6. Jake
SIX
JAKE
Bill said 7:30 a.m., right? It’s 7:40 and there’s no sign of anyone at all on this farm. I go back through my texts to confirm I’m at the right barn, as there are a few buildings here.
Then a hair-raising, blood-curdling scream cuts through the air. My short stint as an EMT gave me an adrenaline junkie complex. It comes down to some basic Neanderthal part of me: someone is in trouble. I’m the one to go.
I jog toward the sound, hoping I hear it again and can find them.
“Hello?” I call out.
The response is . . . laughter?
And an excited squeal.
“Ew, you’re all wet!” followed by more musical laughter.
I’m beside the big white farmhouse and continuing to run, just in case. Halfway across the lawn, I spot a t-shirt on the ground. A flash of a figure passes ahead of me and more giggles fill the air.
“Wanna do it again?” a woman’s voice asks.
Then with another scream, a naked woman and a dog run by and jump. A lake or pond must be ahead, up the hill a bit and through some brush. Water splashes as the naked figure curls into a ball and disappears.
Is this a mirage in the desert? It is pretty hot outside, but I’m hydrated. If I’m not hallucinating, that woman’s waist-to-hip ratio is the kind of thing that could keep a man up at night. People pay money to see a show like this. Her breasts bounced when she was running, and so did her ass.
Her nice, big, fleshy, round ass. Goddamn. She’s a work of art.
Those screams are so authentic, though. She must have been letting out some kind of awful something. Catharsis.
I don’t know who this woman is, but she’s certainly not Bill.
She emerges from the water, droplets streaming off her every curve as she wrings out her hair. Thick, dark hair spirals toward her waist, and oh my god, she’s probably wringing out her hair because she’s done.
And she’s about to find out that I saw her.
I turn tail and sprint back for the barn.
* * *
I sit in my truck’s tailgate, waiting for someone else to show up. Is this all some elaborate prank?
I have
twiddled my thumbs.
thought about math equations to get my body to calm down.
examined my truck for signs of rust.
fucked with my hat and been thankful I got a replacement for my old beat-up one.
thought about that woman’s hips, ass, and tits because why wouldn’t I?
again thought of the most boring shit I can conjure so I don’t think about the person skinny dipping in a pond.
Relief floods through me when another car pulls in the drive, proving I’m not just a guy spying on a beautiful woman skinny dipping, but in fact, a guy reporting for his first day of work. A tall and lean guy gets out, with dark skin and hair that’s close cropped on the sides and fades into short coils. He reaches back into his car to grab a ball cap from his passenger seat, then checks his phone before waving.
“Hey, man. Rossetti’s Peaches, right?”
“Think so. I’m Jake.”
“Caleb,” he says, putting his hand out for me to slap. Loud singing comes from the road along with gravel grinding. A bleach blond woman with a cigarette hanging from her lips flicks a nod at us as she rolls in. She’s probably in her twenties, but given the cigarette and her overall hardass appearance, she could be fifty for all I know. She doesn’t bother putting out the cigarette as she joins us, still talking with it bobbing from her mouth.
“Becca,” she says, lips curling around the cig in a lopsided smile.
“Caleb,” he repeats.
“Jake.”
More heavy sounds come from behind me, previously drowned out by Becca’s car. “Darcy.”
I about leap out of my skin and swallow my tongue. There’s Miss Skinny-Dip, her wet hair combed back in a curly ponytail. She leads a horse on either side of her and she’s wearing clothes now: a t-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. It doesn’t do much to hide away that killer figure I already saw without a stitch on her.
“Hey!” I say a little too loud.
Then it hits me. Miss Skinny-Dip is also Miss Eyefuck from the sports bar. Right? What are the chances she looks that similar to someone else in Paint, West Virginia? The curls, the hips, those eyes. Those big brown doe eyes.
Darcy looks to be holding back a laugh as she slips past me, and I snap to attention. “Oh, let me help you, miss. I can get one of them. You shouldn’t walk two on your own.”
“Kissin’ ass right off the bat, huh, cowboy?” she teases and my face and ears go red. Becca chuckles, a dry, crackly sound and Caleb is polite enough to not make a peep. “Why don’t you take Freckle here? She’s a sweet old thing. Cane’s my troublemaker. Flunked out of the barrel circuit for being too rowdy.”
