Winter Jacket: Finding Home Read Online Free PDF Page A

body.
    I paused when I heard the whistle. I reluctantly pulled myself away from Hunter’s addictive mouth and looked past her head to see a group of hikers, about four or five of them, standing at a distance and collectively giving us two thumbs up.
    “We have an audience,” I groaned under my breath. We were in the middle of nowhere and we’d still managed to attract a crowd. “I think we’d better invest in some curtains.”
    “And a fence,” she added.
     
     
    Our rental cabin was modest in square footage, but it was more than enough room for the two of us, with a generous loft upstairs populated with overstuffed furniture and a ping-pong table. On the ground level were an open concept kitchen, a dining room table with four chairs, and a living room complete with a potbelly woodstove. The first floor was also equipped with two bedrooms, one which I assumed was the master because the double bed faced a walk-out deck. 
    Hunter flopped down on the bed in the master bedroom, and it made a terrible groan. “I guess this means no acrobatic sex,” she laughed.
    I sat down on the edge of the bed and held my breath as I sank deeply into its uneven box spring mattress. “Not unless we want this thing to break.” I gave a few experimental bounces, and the springs shrieked and groaned in response. “But there’s plenty of other surfaces in the other rooms,” I grinned.
    Her clear blue eyes sparkled. “You know I love a good challenge.” Her voice was rich with warm, honey tones.
    She hopped up from the bed before I could vocalize my own challenge. “I need to lay down for a bit,” she announced. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She unfastened the button of her jeans and pulled the zipper low enough that I could see a hint of the red lace underwear that hid underneath her pants.
    “That’s not fair,” I groaned.
    She looked to me, eyes round with confusion.
    “You can’t parade around here looking so edible,” I clarified.
    The confusion softened on her face, and she gave me a knowing grin. “It’s almost like I’m doing it on purpose.” 
    While I contemplated the knotty pine ceiling of the lofted cabin, Hunter napped beside me. Her hand had snaked its way under the waistband of my pajama pants, and her fingers were curled around the top of my underwear. Her warm fingers rested against my hipbone. It was an innocent gesture, and I tried not to think about how good it would feel if her hand just happened to shift and touch me in a more intimate place. It took all of my willpower not to roll my hips or wiggle in such a way that would relocate her hand.
    I hadn’t been in too many relationships much longer than the one I currently enjoyed. This was the sweet spot of the relationship. I never understood those love songs that promised the listener that it would feel like “the first time.” My first time had been awkward and uncomfortable. Familiarity was what I craved—when you no longer felt self-conscious being naked in front of your lover—when you no longer stressed about if she liked the way you touched her, or if it was too much, or not enough, or just plain not good at all. The honeymoon phase might have been over, but that didn’t mean I still didn’t get butterflies when she did something adorable or that my body temperature didn’t spike when I admired the gentle swell of her backside in a pair of skinny jeans.
    After Hunter’s nap, we found a small convenience store on a county highway and bought enough groceries to last the few days we’d be staying at the cabin. That night I cooked dinner on the gas grill outside—chicken breasts smothered in a spicy BBQ sauce and steamed vegetables in an aluminum pouch.
    Long after the sun had set behind Mount Meeker in the distance, Hunter and I sat outside on a wool blanket and stared up at the complex swirls of distant galaxies sprayed across the inky black sky. I didn’t take the view or my girlfriend’s hand in mine for granted. Like