Homesick

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

“O kay, so here’s all you need to know about waitressing at the inn. The more the customer drinks, the more they’ll tip at the end of the night,” Sheila explains with a smile.

After a few days of working at the Rustic Inn, I realized working at a bar is a lot harder than they make it look in Coyote Ugly and I didn’t get to hose down the customers if they asked for water. That part was a real bummer.

So far, I’ve broken two glasses and one bottle of tequila. Long story short, I will never try to flip a bottle of alcohol again.

I came in during the day while it was slow, and Sheila would walk me through everything and shadow me when she wasn’t busy. I was thankful for the opportunity to get out of the house and get my mind off my job hunt for a while. I also needed to get my mind off other things which was hard when I work with said thing’s mom now.

“That seems simple enough,” I smile back.

For a second, I step back and look at Sheila in the dim light of the bar. A frown begins to weigh down my face when I notice the dark bags under her eyes. I quickly take a page from Sheila’s book and replace my frown with a smile when she makes eye contact with me.

“Well, I have to take care of some things in the back. Can you clean up a little and just holler if any customers come in.” The bar is usually dead earlier in the day, but things pick up closer to dinner time.

I quickly wipe down the bar and make sure everything is stocked for later. My eye catches on a sign above the bar with a very outdated Facebook logo and bright capital letters that read, Follow Us on Facebook!

I take a break from cleaning and pull out my phone. I easily find the Rustic Inn’s Facebook page and cringe at the unflattering picture of the outside of the bar proudly displayed as the cover photo. I scroll down and see the page has 3.2k followers, which is pretty good for our little town. The last post was made over a year ago with a status announcing their specials for the week with a lot of typos.

I switch over to Instagram and see they don’t have a page, which isn’t surprising. They’re basically missing out on free advertising , I think to myself. Back in Cleveland, I was always checking out bars’ social media pages for things like events and specials. I’m sure they would get a lot more business from neighboring towns and further if they were on social. Tourists loved these little hole-in-the-wall places.

I hear the door ding, alerting me to a customer walking in the building. I shove my phone back in my pocket and put on my best customer service smile. Unfortunately, it’s wasted on Blake. My smile instantly drops, but then I remember my brother asked me to be civil.

“Hi, Blake. How are you?”

He gives me a suspicious glare and replies, “no dirty look? No smart remarks? Geez Wren, I know my mom is your boss now, but I promise I won’t tell on you.”

He slides up on one of the bar stools and makes himself at home.

“I was told I had to play nice,” I say dryly. Blake’s eyes light up and I know my manners will only last so long around him.

“I like you much better when you’re mean to me. I love seeing that little vein pop out on your forehead when I get you all worked up,” he says smugly, leaning into the counter as he talks.

Is he flirting with me? Fuck that. “Okay, first?—”

I’m abruptly cut off by Sheila’s voice ringing throughout the room. “Blake! Hey, hunny. I thought I heard your voice.”

She looks between the two of us and I think she can sense the tension in the air. She walks around the bar and gives Blake a hug. My heart melts for a moment. Seeing them in the same room brings up memories of how close they’ve always been.

For a split second, I see Blake’s eyes wash over his mom and there’s worry in them, but it’s quickly replaced when his eyes land on mine again.

“You’re not bothering poor Wren, are you? She has full permission to kick you out,” she says and shoots a wink my way.

Blake’s demeanor changes and if I wasn’t so irritated with his presence, I might find it cute how nervous he looks. He’s always been a momma’s boy to his core. If he thought Sheila was disappointed in him, he’d fall apart instantly. I wonder what she said when you broke my heart , I think to myself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother. I was simply telling her how you won’t shut about up how amazing she is since you both started working together.”

I roll my eyes at the blatant lie, but keep my mouth shut. It would be fun to see her yell at him, though.

“That sounds more like my boy,” she says, patting him on the back.

“Well, this has been fun, but I’ve got to get to work. Here’s your house key you forgot this morning.”

“Thanks, hun. Are you going to be home for dinner tonight?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve had to work late the last few days. I’ll let you know later,” he says giving his mom another hug.

I can’t help but notice he holds her a little longer and squeezes her a little tighter than he did before her cancer diagnosis. I see the sweet Blake I grew up with shine through the surface, but it’s quickly dimmed when he pulls away.

He turns to walk away and gives me one last smug look before heading toward the door. I will myself not to stare at his ass, but unfortunately, I can only be so strong.

I look up and of course Sheila catches me, but thankfully doesn’t acknowledge it. I quickly change the subject and say, “hey Sheila. Who’s in charge of the Rustic Inn’s social media?”

* * *

The day goes by fast and before I know it, I’m already on my way home. After Blake left this afternoon, I got the grand idea to volunteer myself to take over the Rustic Inn’s social media channels. Even though I’m technically employed as a waitress, I have the itch to do something a bit more creative.

My goal at my old marketing research job was always to transition into a more content-driven role, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. For now, I’m going to set my sights on improving the Rustic Inn’s social presence and hopefully use my knowledge for good.