Bile rises in my throat. This is my first time handling a horse since my mom sold mine. I’m not nervous, but this moment is violently ripping off a Bandaid I thought I might have more time to process. Then again, I’m the fool who offered to help with the horses just now.
I reach for the offered lead line and get on the spotted Appaloosa’s left. Ha, “Freckle” for a spotted horse. “I can handle a troublemaker.”
Darcy puffs out her lip and rounds her eyes to condescend me. “I bet you can, cowboy. You’ll get plenty of chances to show your stuff.”
I ignore her mockery and stroke my hand down Freckle’s neck as we walk. “Good horse.”
In the cool barn, Darcy walks toward the stalls at the back. Freckle and Cane appear to be the only two horses around, though there are plenty of stalls in the barn. I wonder if there was a time when they had more horses.
“Freckle goes in that one right there,” she says, leading Cane into a far stall and cocking her head at the one next to it. I unclip Freckle and remove her halter, turning to see if there’s a spot to hang it. While my back’s turned, I feel a bump against my shoulder. I look back to see Freckle’s expectant face.
“Hi, sweet pea,” I say, turning to pet her nose. I admire the white stripe down the center of her mostly brown face. “You’re a beauty, aren’t ya?”
It’s such a great feeling being back with horses after so many years away from them. It’s not quite as gut-wrenching as I thought it would be, but nostalgia lingers at the edges of my thoughts. Freckle nuzzles my pants and I laugh. “I’ll bring you a treat next time if you’re good, okay? I gotta clear it with the boss first.”
My warm and fuzzy moment is interrupted. Darcy appears behind me with a bucket of feed, clipping it into the corner of Freckle’s stall. “Cowboy, will you go feed the dogs? Their bowls are up by the door and they get four scoops of the food in there.”
“My name’s Jake.” I resist rolling my eyes. How much longer is she going to call me “cowboy?”
She wrinkles her nose at that. “Figured. We’ve got a Becca, Jake, and Caleb. Bill told me Jake’s the horse guy.”
Oh, so she does know about me. I wonder what else she knows. Does she recognize me?
After those chores are done, Darcy dusts her hands on her jeans. “Alright, today we’ve got pruning on the peach trees, and we’re going to check some stuff with the irrigation system. One end’s almost got root rot and the other is desert dry.”
Becca and Caleb seem unaffected by Darcy’s curt manner.
“Wait, where’s Bill?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
Darcy checks her watch. “It’s Friday, so probably about to Maine by now.”
My comrades still don’t flinch. “He’s not . . . here?”
Darcy tips her head to the side. “That a problem, cowboy?”
“No, I just, I thought he was the boss.”
My throat tightens as her eyes turn murderous. Becca giggles and Caleb grimaces. Darcy scowls and I’ve never been so afraid of a five-and-a-half foot creature in my life. But there’s a flash of something beyond rage in her expression, a vulnerability.
“‘Fraid you’re stuck with me for the summer,” Darcy replies with a tight smile, blinking like she’s trying to keep from snapping my neck. “Though Bill and Maggie are blowing back through here for the Fourth of July. You can kiss his ass then. Till then, you can kiss mine.”
Becca cackles. “Oh, I like you, boss. We need to get you out drinking.”
Darcy cocks her head and smiles at Becca, a genuine thing I haven’t seen since I first saw her at the sports bar. “Aw. That sounds nice! Let’s do that. For now,” she hooks a thumb over her shoulder, “let’s load up the four-wheelers and get out to the orchard.”
I’m silent as we load up the trailers behind the two four-wheelers. Darcy hands out fresh pairs of leather work gloves.
I pull my own pair out of my back pocket. “I actually came prepared. I have some. And a pocket knife.”
“He’s a cowboy and a boy scout. My lucky day.” Darcy tosses a set of keys at Caleb. “Becca, ride with me. Boys, can you keep up?”
Darcy and Becca climb onto their four-wheeler, and Becca whispers something in Darcy’s ear that makes her chortle. They pull away in a cloud of dust and laughter.
“You coming?” Caleb asks.
I climb on behind him, resting the heels of my hands behind me. “I feel like I just fucked up.”
Caleb chuckles. “Just go easy, man. You’re trying too hard.”