Chapter 11 #2
“She’s only got one eye, Mom. She’s so cool,” Maggie said, bouncing on her toes. “Josh taught us all about bear safety. We’re not allowed to pet her. But we can wave from far away.”
“Anyway.” I shoved my hands into my pockets, my shoulders rising. What was it about this pint-sized woman that put me on the defensive? “I should get going.”
“No,” Maggie complained. “We’ve got to finish our game.”
Celine gave her daughter that mom look that said she meant business. “It’s a school night.”
Ellie scoffed, her head tilted back while Stella worked on her braid. “It’s not even nine.”
“Is your homework done?”
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” I said, taking a step back.
She ran her hands through her hair. It was down now, gathering in soft waves around her collarbones. I’d never seen it like this. Only pulled back tightly. It was nice. Made her look softer somehow.
“It’s fine,” she gritted out. “Thank you for the bear warning. And for the new nightmare material.”
“I’ve got cameras,” I explained. “If she shows up, I’ll text you.”
“I know it sounds scary,” Stella said. “But Betsy is part of this town. She’s always around, always getting into things. And she’s just in search of food. A nuisance, really, but a cute one.”
Whistling for Wayne, I headed toward the door. I’d overstayed my welcome, my skin suddenly itchy. My dog followed, though his steps were slow and his head hung.
I’d stepped off the porch when Celine called my name.
I turned, finding her framed in the porch light. She was undeniably beautiful. In a scary way, actually. But my brain didn’t have the capability of registering fear as I drank her in.
She wore a twirly dress that hit at her knees. Very different from the usual uniform of leggings and Crocs.
She looked girlish and pretty. Like someone I’d like to take on a date.
Somewhere nice with candles and fancy food. I’d treat her. Pull out all the stops. Based on our interactions so far, I got the sense no one had ever taken care of her before.
“Thank you,” she said, “for looking out for us. And for playing chess.”
“No problem.” It wasn’t. I’d had fun. They were good kids, and spending time with them was easy. They asked a lot of questions, but most were harmless and lots were funny, and the chatter was surprisingly comforting after a long, quiet day.
She stood in the doorway, her face in shadow, scrutinizing me.
“You look nice,” I said awkwardly.
She looked down at her pink dress. “Thanks. It’s nice to remember I own clothing besides leggings.”
“And Crocs,” I added.
Her eyes flashed. “Do not criticize the Crocs.”
I held my hands up in defense. “Wouldn’t dare. Plastic shoes are the height of fashion.”
She glared at me. “Your ignorance is showing. Crocs are God’s gift to moms. They’re easy to put on. Kids step into them. Washable and waterproof. Kids are filthy. You can hose them down.”
I crossed my arms, amused at her rant.
“And the shape makes it so sizing doesn’t really matter. A little big or small makes no difference. Ellie wears mine, Julian gets whatever color he’s currently hyperfixated on, and everyone is happy.”
“Sounds great.”
Her eyes flashed. I liked this side of her, playful and confident. “So if you come for Crocs, you’re coming for moms. And I will not stand for that disrespect.”
She put her hands on her hips.
Suddenly I had the strange urge to kiss that smirk right off her face.
“Don’t look at me like that. Don’t judge me because I’ve ascended to a higher plane of functional living.”
I nodded. “Understood. I will never malign your footwear choices again.” I gave her a curt wave and turned to walk home. To process this weird, fun evening and all the strange feelings it was inspiring within me.
“Actually.” Her voice was soft. “Josh.”
I turned back. “You okay Matchstick?”
She looked hesitant, and she tensed further when I used the nickname. But I couldn’t help it. She had this energy about her. A riot of emotions always brewing below the surface. Sparks igniting, ready to set her off.
“Since you asked,” she said, lowering her focus to her feet. “Tonight I got, um, persuaded to help with the Harvest Festival.”
I crossed my arms. “Who got to you?”
“Callie.” Her shoulders drooped.
It was surprising, really, that it had taken this long for Callie to broach the subject with her.
“Yeah, she’s hard to avoid. Just be grateful you’ve got the younger generation of townsfolk on your case. It could be the mafia, and they don’t make requests.”
“So I got off easy?” the corner of her mouth quirked.
“Probably. What job did she give you?”
She shifted, grimacing, then padded down the steps, leaving only a couple of feet between us.
“I’m in charge of organizing and overseeing the hayrides.”
My heart thudded heavily.
“Decor, route planning, and, um…”
I held my breath, knowing where this was going.
“Persuading you to donate your time and the use of your tractors.” She forced her face into something resembling a smile.
I smirked. “Are you trying to charm me right now, Matchstick?”
Her expression vanished quickly. “No. I know you’re too smart to fall for that. I’m just.” She shrugged. “Asking.”
I took a step forward, closing the distance between us.
“So ask,” I said, my voice thick. “Nicely.”
She tilted her head up to meet my gaze. She was so tiny and yet so strong, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
I stood for a moment, shoving my hands into my pockets for something to do.
There was no time. I was short-staffed and dealing with the most volatile season I’d ever experienced on this farm.
Also, I did not volunteer. I didn’t do town events unless everyone showed up and forced me to, like Chainsaw Day. There simply wasn’t time.
But I didn’t actually give a shit.
Every instinct told me to gather her in my arms. To tell her she could rest. That she didn’t have to hold the weight of the world on her shoulders all the time. That I’d help carry the load. Do whatever she needed.
She pursed her lips, attention roaming over my face.
I clenched my fists to keep from reaching for her.
“Please,” she said, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
With my teeth sunken into my lip, I nodded. I couldn’t trust myself to respond with words.
Then I did the only safe thing I could think to do.
I turned and walked back to my house.