Who Pissed Off Ivy Dell? (Ivydell Book 3)

8. Ivy

Ivy

I log off and close my laptop. Even with the days I slack off, I’m still meeting my deadlines. But I dread them more and more. It’s not that I don’t want to work. I need a job; I’m just not sure how much I want the one I’ve got anymore.

I knew I was bored with it before I ever left for Ivydell. Bored and restless. Why else would I have packed up and hit the road so easily? But I didn’t know how bored. I thought it was the same complacency everybody feels after a while on any job. Maybe it was. Still is?

Ivydell probably isn’t the place to make big decisions about my life outside of here. But it wasn’t just my job that I was bored with. I was hardly dating at all. Barely had any social life outside work, and when I went out with coworkers, I’d end up mostly hanging out with Zara and ignoring everyone else.

My apartment wasn’t really a place I wanted to be either. Aside from the beach, I didn’t enjoy being anywhere. I went where I had to go or was expected to go. Necessary places.

Ivydell doesn’t expect anything from me. I’m unnecessary here, but I don’t want to leave. Maybe I’m not someone who needs to be needed after all. Or maybe I was, but I’m not anymore.

I don’t feel restless when I’m alone here. I still like having something to do, but I’m not bored. Doing nothing here doesn’t make me anxious. I’ve learned to just be sometimes without wanting to crawl out of my skin.

And then there’s Jensen. When we’re together, I know it’s because he wants to be with me, and I want to be with him, too. I’m never planning an exit strategy when we’re together. It wasn’t an instant attraction—okay, physically, it was—but I am so attracted to all of him now. His sense of humor, his grumpy moments, his generosity, his pain . . . I get it all.

The rest of the world would say we don’t really know each other, but I do know him. Because he’s let me, and he makes an effort to know me.

Opening up to someone new is usually a struggle for me, but it’s easier with him. Will my walls go back up after I leave? Part of me thinks he’s broken through them, but part of me is afraid I’ll build them back stronger. I”ve done it before.

I need some fresh air. The breeze is warm and gentle this afternoon, and it smells clean outside. Not like soap or detergent, more plantlike, but not flowers. Almost herbal, but not quite that either. Green, but not as sharp as fresh-cut grass. Just fresh.

April is painting in her yard. She stands in front of a canvas on an easel, and I’d love to go over and see it, but she’s prickly. Not sure she’d want anyone watching her work or peeking at an unfinished piece. I wave when she looks up. She returns the gesture, but she doesn’t call me over.

There are prairie dogs skittering around on the edge of Cujo’s driveway. A few of them are young. Gah, they’re so cute. They start chirping when they see me approach. I’d love to think they’re glad to see me, but they’re warning the others. Tall redhead encroaching. Beware!

Cujo’s screen door slams, and I suddenly want one of those. I’m going to ask Jensen if there are any in his shop. I’d love to be able to open my door in the evenings without having to worry about an animal wandering in.

“Why are you over here getting these rats all riled up?” he asks. His voice is as gruff as usual, but I know he’s not mad. I actually don’t ever want to see him mad.

“They’re trying to warn you about me.”

“I think they’re at the wrong casita.”

“It’s too late to warn him about me.”

Cujo laughs, and it’s so loud the prairie dogs all freeze. He walks toward his bike.

“Hey, before you take off, can I ask you something?” I pick up my pace to catch him before he cranks up his bike and can’t hear me.

His head turns toward me, but he’s not smiling. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be ambushed?”

“No ambush, I promise. I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought about asking Josephine to give you a tattoo.”

“That’s a hell of a random thing to walk around wondering about.”

“Okay, listen. If you don’t think she’s good enough, you can tell me, and I’ll drop it. I’ll never tell her that she’s right about why you haven’t asked. But if that’s not it, maybe you could bring it up to her sometime.”

“Does she want to give me a tattoo?”

“I can’t speak for her. But as her friend, I don’t think she’d say no if you asked.”

“Don’t do this shit. I need direct communication. Does she want me to ask her to do that?”

I nod.

“Are you refusing to speak now because you promised her you wouldn’t tell me this?”

I nod again. “But maybe don’t bring it up right away.”

“How long should I wait?”

“Just whenever it feels natural.”

“When do you suppose that should be?”

“In a few days, maybe? But don’t make it abrupt. You know, just nuance it into the conversation.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m all about nuance. Known for it.” He straddles his bike and walks it back. I jump aside when it rumbles to life. He nods at me when he turns the handlebars, and then he smiles. I know that look. He’s not smiling to be friendly; he’s happy, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with me.

Easiest nudge ever. Can’t wait to tell Jensen how badly he underestimated me.

When I reach the rock-lined path that I helped clear, I step onto it to walk out to the circle. I don’t know why, but I want to take a look and see if anything might need to be done out here.

The breeze blows through my hair, and a hawk circles in the clear blue sky. Such a perfect afternoon. More prairie dogs play to my left, making a sound I’ve never heard. Some of them are jumping and chirping as they run, but I hear a weird little drumroll sound, too. Like it’s coming from farther back in their throat. Or maybe they do it with their tongues. It’s not as loud as their other noises, but I know I heard some sort of vibration mixed in.

