Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Even though I have no reason to bring a knife to work, I slip my slender folding knife into my slacks pocket anyway. If nothing else, to make me feel like I haven’t sold my soul completely.
When I walk into the kitchen, Dad’s frying up bacon, the rich, salty scent mixing with his famous sourdough flapjacks browning on the griddle.
He’s dressed in work jeans and his uniform black wool sweater with the Idaho Fish and Wildlife CO patch at the shoulder, which means he’s headed into the field.
I try and fail to tamp down my pang of envy.
Is CJ meeting him here? My already anxious belly cartwheels.
Dad shoots me a quick smile before flipping two giant flapjacks. “Morning.”
“Morning.” When I was a kid, he’d make a big breakfast for all of us on the first day of school which I learned later on was a major feat because it almost always coincided with the onset of hunting season, when the demands of his job were highest.
“Smells good.” I beeline for the coffeemaker and pour myself a cup, then top off his.
“Happy first day,” he says.
I kiss his cheek, then grab the milk from the fridge. Dad’s coffee is always extra strong, so I have to cut it with milk, or it’ll hit my already knotted stomach like battery acid.
Our eyes meet, and his expression softens. “You look nice.”
I smile. “Thanks, Pop.” Turns out I clean up pretty good, despite how awkward my new clothes feel. I still need a haircut but Sofie’s stylist couldn’t fit me in until next month. Maryanne jokes that I need a sticker that says MY OTHER CAR IS AN ENDANGERED SPECIES.
I help Dad serve everything up, and we settle in, side by side at the breakfast counter. “Fieldwork today?”
“Yeah. Going to try to catch up with some shed hunters who’ve been harassing the Lost River herd.”
Our house is on the way to the Lost River Basin, where one of Idaho’s biggest elk herds overwinters. This means the chances of a CJ sighting this morning just quadrupled.
I make sure to get my napkin fully over my lap so I don’t drip on my new pants, then fork a bite of my pancake smothered in butter and maple syrup into my mouth. It’s rich and packed with just enough sweetness to draw a contented sigh from my lips. Okay, maybe front-country life won’t be so bad.
“As good as you remember?” Dad asks, nibbling on a piece of bacon.
“Better.” I lean against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He leans into me for a shared moment of warmth, then we eat in silence for a few minutes.
“Are you going to pack a lunch?” he asks. “There’s not much in Gibbs.”
I set down my fork and cradle my coffee. “Last night I packed up some leftovers.”
He pushes back from the counter and grabs his empty plate. “You want the rest of the coffee?”
“You take it,” I say. I might treat myself to a stop at Love Buzz on my way out of town. It is my first day, after all.
My phone chimes with a text from the group chat I share with Sofie and Jesse.
SOFIE:
Have a great first day!
JESSE:
Slay the day, butt munch
That one gets a snort, which is surely his goal.
Dad glances over my shoulder to read my screen, and smirks.
I type out a THANK YOU then carry my plate to the sink.
The rumble of an approaching engine and the crunch of tires over the snowy gravel in our driveway gets Bruneau bolting from his bed in the living room, barking and wagging his tail.
I continue to the sink and gaze out the big window.
Sure enough, CJ’s blue Dodge and a battered single horse trailer are parked behind Dad’s rig.
Butterflies lurch up my chest. I need to leave now if I want to treat myself to coffee, but if I hide in the kitchen, I could avoid…
I sigh in frustration because I’ve let CJ become a factor in my decision making.
Which is exactly what I told myself I’d never do again.
Even if it’s just about coffee. Because what if this is how I let things start with Nathan?
I stuff my Tupperware of leftovers and my water bottle into my battered daypack and head for the door, slipping on my new IDFW jacket.
It feels weird leaving the house in the pair of sensible pumps Sofie insisted would make a good first impression instead of my hiking boots.
I wanted this job because the most effective way to protect and preserve the natural world is to drive policies that can be enforced by law.
I’ll still get to do fieldwork, and spend time outside, but there’s more power in a position like this.
And field jobs are seasonal with sucky pay and even suckier benefits.
Future me is going to be proud of the opportunity I’m taking today.
Right?
After a quick goodbye to Bruneau, I follow Dad out the door. It’s snowing in light, barely-there flakes, with no wind. Bright sunbeams punch through the clouds, illuminating patches of the rolling foothills and forests with a pearly glow.
A truck door slams and just as I follow Dad through the gate, CJ rounds the front of his truck.
His full lips part when he sees me, and for one second, two, my heart slams so hard in my throat my ears throb.
He’s dressed like Dad in the black wool sweater with the IDFW patch on the shoulder, only it looks different on him.
Maybe it’s how the black highlights his dark lashes that frame those stormy eyes, and contrasts the coppery highlights in his wavy hair.
Or maybe it’s the respect I feel for him in his role as a conservation officer. The same respect I have for Dad.
Maybe that last part’s fucked up. It’s not like I have Daddy issues.
“Morning,” Dad calls out to CJ, his tone all-business.
CJ’s gaze snaps to Dad behind me. “Morning, sir.”
While the two of them work out their plan, I turn left and follow the length of CJ’s truck and trailer toward my car.
CJ’s horse pokes his nose to the window, making me pause. “Hey there,” I say softly, offering my knuckles. His dark, soulful eyes fix on me while his big nostrils flare and his warm breath tickles my skin.
“That’s Jasper,” CJ says, startling me. From the other side of his rig, Dad’s truck door shut.
I stroke up Jasper’s nose with my thumb. “He’s sweet.”
CJ walks closer, his boots crunching over the new snow. “He likes you.”
I glance over my shoulder. The new snow is sticking to his hair like confetti. A craving to run my fingers through it sends a wave of heat down my spine. “Are you in on this double date idea?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, his smile almost shy. “I’m in on whatever it takes to see you again.”
Of all the things he could have said, I hadn’t planned on that.
Dad’s engine turns over and he starts pulling forward.
“You’d better go,” I say.
He chews his bottom lip, then nods. “Yeah.”
I turn away, but he reaches for my hand. The contact of his warmth and those calluses against my skin as he gently tugs makes my breath catch.
“Why do you sleep on the floor?” he asks as I turn back.
“What?” I’m tempted to pull away, but he brushes his thumb across my knuckles.
I try to form words that don’t make me sound like such an oddball, but there aren’t any.
“At the field station, the bunks are just wood frames, so I sleep on my camping mattress. It takes me awhile to get used to a bed again.” Yet I’ve been home for over a week and I haven’t even tried it.
“You miss being in the field,” he says with a soft nod and the hint of a smile. Not a condescending smile. It’s kind.
“I’m trying not to.”
His eyes soften with confusion. “Why is that?”
Anxious energy fizzles beneath my skin. Admitting that I’ve been up half the night, convinced my new job isn’t going to be so great feels wrong, especially to him.
You don’t bring up messy life evaluations with the random guy you humped in a bar.
I should talk about this with Dad or Sofie or Jesse, but I hate feeling like a mess. I want to put all of that behind me.
“Have a good day,” I manage.
CJ’s expression turns apprehensive. “You too.”
I slip my hand from his and head for my car, but my new shoes on the slick snow make me feel like a duck on ice.
CJ pulls out just as I collapse into the driver’s seat, his trailer rocking gently over the bumps.
You ever wanna not be careful again, do it with me.
A part of me wants to say fuck it and climb him like a tree. The other part is reminding me how peaceful my life has been without a man mucking things up.
How do I know I’m ready to be with someone new?
And how will I break it to my family so they don’t worry?