Chapter 15
Jake
It’s been a week since the neighbor–Scarlett apparently–put me on my ass in front of Cami.
It was a humbling experience to say the least. All my years living with a sister who admittedly could get angry, I have never even been close to being taken down by a woman.
In fact, I bet my face looked pretty ridiculous when it happened.
I stood there, strong and confident when she said what she was going to do.
Next thing I knew, I was seeing the clear, cloudless sky.
I don’t even want to talk about the way it made me feel because I’m still unpacking that.
Watching her walk away like a stone cold killer intrigued me.
Apparently, I like the idea of a woman who can handle her own.
Maybe I’m just lonely. Not that I left some big committed relationship or anything to come back home to take care of my dad but I did leave a bigger dating pool.
Most women in this little town are either married, my sister, or someone I went to school with and may or may not have already gone down that road.
It’s been an absurdly long time since I’ve had a relationship that felt more than just going through the motions.
Last year, Amelia tried to get me to download a few dating apps.
She swore that this was how people meet these days.
I had one on my phone for one day and that was more than enough for me.
I deleted my profile and swore that I would prefer to just be a lonely farmer the rest of my life.
I’m annoyed that it took a new neighbor, who has really only insulted me and physically taken me down in order to wake up that side of me again.
I’m also annoyed with the amount of times I take a peak out of my window in order to see what Scarlett’s doing.
It’s been a weirdly warm winter in Colorado this year and I can’t help but think that’s such a benefit for her.
Winter around here can be intense, way more intense than in Denver.
Usually we’re piled up with snow and just the normal day to day chores are more taxing in winter.
But this last week, I’ve seen her go out into the backyard and begin work on the chicken coop that Blaine let deteriorate.
The urge to go over there and ask her if she needed help when I saw her with a hammer and a battery powered handsaw was immense.
I know if I saw Amelia go anywhere with tools like that I’d be filled with fear.
When I walked over to the door and grabbed the knob though I realized, I have zero right to be fearful for a woman I don’t know with power tools.
For all I know, she’s some totally capable chick who tries all the things she sees off of HGTV.
Maybe she’s the type of chick who uses the tools and her boyfriend cooks.
Speaking of boyfriend, I haven’t seen anyone else come to her house. Jesus, I sound like a stalker. I have to get myself under control. Whether or not she has a boyfriend is quite literally none of my business.
Just as I’m chastising myself for stalking her I glance out the window again, coffee cup in hand to see her crouched down, running all over the yard behind her house.
She’s wearing an oversized gray sweatshirt, her jet black hair on the very top of her head, bobbing back and forth as she speed runs in a crouch.
It’s then that I notice she has her hands out in front of her, looking like she’s trying to catch something.
Now this is a situation I should go over for, right? I mean, it would be the correct neighborly thing for me to do. I shouldn’t just stay here, knowing she’s struggling. That would be rude, inconsiderate, and not neighborly at all. I think for a second about what my dad would say.
“A good man always helps when he sees someone struggle.” Of course, I’m not sure this is exactly what he pictured when he said that but regardless, I grab my jacket and walk out the door.
The sun is shining high in the sky, although the temperature contradicts that.
I pull my jacket tighter to me as the breeze blows through the meadow between our two homes.
Mountains loom in the distance on either side of our little sleepy town and I take note of the lack of snow on the ground during my walk over.
Normally we’d have a solid blanket of snow covering everywhere for months at a time. So much about this year isn’t normal.
“Here chickie chickie chickie.” I hear her voice, higher pitched than normal.
She sounds calm and soothing despite her crazy demeanor.
“What if I name you, would you come to a name?” She asks the baby chicken that I can now see darting back and forth just out of her reach.
What is it with women naming chickens? “Sarita? Are you a little Sarita?” The chicken picks up speed and Scarlett takes that as an answer.
“Okay, not a Sarita. What about Samantha?” She chuckles to herself and then says, “I don’t even know a Samantha.
” I furrow my brows in confusion. She hasn’t noticed my approach and I have to admit that I want to stay in the shadows as long as I can to watch… whatever this is.
“Wait a minute, maybe you’re a boy. Although, you’re not supposed to be a boy.