They’ve stopped making any sounds at all. I glance over my shoulder to see that they’ve all vanished. They must have a burrow close by, but that was a quick disappearing act.

I see a few furry heads pop up. Their warning chirps sounds off again. And then the drumroll again, more isolated. I stop walking. It’s not coming from behind me, which is where all the prairie dogs have gone. It’s not a throat vibration.

That’s a rattle. Fuck.

My eyes scan the dirt and scrub ahead. It camouflages so well, but I see the movement. It’s not slithering toward me, but it’s coiled and its head is moving. I hear Cujo’s bike coming back. He must’ve forgotten something.

Please see me. Notice me standing still out here.

His bike goes silent. I’m afraid to take my eyes off the snake, but I have to know if Cujo sees me. He does. I can see him in my peripheral vision now, standing next to his bike.

“Rattlesnake?” he yells.

“Yes!”

“You’re doing the right thing. How far?”

“Maybe six feet.”

“Okay. You should be good. Hang tight.”

“Yep. Not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Stay still. Keep an eye on it. I’m not going anywhere either.”

I stifle a yelp when the snake lowers its head and uncoils. It’s moving, I think. I hold my breath until I’m sure it’s headed away from me. And then I start to walk backward in long, steady strides. There’s probably enough distance between us now that I could turn around and run, but I’m afraid to attempt it. I take another step back. My foot comes down on a rock and something grabs me around the waist. I scream before I realize what’s happened.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” It’s Cujo. I stepped on his boot. He grabbed me to keep me from tripping. He was coming to my rescue, even though I’m pretty sure I’m out of harm’s way. “You shouldn’t be walking around out here in shorts.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

He laughs, not as loud as usual. “They can strike through pants, but it’s some protection at least. Bare legs are not a good idea.”

“I’ve worn shorts before, and nobody said anything.”

“It’s not as likely you’d encounter a rattler up front where most of the casitas are. They’re a lot more common out here in the open. They don’t want to be near us anymore than we want to be near them. You did good, though. Somebody taught you enough to know you needed to hold still.”

“We have rattlesnakes on the beach. They live in the dunes. There aren’t a lot of sightings, but they’re there. People see them more at night. I’ve always known what to do, but never actually had to do it.”

“If I let go of you now, you can stand, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.” I hadn’t even realized he was still holding on to me. I’m a little rattled for sure. “I think that puts an end to my afternoon walk.”

“Come on. I’ve got to swing back by my place, and then I’ll drop you at yours on the way out. You ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”

“Um, I grew up at the beach. Yes, I’ve ridden on plenty of motorcycles.”

“All right. Good to know.”

He mounts his bike and cuts his eyes at me. “Don’t make my bike the first one you burn your leg on, please.”

“I know how to get on.” When my arms wrap around him, he drives off slowly. April is standing near the path, watching us. She must’ve heard us yelling back and forth about the snake. I wave.

She doesn’t wave back. For a second, I’m afraid she’s standing still because of a snake, too, but she turns and walks back in the direction of her casita.

Cujo goes inside to get whatever he’d forgotten, and then he drops me off at Sparrow’s Song.

Jensen’s truck is at Myrna’s, so I walk across the street to tell them about my snake encounter.

Before I make it to her front door, she opens it, and she and Jensen stand and stare at me. “Listen, doll. You can’t have ’em all.”

“Cujo rescued me from a rattlesnake.”

Jensen lunges at me from the doorway. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It didn’t bite me. I knew to hold still, but it was pretty damn scary. Cujo saw me, and he watched until the snake moved on and I could back away. Then he came out to check on me and gave me a ride home.”

“What were you doing hiking in shorts?” Myrna asks.

“Nobody told me not to. Until today. You’re the second person who’s mentioned it today.”

“Let me be the third,” Jensen says.

“Are people not allowed to wear shorts when they come to the festival?”

“We don’t tell them what to wear, but we do tell them to stick to the path, and to pay attention to the signs.”

“Signs?” I ask. “What signs?”

Jensen shakes his head. “We have warning signs, and signs to direct them.”

“Where are they? Do they need to be touched up?”

Myrna laughs. “Uh-oh. Our official sign painter is warming up her brushes.”

“You can take that up with Petra. Right now, I’m taking you home.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Myrna says as she closes her door.

“You know you can call me if you ever need help, right?”

“I couldn’t call anyone. I had to hold still. And then Cujo saw me, so he waited in case I needed help, but I didn’t really. I knew what to do. I’m just shaken up because I’ve never had to actually do it before.”

“I’m glad Cujo was there. I just want to be sure you know you can always call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks. But I’m okay, really.”

“I know.”

“Okay. But if you don’t stop squeezing my hand so hard, you’re going to break my fingers.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I just don’t like knowing you could’ve been hurt.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my fingers. “I didn’t mean to squeeze so hard.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.”

“Good. But I wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you either. I promise.”

“You can’t promise something like that. But I appreciate that you’d try.”

“I’d die trying, Ivy.”

“Well, fortunately for both of us, it’s highly unlikely you will ever need to do that.”

He holds my door open, and I walk inside, stopping in front of him for a moment. “She didn’t die because you didn’t try hard enough to protect her.”

“I know.” He kisses my hand again. “But that’s not going to stop me from trying harder with you.”