "I wouldn't take you back...sing it with me now..."

Natalie joined in. "...if you were the last man on Earth."

They stared at each other for a moment and then they laughed.

"It's wonderful," said Natalie. "What a concept!" What a gift, is what she was thinking. What a beautiful, precious gift! She didn't care if he sold it or if it never got played again. He had written it for her. She took his guitar and set it carefully aside. Then she straddled his lap and took his head in her hands. She kissed his forehead and his eyelids and his cheekbones. Then their hands got busy and they left a trail of clothes from the sofa to the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Friday now. Natalie whisked some eggs together. She was going to make an omelet when Howie got up. She surveyed the contents of the refrigerator. They were getting low on a few things, but she figured they had enough to last them to Sunday. She could go to town and shop on Monday, after he was gone.

After he was gone. A queasy tickle ran through her stomach. She would miss him, she knew that. But she would be okay. He had made sure of that. He had healed her. Well, he had helped her heal herself. Even better.

They hadn't gone to town since their condom foray six days ago. She wondered what the good citizens of Big Timber, Montana would think when she showed up on Monday for groceries with a big ol' grin plastered on her face.

She took the notepad from the basket and started making a list. She added 'book to library'. She must remember to return Howie's book. After he was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You can't put that."

"Pardon?" Natalie looked up from her pages. Howie was standing at her story board. It was Friday afternoon.

"You can't put that. That the schoolteacher is from Boston."

"Why not?" asked Natalie.

"Because you said before that she had a Midwest accent." He turned to look at her. She was staring at him, open-mouthed. "There's no way anyone from Boston would sound like they were from the Midwest. And no one would ever confuse them..." His voice tapered off.

"Where? What?"

"In chapter ten or eleven...when the teacher is at the restaurant and the waitress comes over. You say that the waitress hears the voice before she sees the customer and it's a Midwest accent."

Natalie rose to her feet. Howie bit his lip. "I've been reading it," he confessed sheepishly. "Whenever you go for a walk or a nap, the first thing I do is read your new pages." He smiled. "It's good. I really like it." He had to stop talking for a while until she released his mouth, and then he said, "but the schoolteacher can't be from Boston."

"Okay," said Natalie, undoing his shirt buttons.

And much later, they had a long discussion about her book and his music and the creative process and all the important things in their life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now it was Sunday.

Howie was folding his clothes and packing them neatly in his suitcase.

"Don't forget these," said Natalie. Howie turned to see her holding a stack of socks and boxers. "From the dryer," she said.

He took them from her without a word and turned back to his task. He felt her leave the room. Man, this had truly been six days of heaven. He just hoped it wasn't going to be a few minutes of hell at the end. Not for her, she could handle it, he knew. But he was a sentimental sort, and he hoped he didn't cry.

He thought about the walks they had taken, and the conversations they'd had. He thought about her words and his music and their sweet, sweet passion for each other. He smiled as he thought about her reaction when he made her write down the word 'idyllic' for him. He knew that once he'd seen it, he'd know how to spell it forever. And it was a word he thought he needed to describe his time with her.

He thought about what she'd said about memories turning good and bad. The two days they had spent cabin-bound in the rain even looked good to him now. They had laughed about that last night and this morning, he had found her highlighter sitting beside his mug of tea. It had a ribbon tied around it and a neat, little bow.

"To remember me by," she said with a smile.

"But don't you need this?" he asked, more touched than he should have been.

"I have more," she said, laughing.

He looked at his watch. It was time to go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natalie paced the floor in the living room. Get a grip, get a grip, she told herself. Get that smile on. He's going to come out of that room and you are going to say goodbye with a smile. You can do it. He can do it and you can do it. Nothing, nothing, nothing could be allowed to wreck what they had had. It had been... She smiled to herself. It had been idyllic.

Making love. Oh, that had been so special. They had gone through a lot of condoms! But the best part was afterward, laying together, sated and content, basking in each other's glow...Okay, maybe you want to think about something else, Nat!

She thought about their dinner the night before. They made it together, of course. They worked amazingly well in the kitchen together. And after they'd eaten and done the dishes, Howie had put on some music and they had danced. They had floated together for a long time and then she kissed his neck and then he kissed hers and then... Okay, we're back to that.

She tried to think of something that they had done this week that wouldn't bring her thoughts back to that, but she couldn't. It was all intertwined in her head - their work, their play, their passion. Six days of heaven. And now goodbye. It was time for him to go.

Howie came out of his bedroom, already talking, filling up the air with words. "...flight leaves at eleven, hope the weather's good..."

He went out the front door with his suitcase. His briefcase and guitar were already standing by the door. Natalie stepped out onto the porch and watched him put the suitcase in the car. He came back and moved past her to get the other things. She wanted to touch him, but she folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the post. He slammed the trunk and opened the door to the car. Neither would survive a kiss. Thank God they both knew it.

"So..." he began.

"So..." she answered.

He took a deep breath and looked around. "Nice day. Maybe you can get out a bit later."

"Maybe. I'm thinking of going to town for ice cream."

