8. Brooks
8
Brooks
I find myself even more distracted from my work the next day. This stubborn woman who paraded into town less than 24 hours ago is shaking everything up, and I hate feeling thrown off. I typically live my days controlled and methodically. That’s why I’m so good on the ranch. I have always been able to keep a sense of control and accomplish the day’s tasks, even when shit hits the fan. Shit hits the fan most days, too.
But I feel shaken up now. Hell, I’m not sure what I feel or what is coming at me next. I’m not even sure if I am more intrigued or annoyed by the effect she has on me. Either way, I know it isn’t helping my productivity any. I need to get this girl out of my head. But I’m not sure if I will be able to do that as long as she is staying in my mom’s house.
From what I've seen today, she doesn’t seem to be making much progress on her end either. Although, I’m not exactly sure what she is trying to accomplish today. At dinner last night, she explained that a school project had led her here. She hit a dead end on the research she could do online. So she came to Sunflower Springs to uncover the identity of her mysterious biological parents. But I don’t know much more than that.
She is back and forth from the town to the house all day. Each time she leaves looking determined and optimistic. A woman with a plan. But she looks increasingly fed up and red-faced each time she shows back up. Where does she keep going? The town isn’t that big. Surely, one conversation with the town gossip would be enough to satisfy her and send her on her way. I huff a sigh of exasperation just thinking about it. I have known most of the people in this town since I was a kid. Everyone in the two neighboring towns, too. That’s just part of living in small rural communities. Everyone knows everyone. Turns out, that also makes everyone boring and annoying by the time you reach adulthood.
But the truth of the matter remains. She needs my help if she plans to get anywhere with this. Part of me wishes she would get on with it already. Realize she's in too deep, give in, and let me help. It would definitely cut down the time she is here. The quicker she leaves, the quicker I can get her out of my head, and get my life back on track. Damn, why does she have to be so stubborn?
But then again, another part of me enjoys watching her stubbornness and frustration. I like watching her push forward even when it looks like the odds are stacked against her. It had been downright enticing to hear her decline my offer to help. She may as well have just issued a challenge to make her change her mind. Challenge accepted.
Most girls in this town would make up shit for me to help them with. They like playing the damsel in distress. It's a game for them. Ya never know what knight in rusted armor will come running to save them. Not this girl. Of course, not this one. But damn it, why not this one?
Why Not the one I find interesting and intoxicating enough to want to spend time with? The one I want to want my help? Shit. If this isn’t just another page in the book of my everyday life here. If something worked out the way I wanted to in a smooth manner, I wouldn’t know what to think. I sure as hell wouldn’t know how to react or what to do with it. That isn’t the life I live. Never was. Never will be. Things don't come easy for me. Good thing I don't back down from hard work.
Mom has a handwritten list of outdoor tasks for me when I get to the B&B. No break from the heat today. I come in out of the field and go straight to sweeping and mopping the front porch. When I finish with that, I move on to wiping down the porch swings and tables. With a new guest who may stay awhile, Mom wants every area to feel clean, inviting, and comfortable. I scoff, for good measure. But I don’t actually disagree.
I can't stand doin extra shit for tourists. But this one just doesn’t fit the bill of the normal tourist. I wish I could shake that off and get her out of my head as easily as my mother’s other guests. When I finish the porch swings, I sit down to begin wiping down the tables. I hear an unfamiliar noise and look up.
I can barely stifle my laugh as I watch Gemma hobble up the steps and slump into the chair beside me. She huffs out a breath so big it blows the rogue pieces of hair out of her face.
“What a day,” she sighs, breaking the silence.
I look her over. “Where’s your shoe?”
Gemma looks down at herself. As if only realizing at that moment what a mess she is, she shrugs. “The giant mud puddle down the road needed it more than I did.”
I can’t help but laugh again and retort, “Was it the price you had to pay for treating it like a swimming pool?”
Gemma runs her hands through her muddy hair and laughs with me. “I suppose. But hey, it was a reasonable price to pay. I'll never turn down a swim in the dead of Summer.”
I note how at ease she seems, despite her disheveled appearance. You would never even know she was an outsider by watching her now. I admire that about her. Most outsiders are nothing but annoying tourists who stick out like a sore thumb. Hell, but she doesn’t really fit in as a townie, either. Most of the girls her age and half as pretty as her. And they are too busy primping and vying for attention to run around town the way she has.
Where has she been anyways? There aren’t that many hidden secrets hiding in this small town. Everyone knows just about everything there is about everyone here. Anyone on Main street could probably tell stories that span for generations. But somehow, this girl manages to come into town, stir up my life and fog up my head, fall in a puddle, lose a shoe, and still look hot as fuck in the process. Who is she anyways?