I reach my driveway before too long, but I get stuck behind the tractor my dad is currently using to haul an empty hay wagon. Oh shit , I think to myself. Haying was one chore I absolutely dreaded in the summer. Hay season at the Campbell farm was all-hands-on-deck and any free time I had was spent riding on that old wagon, trying not to push my brother off the moving platform.

I debate throwing my car into reverse, but he’s already seen me. He pulls off to the side of the driveway and lets me pull up next to him.

He opens the little side door and hops down onto the gravel. I grimace when he hits the ground and I hear the crunching noise under his boots. A few years ago, he took a really bad fall, and I haven’t seen him as the same since. He used to be this strong and solid force in my life, but now he just looks so fragile. It was hard watching your parents get old.

“Hey, kid. How was work?”

“Good! It feels nice to have a job after all these months”

“That’s great. I’m glad you were able to get back on your feet.”

He looks down the driveway and I can see my brother stomping toward us. He’s always been very heavy footed, which didn’t help when he was trying to sneak out. I always laughed when Dad gave him a hard time at breakfast the next morning.

“Hey, Wren! You’re home just in time.”

I roll my eyes at him like it’s my second nature.

“You don’t have to do hay, sweetheart. I know you just got off work. Your brother and I can handle it.” He smiles at me reassuringly.

“Yeah, it’s probably for the best. She’ll just slow us down.”

I throw daggers his way. I’m not taking the bait , I think to myself.

“Hell, I doubt you can even pick up a bale of hay with those scrawny little arms. Don’t want you getting hurt out there,” he taunts. I’m not taking the bait .

“I bet you . . .”

“Enough! Give me ten minutes to get changed.”

* * *

I should’ve shut my mouth and played the weak, helpless girl card. My legs wobble a little as I steady myself on the back of the hay wagon. We’ve only done a few rows and I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know a lady could sweat.

A bead of sweat drops down my face as my dad gets ready to head down a new row. I inch my way toward the front of the wagon to start pulling the square bales off the baler, but we stop all of a sudden. I almost fall right off the side but catch myself just in time. I look up to see why we’re stopped and feel a whole new wave of heat brush over me.

Blake’s truck is parked on the side of the field where he waves my dad down.

“Oh nice! I didn’t think he’d get off in time,” I hear my brother say from behind me.

I throw my head back dramatically to the sky and think, dear god, why me? I take a deep breath through my brief diva moment and hop down from the wagon to grab my water out of the tractor. “What is he doing here?” I ask my brother.

“Please be nice. He’s going to help so Dad can take a break.”

“You just want to drive the tractor, asshole,” I grumble and narrow my eyes at him. He’s a genius, but I would never admit that. Granted, I did know how to drive the tractor and I could’ve totally taken Dad’s place. However, they’ve never trusted me behind the wheel after I about ran over the neighbor’s dog and maybe the neighbor’s kid, too.

I direct my attention back to my real issue with this whole situation. The man is wearing a pair of tight Wranglers and an old t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Any other guy, I wouldn’t even give a second glance, but damn, it was like those jeans were made for him.

With every movement, my eyes snap to a different body part. There is no denying that he’s a good looking guy. Thank God my face is already red because I can feel a blush creeping up my neck.

I splash some of the cold water on my face and will my hormones to calm down. It’s like I’m a kid again, just learning what that tingle deep within me really means.

He finally reaches us, and Chris doesn’t waste any time. “Okay, I’m going to take over for Dad and Blake is going to take over for me.”

Chris pauses before heading to the cab of the tractor. “Please don’t push him off the wagon, Wren.”

I scoff at the accusation and turn around to follow Blake back onto the wagon. He hoists himself up effortlessly and like the asshole he is, he turns around and offers his hand to me.

His very strong and calloused hand . . . I snap out of my daze and reject his hand as I push myself up onto the platform.

He laughs a little and just shakes his head. “Still stubborn as ever I see.”

* * *

“Ugh,” I wince before plopping down on the soft, plush grass. “I did not miss this,” I confess. We just finished putting the hay into one of the lofts and I’m exhausted. All I want to do is take a cold shower and rot in my bed for the rest of the night.

Chris kicks my boot and says, “just as I predicted. Still soft.”

“A thank you would be nice, ya know,” I grunt before propping myself up on my elbows.

“Thank you so much, sis. What would we do without you?” he says sarcastically.

Chris starts walking toward the barn and yells out, “I’m heading home for the night before I get in trouble for missing dinner again. Blake’s finishing up in the hay loft. Can you see if he needs any help?”

Great . I push myself off the ground and head toward the barn. I’m about to head up to the loft as I see denim-clad legs already coming down the ladder. “I’m all finished up already.”

“Uhh okay. Well . . . thanks for your help,” I say, practically having to choke it out. “Chris is already on his way home.”

There’s an awkward pause as we study each other in the dusty, dim light of the barn. It’s still daylight, but the sun is slowly drooping its head.

“Let’s go for a dip in the pond out back,” Blake says before he turns and heads out of the barn. Wait, what?

I stand in place for a moment and think back to all the times we would jump in the pond after a long day of chores. It was a key memory of my childhood and unfortunately, Blake will always be a part of that.