His eyes widened. Oh no! Then he saw the corners of her mouth turn up. She shook her head. She would be okay. He nodded at her and got into the car. She lifted one hand and waggled her fingers at him. He waved back and put the car in gear. He turned it around and drove down the driveway. As he disappeared into the trees, he looked into the rearview mirror. She was still standing at the post, arms folded, smiling, watching him drive off.

Howie shook his head and moved his jaw back and forth in exaggerated mouth movements. It took him all the way to the end of the road before he knew he wasn't going to cry. He turned onto the county road and headed for Butte.

Natalie stood on the porch until the car disappeared from sight. Then she stood there a while longer listening to the sound of the engine fade away. She heard him turn out onto the main road and she turned to go back into the cabin. No, not yet. Not for a little while yet. She sat down on the wicker settee and pulled her knees up to her chin. She hugged her legs and stared into the distance.

She had two weeks of peace and quiet now to finish her book. It wouldn't take that long. She was almost there. She had to decide whether or not to start a new one when she was done or to head back to New York - cut her cabin sojourn short and get back to the Big City. She looked over her shoulder at the cabin. I guess it depends on how much of him is left behind, she thought. If the cabin got too lonely, she would just bail and head for the airport. Or if it started to rain, she thought, and then laughed. Yes, if it started to rain, she was definitely getting out of here.

She stood up with a sigh and went into the cabin. Everything was neat and tidy. She had tried hard not to be a slob after their fight. Especially after he had moved into her room. There wasn't anything romantic about yesterday's underwear laying on the floor! He had kept all his clothes in his room and changed there, but they had slept in her room. Slept and... Don't go there yet, she told herself, looking at the bedroom door and sighing again.

Okay, you can stand in the middle of the room for the next two weeks, or you can get on with things. Make a plan. Make a list or something. Have a cup of tea.

A cup of tea. Yes, that was the place to start. She hadn't been able to swallow hers that morning. Howie had declined her offer of breakfast, said he'd get something on the plane or at the airport. He wasn't really hungry. She understood that perfectly. She wouldn't have been able to keep food down. So, a cup of tea.

A cup of tea and then go to town. Get some groceries.

No, maybe not. Her emotions were still pretty close to the surface. What if she ran into someone and they asked about Howie and she lost it? Not a good plan. Got to get some of that emotion drained first. Before she went to town.

So then, maybe a good cry. Why not? It wouldn't harm the relationship at this point. The relationship was over. So a good, cleansing cry, get it all out of her system...yes, that was it...a cup of tea, a good cry and then go to town.

Well, maybe not go to town just yet. Her face might be all blotchy and red from crying. She wouldn't want any concerned questions. So then maybe a nap. Have a nice cup of tea, cry your eyes out, have a nap and then wake up refreshed and go to town. It was a good plan.

Of course, it was Sunday.

The library wouldn't be open and she did have Howie's book to return. So maybe she should wait and go to town tomorrow. She opened the fridge. Yes, she had enough groceries here. There was a steak and some leftover chicken...some beans...a potato...a couple of carrots. She closed the fridge door.

Okay, so a cup of tea, a good cry, a nap and then...Oh, for God's sakes, Natalie, plug in the friggin' kettle.

Her hands were shaking as she held the spout under the tap. She plugged the kettle in and then she paced, waiting for it to boil. She straightened the cushions on the couch and moved the armchair a quarter of an inch.

"Come on, boil," she said to the kettle. She moved the shopping list and Howie's book from the left side of the counter to the middle. She picked up the pencil, but couldn't think of anything to write so she put it back down.

"Boil," she said to the kettle. She went over to her computer and checked how much paper was in the printer. But she didn't turn either of them on.

"Boil," she said to the kettle. Stupid kettle. She'd made a list; she was ready to get on with her life. And it all started with a cup of tea. And she couldn't make a cup of tea until the kettle boiled. She couldn't get on with her life until the kettle boiled. She couldn't get over him until the stupid, friggin' kettle boiled!!

She threw her hands up over her mouth to stifle the sob.

Okay, if the kettle wasn't more co-operative, there was going to be a change in the schedule. The crying was definitely going to come first. She got out a mug and a spoon and the tea. Any second now. Come on. Little tendrils of steam were starting to rise from the spout.

She was concentrating so hard on the kettle, that she didn't hear the car. She heard the knock on the door, though. She looked toward it, and then took a step in that direction. But the whistling of the kettle called her back.

"It's open," she called out, as she unplugged the vicious, unfeeling appliance. She turned to pour the water into her mug and then she set the kettle down very, very carefully.

"I'm the new tenant," said the man standing in the doorway.

Natalie edged around the counter.

"I've rented this place for the next two weeks," he said.

Natalie took a step toward him.

"Isn't this Hawk's Nest?" he asked.

She nodded and then finally was close enough to touch him. She put one finger on his arm.

"I lied," Howie whispered.

"Me too," she murmured.

"I love you," he said.

"Me too."

"Can we have two more weeks?"

She nodded. "Yes, please."

"Can we have forever?"

She nodded again and fell into his arms.

He held her tight and kissed her passionately. When he released her mouth, he whispered into her hair. "Love me."

She moved her face away from his and stared into his eyes. "Like you were the last man on Earth."