If I hear about that fuckin’ thing one more fuckin’ time, I’m gonna shoot myself.” He’d dropped his hands but threw one out. “Jesus, fuck,” he interrupted me in exasperation and lifted up his hands to do air quotation marks. I wrote out that business plan, you read it, and-” “Folks can get along without microwaves,” he retorted. “Three of them don’t work,” I reminded him. I wouldn’t even pop popcorn in one of them. The ones that were working (and in the eleven cabins we owned, only eight microwaves were working) were old, crusty, and gross. I stared at him again since he knew they did.

“Those units don’t need new microwaves, Cassidy.” “Since I’m buying so many, I’m getting a screaming deal on those microwaves, Grant,” I informed him of something I’d already informed him of. Made a statement-this time a grand one-that he believed I could do anything.Įven take on a bunch of ramshackle cabins, the even more ramshackle house that went with them, and make them “thrive.” “You can pay me back when you make those cabins thrive.”

With Dad giving me twenty thousand dollars besides. That didn’t mean Mom and Dad didn’t give us their blessings. Only twenty-four years old (though, Grant was twenty-six). Doing it practically just out of college. She was silently terrified that I was sinking my savings, something I’d been carefully hoarding since I was thirteen, into a broken down bunch of cabins in the middle of nowhere in the Rocky Mountains. He tried to hide it from me but he didn’t quite succeed. We were young and being young, embarking on such a huge-scale adventure, possibly stupid. I had found the cabins for sale on the Internet and talked Grant into coming with me, fixing them up, caring for them and the patrons who’d use them to have their time by a river in the middle of rock, pine, aspen, columbine, fireweed, wild iris, and glacier lily. The feeling of being precisely where I was meant to be, in the mountains, living a quiet life constantly in the midst of sheer beauty.Īnd, of course, living that dream with the addition of a lot of snowboarding. The dream of having every day what I felt the minute I hit the Rockies. The dream I nurtured every time they gave in when I begged them to take us back. The dream that was born when I was thirteen and Mom and Dad took us on a skiing trip. I stared at my boyfriend, the love of my life, the man who gave up home in Oklahoma six weeks ago to follow me to Colorado to live my dream.

Deacon by kristen ashley