He pokes his head around the corner and says, “are you coming?” He must notice the confused expression so clearly stuck on my face because he continues, “come on, Wren. It’s tradition.”

This is probably a bad idea.

I follow him hesitantly to the pond behind the big barn. It’s still as murky as I remember and if I hadn’t swallowed so much of that water as a kid, I’d probably think it was toxic.

Lost in my daze of childhood memories, I’m completely shocked when Blake begins to strip. It’s a full-on Magic Mike show in my parent’s backyard. Well, there’s no dancing, but if I had dollar bills, they’d be flying right now.

He looks up after he takes his shirt off. I panic and childishly cover my eyes. He doesn’t say anything and all I hear is a faint laugh. I spread my fingers slightly and God, this is torture. Blake Fisher has grown up. He’s no longer the scrawny little boy I knew in high school. He’s a man.

My peep show is rudely interrupted by a huge splash when Blake jumps into the pond. He barely breaks the surface before he yells, “come on Wren! It feels great.”

I feel his eyes on me as I slowly lift my shirt. I’m shy about my body. Sharp edges have grown into soft curves over these last few years, but I have come to terms with the extra weight I put on since college. I’m confident, yet I feel like the same innocent sixteen-year-old who had let the man in front of her see her most intimate parts.

“I don’t know why you’re being so shy. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Blake says casually from the water.

Excuse me? I say to myself. His words are completely rational, but somehow, they feel so personal and cocky. I’m not going to let this man intimidate me.

I whip off my shirt and angrily kick off my boots. I look up as I unzip my pants and catch Blake’s heated stare. I guess I’m not the only one with a staring problem.

I’m wearing a well-worn-in sports bra I’ve had since high school and yet his stare makes me feel like I’m completely naked. I peel my pants off and mentally pat myself on the back for not wearing granny panties for once.

I throw my clothes to the side and don’t hesitate before jumping into the water. I feel like a kid again as I push myself toward the surface. The cold water wraps around me like a security blanket I didn’t know I needed until now. I really missed this.

I pop my head up out of the water and awkwardly tip toe to a depth where I can stand. I turn toward Blake and his proximity instantly warms me up. I feel goosebumps prickle across my skin as I try to get my breathing under control. If I just reach my arm out . . .

“Well, I think this was a good call,” Blake says.

My eyes snap to his and I’m met with the perfect swirl of green and golden specks, my favorite color.

“No complaints here,” I smile, giddily kicking my legs in the water. I can’t remember the last time I went for a casual swim. I wait for Blake’s reply, but he just stares at me like he’s trying to guess what I’m thinking. I shoot him a confused look and he snaps out of his trance.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you genuinely smile since you’ve been home.”

“Correction. The first time I’ve smiled with you around.”

“Good point,” he agrees and turns to swim further away. I’m thankful for the space. I wade out a little deeper, too, still keeping my distance.

“You look good, by the way.”

“What?”

“I said you look good, Campbell. It seemed like you were hesitant earlier, but you have nothing to worry about,” Blake says, sealing his statement with a wink.

I wince at the friendly way he uses my last name. Maybe I’ve let this go on for too long , I think as I contemplate getting out. I stop myself, though. This is my pond and he’s on my turf. He doesn’t get to scare me away.

“Excuse me for not wanting to strip in front of my ex-boyfriend,” I point out, rolling my eyes. “Also, I don’t think your girlfriend would like it if she knew how hard you were checking me out just now.” That was a cheap shot, but part of me needs to know who the girl from the bar the other night was.

It takes him a second to figure out what I’m talking about, but I see it click in his head as he remembers. “Oh, Riley? She’s just a girl I hang out with here and there. Not my girlfriend.”

“Hang out with?” I boldly question.

“Well, if you really want the details, I can give them to you, but that doesn’t seem very appropriate at the moment,” he responds without taking a beat.

“Oh, I’m sure the front seat of your truck is erotic as ever. You can spare me the details,” I respond with a bite in my tone.

“That’s cute, Wren. I do remember one night in particular when you were riding me in that front seat and got so carried away you broke my door handle from grabbing it too hard,” he smirks.

My pulse starts to speed up and I can feel knots begin to form in my stomach. I fight the urge of dropping my gaze from his eyes to his mouth. I can’t let him know how much that small memory is affecting me.

I grit my teeth together and contemplate what to say next, but I’m finding it harder to concentrate as the memory of his hands on my hips seeps back into my mind. But then I think of another memory. A memory that instantly cools me off.

“I’ve got to go,” I announce before making my way back to the shore.

“Wait, Wren,” Blake shouts as he swims after me. “I’m sorry . . . I shouldn’t have said that.”

I quickly reach the shore and toss my clothes on even though I’m soaked.

“It’s fine, Blake. We just forgot.”

“Forgot what?” he questions.

“Forgot that strangers can’t talk to each other like that.”

I start speed walking back to the house before the conversation can go on any longer. I hate running away from him, but I hate falling into old habits even more. The second I let him back in . . . I don’t know if I’ll be able to push him away again.