Anyway, what if you’re a Frank? Come here, Frank.
” She makes a tsk tsk tsk sound with her tongue as if she’s trying to call the baby chick back to her.
“What about Pedro!” She shouts at the baby chick and I swear to God that little baby chicken stops, turns around and hops back to Scarlett as if that was all it needed.
Scarlett puts her hand down on the ground and the chick hops right into her hand, settling in as she brings the chick up to her chest and rubs its little head.
The chick closes its little eyes while Scarlett coos, “That’s a good boy Pedro.
Let’s get you back in the coop with your siblings, you little escape artist.”
It’s at that moment that she finally notices me standing there awkwardly and the poor baby chick jostles in her hands as she jumps back in surprise.
I realize that I probably should have announced my arrival earlier but I was so entranced by the chicken wrangler that it just never came out.
I put my hands up to show my innocence, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.
I saw you through the window and I thought maybe I could lend a hand.
It doesn’t seem like you need it though.
” I let out an awkward little chuckle because I hear how creepy that sounds.
What is it with this woman that leaves me a fumbling mess?
“Yeah, I’m sure it was quite a show.” Thankfully, she looks sheepishly at me instead of scolding me for watching her out the window like the creep that I am.
“This little Houdini, damn that would have made a great name.” She stops and looks at the little chicken like why on earth did he pick Pedro when he could have been Houdini.
After a few seconds she looks back at me and finishes her thought.
“He managed to get out of the coop somehow. I haven’t been able to find out where yet because, well I was chasing him to keep him from getting eaten, but none of the other ones have made it out of there yet.
I guess Pedro is just special.” She shrugs and I can’t keep the edges of my lips from ticking upwards.
Sure, we live in a part of the country where predators are always possible but not usually midday, with people around.
But I keep these thoughts to myself as she opens the door to the coop.
Blaine gave up on his chickens years ago when he realized I could just bring him eggs and he didn’t need to have the responsibility of taking care of them anymore.
Neither he nor I took any care of the chicken coop after we merged his flock into mine and it had fallen into quite a mess.
Last time I paid any attention to it the roof was falling in, the closure on the door was rusted and useless, and the chicken wire around the run was curling up in several different places.
Looking at the chicken coop now, I don’t regret my decision not to intervene when she came out here with power tools.
The roof has fresh new plywood, the door has a brand new gate latch that’s probably oversized but does the trick, and from what I can see most of the chicken wire has been replaced or at least stapled back down.
I actually can’t see where little Pedro made it out of the coop either.
Scarlett puts Pedro back into the coop and after locking the door she gets down on her hands and knees and begins to crawl around the four sides of the coop.
I pull my eyes away from her perfect backside and try to be what I came over here to be.
Useful. While I don’t get down on my hands and knees, I do go over to the opposite side of the coop and work my way around to the back.
Scarlett and I end up at the same corner when out pops Pedro.
The coop itself is in perfect shape and she did a great job of repairing what was dilapidated.
The fact that there was just enough of a dip in the dirt in this back corner is not her fault.
Pedro stuck his tiny little head down in the dirt and popped back up on the other side of the wooden board.
“Ah ha!” Scarlett said as she easily scoops Pedro up in her hands this time. “Sneaky little guy.” She pets his head again and the way the little guy melts into her makes me wonder if he’s sneaking out just so she’ll pick him up again.
A quick glance around the yard and I see a shovel nearby. I grab it and start to dig around the corner he escaped and pile dirt high up on the sides of the coop wall. “That ought to stop him. Another week or so and he won’t fit through that hole anyway.” I say.
“Thanks, but just so you know, I don’t need to be rescued,” she says.
I’m a little taken back, I mean I didn’t come over here because I thought she couldn’t do something. Obviously, or I would have come over when I saw her carrying the saw. “That’s not, I didn’t come,” I stumble over my words to defend my actions when she speaks up.
“I appreciate it, I just don’t need it.” She stands firm with her arms crossed over her chest. Everything about her body language screams leave me the fuck alone.
“Noted.” I say flatly. I guess I can ignore all those instincts to help now. Good. I didn’t need anything extra on my plate anyway.