Chapter 7 #2
Samael stood and laid his iPad on the table. He signed something I didn’t understand, and then he grabbed his notepad again. Guilt boiled low in my stomach. I couldn’t imagine how frustrating it was to try to talk to someone with sign language and they didn’t understand.
Go get dressed in something more farm appropriate. Dalton will put you to work as soon as we get there.
He grinned at me when I raised my curious gaze to him, and I smiled back. I could handle work.
The drive to Dalton’s farm was a good hour.
He lived outside of New Gothenburg and the roads were winding and long.
I was pretty sure I fell asleep at some point because when I woke up again, we were heading down a dirt driveway and past some animal pens.
The ground was covered in a layer of fresh snow which glowed in midmorning sun.
“I’ve never been to a farm,” I said to break the silence, which wasn’t uncomfortable, but I felt the need to speak anyway.
I’d lived with mostly silence for six years, and while I’d enjoyed it on the streets, it felt different in a car.
Glancing from the wandering cows I’d been staring at to Samael, I smiled.
“Mom told me once that my great grandparents owned a farm out in Ohio before she was born, but they sold and moved to New Gothenburg. They never liked the farm life. It was too much work and they were getting older. Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if they kept it.
Maybe I’d have been one of those sexy cowboys who wore plaid and boots.
I’d tilt my hat at every person I met while saying howdy, darlin’. ”
Samael’s mouth stretched in a wide grin that looked like a laugh and he shook his head.
“It’s true. I’d be tall and handsome, with lots of muscles that I got from farm work.” I patted my soft and skinny belly. “The girls would swoon and the boys would stare at me in envy.”
He raised his eyebrows at me, and I nodded.
“You’re right, I want the boys to swoon, too.”
Samael made a noise that was definitely a chuckle, and I grinned in triumph.
Once upon a time, in a world I’d forgotten about, I liked to make people laugh.
I was a regular jokester who spoke far too much until reality stole that away from me.
Now, I hated people—well, nearly everyone.
I’d seen the bad side of humanity, and I didn’t want to like anyone.
Samael was a different story. I barely knew him, but I didn’t despise him.
He gave people the punishment they deserved.
We rolled up toward a cute little white farmhouse with dormer windows, a large welcoming porch, and a multilevel gable roof. It was two stories tall and looked older.
A tall man stood on the porch, his arms crossed as he stared at us until Samael pulled the car up on the dirt path right in front of the three steps that led up to the house.
I stared past the house toward a frozen lake slightly to the left. Frowning, I pointed at it. “That doesn’t have ducks, does it?”
Samael cocked his head at me as he turned off the ignition.
“Ducks are dangerous. Have you seen their beaks?” I folded my hand in front of my lips, hoping it looked like a bill from a duck. Not beaks, but whatever. All birds had beaks as far as I was concerned. “They chase you and try to kill you.” I snapped my fingers against my thumb in a biting gesture.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. I could almost read the thoughts processing through his mind: Ducks don’t bite. More than one person had told me that exact thing. But they were wrong and most of them had never met the kind of duck that did.
“Geese?” he mouthed.
“No, ducks! It’s ducks.” I shook my head. “I have scars to prove it. Well, maybe not anymore, but one of those bastards shredded my finger when I was six. And they fly at you and try to take off your face.”
He got this line between his forehead as though he couldn’t decide whether he believed me or not.
“It’s true. My cousin owned ducks. They aren’t friendly. They go for everything. Ankles, face, hands, arms, feet. They’re horrible animals. Never have one as a pet. Ever.” I slumped back into the seat once I’d finished my rant and snorted when Samael laughed again.
No one would understand my extreme dislike of the animals, but they wouldn’t need to because he pointed at the wide pond. “Frozen,” he mouthed.
“Thank God.”
Samael scrunched his face up at me like he didn’t believe a word about the ducks and opened his door, stepping out of his car. I followed him and watched as the two cousins hugged each other. Dalton thumped Samael on the back, and when they broke apart, he turned a curious gaze on me.
I made it around to the front of the car before I stopped under the scrutiny, not quite sure what I was supposed to do.
I thought about curtseying, but then decided my bad humor wasn’t needed right now.
It felt like I was meeting the family of a potential romantic partner, which wasn’t the case because Samael had made it clear he wasn’t gay.
