Chapter Eleven
Rain
This wasn’t my first rodeo. I’d moved before, but I’d never lived in a town this small, and it was taking some getting used to.
Yes, it was slower. And that was great. But slower also meant I couldn’t simply decide to eat Thai or steak or barbecue and have my choice of half a dozen places to get it in a five-mile radius.
Here, I needed to plan a day trip if I wanted to hit up a warehouse store.
The biggest adjustment of all was social. Without having work as a means of meeting people, making friends kind of sucked. Sure, I had Lux, and that was amazing and wonderful and fantastic. But also, I had Lux, and that was it.
Layla at the diner was nice to me when I went there to work.
Gary would even say hi to me, but for the most part, the only people I ever talked to were Bennett and Geoff from the motel.
They were really nice and very unique and interesting, but they weren’t my typical friend group.
They weren’t people I’d go out with on a Friday night for happy hour or anything like that.
But then again, this wasn’t the kind of town where you did that.
There was a bar, ish. Gosh, that was that.
And I was starting to reevaluate what I thought was fun, anyway. Wasn’t all of that part of why I was feeling the itch to leave and move to the middle of nowhere? Pretty much.
I wasn’t working today. One of the things I decided when coming here was that I was going to set firm boundaries with myself.
I wasn’t going to be one of these people who went from working in an office and being forced to toil for incredibly long hours to self-employed and imposing twice as many on myself.
I’d seen too many people do that over the years. Sure, they were their own boss, but sometimes when you’re your own boss, you’re the biggest dick of all. What value did being self-employed have if you did nothing but work?
Lux didn’t have off today, so I found myself at the check-in desk with a cup of tepid coffee, helping Bennett with his crossword.
He was obsessed with them, and it amused me no end that he used carpenter pencils to complete them.
They had such little boxes to put the letters in, and he picked the thickest lead there was.
No erasers on top, either. I used to think pens were the worst option, but I was second-guessing that assessment as Bennett struggled with today’s puzzle.
“Yes, that’s it,” he said, writing down the word tuna, my sole contribution to his current correct answers. “Remind me, why are you hanging out here? I know I’m a ball of wonder, but you’re young. There are so many things you could be doing right now better than being stuck inside.”
He wasn’t mincing words. I kinda liked it.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know what those ‘many things’ are, so here I am. They finally razed my house, though. So, at least I add gossip to tuna as my contribution for your time.”
He shook his head, very obviously amused. “I hadn’t heard yet, so your fee is accepted. If you come back tomorrow, you will need new gossip. No double-dipping.” He started to fill in some boxes and grumbled something I didn’t understand before putting the pencil down.
“Anyway, going down past that is pretty depressing, more so than when it was the remains from the fire.”
“Why do you think that is?” He turned his seat so he was facing me without cricking his neck.
“Not sure. Maybe because now it’s like it was never there.”
“I can see that. Well, you’re more than welcome to stay here, with or without gossip.”
“Thanks. It’s been really hard to meet people in a small town. I appreciate you.”
“Yeah, we’re kind of like that here. It’s easy to have people to say hello to, but that’s about it, especially when most of the people in your demographic are already married with kids.”
He wasn’t helping me feel better about the possibility of friendships, but that was all right. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was less about that and more about connection. I was building those here.
“So, rumor has it, you’re dating Lux.”
I turned around to see Geoff in the doorway.
“How long have you been waiting there to ask me that?” I swore he was a freaking cat the way he moved. I never heard him coming. He needed a bell.
“Awhile.” He chuckled. “But I was busy eavesdropping. You know how it is. Tell me everything.”
“There’s no way I’m telling you everything.” I wasn’t sure I understood everything. It was all so new and intense. But also, nothing had ever felt so right as being with him.
“Then tell me something.” Now, Geoff was begging. Adorable.
“Anything?”
He nodded.
“Fine He’s really nice.”
“Agreed,” Geoff said. “Always has been. It’s why he’s so good at his job.”
Bennett added. “And that ass…delicious.”
I did not need to hear Bennett talking about my mate’s ass. I. Did. Not.
“Could we move past that? Maybe talk about, I don’t know, the speed at which paint dries? Or something just as personal.”
He cracked up. “I never know what you’re gonna say.”
I thought I was a pretty predictable person, but apparently not so much, at least not around here.
“Expecting a check-in?” Geoff asked.
“No, not today, but that doesn’t mean we won’t get a walk-in. So maybe. Why? Do you need to shut off the electricity to some of the rooms?”
“Nah, there’s just a sound in the driveway of someone pulling in.”
My first thought was that it was Lux—that he’d gotten off early and come to see me. Not because he gave any indication that was possible but because I wanted him to. Then, in walked a man I didn’t recognize.
“Delivery.”
Great. It was a delivery. Just what I wanted. Only the wrong guy.
“Is it for the motel?” Bennett asked.
“Nah, it’s for Rain, but it doesn’t have the unit number.”
“I’m Rain.”
He came over and handed me a box, the kind that looked like it would have a pet inside. I got nervous seeing the holes that could only be used for breathing. “Is it going to bite?”
“Nah, it’s from the florist a couple of towns over. You’re good.” He handed me a clipboard to sign as delivered.
“Okay.” I signed for it, and he left.
When I opened the box, I found a plant and an envelope. I opened it. It said, Welcome home. He wasn’t talking about this place or even my house. He was talking about himself. He’d mentioned I was his home, and this was his way of saying he could be mine.
Behind the card was a photograph. I pulled it out to find a picture of tires that were blissfully full. On the back, it said, The tire fairies must have fixed it because it was good to go when I got to the diner this morning.
It had me smiling. That’s when I realized I didn’t even have his phone number. How could I properly thank him? Sure, I could wait until I saw him again, but that felt rude.
I grabbed my plant and ran outside.
“Wait!” I called to the delivery guy, catching him just as he was climbing into his vehicle. “Do you work for the florist? Or can anybody have a delivery from you?”
“Anyone. Private contractor. Why?”
“Can you hold on? I’ve got a delivery for you.”
He looked at me skeptically but told me I could.
I ran to my room and grabbed a little fox key chain I’d had forever.
It currently had the keys to my now-nonexistent house on it.
I took the keys off, tossed them in the trash, and grabbed the small box of tea I had on my dresser.
I took the last of the tea bags out and put the key chain inside along with a little note.
This is where I used to keep the keys to my home. I guess that means it’s yours now.
I thought it was cute and clever, but after he drove away to deliver it, I wondered if that was so. I’d find out soon enough.