Hand jobs said otherwise though, right? No, they didn’t. Who was I kidding?
“Nice to meet you in person, Ezra.” Dalton stepped in closer and held out his hand, and I slipped mine into his, shaking it. He had overly coarse palms, the kind you’d expect a farmer to have, and I didn’t like it much. Just imagining that on my dick had me wincing. “I’m Dalton, Samael’s cousin.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Already met you over video chat,” I said, glancing over his shoulder at Samael, who watched us carefully. “Nice to meet you. I wasn’t brought out here so you could feed me to the animals, right?”
“Not yet, but that could change.” He stared at me casually for a few long moments before a grin broke out on his face. Laughing, he patted my hand before releasing it. “No, I’m not that type of guy.”
I raised my eyebrows.
Samael signed to Dalton, who laughed.
“Ducks? I don’t think so. Ducks haven’t hurt anyone.” Dalton sent me a pointed look.
“They were, I swear.” I groaned. I shouldn’t have said anything because now I wasn’t going to live this down.
“You probably meant geese,” Dalton said.
“Nope. Ducks. Why does no one believe me?”
Dalton shrugged, gesturing for me to follow him as he turned on his heel and stalked back toward the house.
On the way past, he slapped his hand against Samael’s back again and guided him up the stairs onto the porch and through the front door.
I couldn’t do anything but follow, catching the front of my shoe on the top step and nearly tripping onto my face. I saved myself before disaster struck.
I followed them into a modest entrance way with dark wood floorboards and white walls.
It was open and airy. The only thing in sight as we walked in was a tall grandfather clock made of wood a few shades lighter than the floor.
It ticked softly, the pendulum gently swaying, and I couldn’t help but stop and admire the beautiful antique.
“It belonged to my father.”
The voice startled me, and I glanced to my right. Samael and Dalton had paused at a rectangular archway that clearly led through to the dining room, if the table and chairs behind them said anything.
Dalton nodded at the clock. “I said it belonged to my father and before that his father. A family heirloom.”
“Oh.” I smiled and gave it a final look before I walked toward them again, my shoes squeaking on the wood. “It’s nice.” Then, I stopped and frowned. “I wasn’t going to steal it.”
Dalton’s eyebrows shot up, and Samael cocked his head in confusion.
“Okay?” Dalton laughed, his entire face lighting up in amusement that made me feel little and stupid. “I didn’t think you were. If you can steal a big-assed clock like that, then you deserve to keep it. It weighs a ton.”
I glared at him and stepped back, but Samael reached out and snagged my wrist so I couldn’t make a quick escape. His lips twisted and he dragged me closer. He released me again because he signed with Dalton. Whatever he said made Dalton’s eyes widen, and he smiled apologetically at me.
“I wasn’t saying you’d steal. It was a joke. A bad one.” He scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “More of an inside joke. My dad always said that if we were ever robbed, they’d take everything but that clock because of how heavy it is.”
Embarrassed heat attacked my cheeks and I glanced away, staring at the walls and how incredibly bare they were.
I wasn’t much of a decorator myself, but I imagined I’d have something on the walls in my home, even if it was cheap artwork.
The train of thought made me forget the shame of getting so worked up for no reason, and I turned back to them with a nod.
Dalton grinned and waved for me to follow. We walked into the dining room together, and I didn’t miss the way Samael touched my arm gently, almost as though asking if I was okay.
I nodded, though I hated how much of a fool I’d made of myself.
It’d been so long since I’d been this close to another person that I’d forgotten everything but the nastiness of human beings.
Oh, there were the charitable people, too, who acted like they deserved a Nobel Prize for putting a dollar beside me, but I pretended they didn’t exist. I didn’t need or want their help.
Samael was a different story. He didn’t give me a dollar or bring me a cheap meal he bought from a gas station—he’d killed for me.
The thought made my skin flush for a different reason, and I smiled at him in answer to his inaudible question of whether I was all right. Yes, I was definitely okay right now.
“Come here and taste this cheese I made,” Dalton said, waving his hand at us and nearly skipping through to the kitchen.
Samael shook his head and grinned, but he grabbed my elbow and dragged me, as though he expected me to run in the opposite direction. Nothing could make me do that, especially not with the strange feeling cooking in my stomach. The heat, the need, the security—it was new and delicious.