8. Jake
EIGHT
JAKE
“Alright, man. It’s been good.”
I stick my head into my roommate, Stephen’s, doorway. He’s got open boxes all over the floor but sits at his desk playing World of Warcraft like always. He barely looks over at me. “You leaving?”
“Not fully. Just starting to take my stuff out to the farm.” I hold up the large duffel bag in my hand.
“Oh.”
I stand there, not really sure what to do with myself. Stephen’s been a fine roommate. He’s in the robotics program with me and smart as hell, but we don’t really vibe beyond getting our work done. When I told him I coach Little League, he pretty much shut down. I understand that a lot of my academic ilk have had an unpleasant time when it comes to jocks, but I like to think I bridge the gap between those worlds.
Stephen didn’t care to find out. We work well together on team projects, but he doesn’t want much to do with me outside of that. There are a few other guys I get along with better, but I don’t see them as much.
A real friend would say, “Jake! How was your first day on the job?” But Stephen and I are cordial acquaintances at best. He pauses his game and turns to me, slapping his thighs.
“Do you mind if I take that side table? I know it’s technically yours, but we kinda need one at my girlfriend’s place.”
I stifle a laugh. “You’re moving in with your girlfriend?”
“Yeah. Well, fiancée soon, I hope.”
“Wow, okay. Congratulations!” I’m shocked. I haven’t seen his girlfriend in probably six months and I had no idea they were still together. Stephen’s not an unattractive guy, and I guess he has some quiet charisma or something, but I wouldn’t look at him and think, “that guy’s got a way with the ladies.”
Though, I guess it’s just the one lady he has to lock down. It’s not like he’s part of some massive polycule. Or is he?
“Thanks.”
“And yeah, take the table. Where are you two living?”
“She bought a house.” I’d ask him to expand on that, but I can tell this conversation is killing him.
“Right on,” I say, bobbing my head. “Well, I guess I might see you a few times before we have to be out next week, but thanks for . . . being a good roomie.”
“Yeah. You too.”
I point at him. “See you in the fall?”
“Yep.”
I won’t lie. I’m a little butt hurt. I thought I’d be able to room with him for my last semester, but that’s clearly not on the table. It was a big cost savings for me, and I thought at the minimum, I’d have the stability of this apartment. Stephen’s out here putting a ring on it and I’m . . . coaching Little League? Getting heckled by my new boss?
What the hell am I doing with my life? And why is Stephen so much better at this than I am?
These are the thoughts that haunt me as I drive back to my new home at the peach farm.
I’ve been on some dates, and got a little reckless with a one night stand at the beginning of this school year, but I haven’t had a serious girlfriend since before I started grad school. Sierra was the classic girl back home. We always got along, and I knew I’d be home for a while. Then, I wasn’t sure if I’d do grad school. I needed to get a full ride somewhere, and I wanted to get my mom more settled. That was a mess all its own.
But Sierra and I were good. Easy. Uncomplicated. I loved her. Because we were both still living at home, our sex life wasn’t that different from two high schoolers: the back of her car, the bed of my truck, a camping trip here or there. She wanted to settle down, and I wanted to go to grad school. Once that became clear, she turned on me pretty quickly. Said I wasted her time, wasted her life. That wasn’t my goal when I started dating her, and that isn’t the kind of guy I am. I didn’t know I’d be itching to get away from Floyd at all costs within a year of being back there. Too many ghosts. Too much change. So when I got the full ride to Marshall, I was gone.
And now I’m here, driving on a gravel road not that different from the kind I grew up around, heading out to see a woman who I’m not sure if I like her bad attitude or if she’s actually mean and I don’t like her at all.
I catch the devil herself walking to the barn as the sun’s setting, wearing what appears to be barely-there volleyball shorts and a giant t-shirt that somehow looks great on her. And boots. Tan cowboy boots that show off the muscular curves of her thighs.
I think maybe everything looks great on Darcy, but judging by her attitude from earlier, she couldn’t care less what I think of her.
Funny, when she was giving me hungry eyes at that sports bar, she seemed down for anything. But today? If it would have been legal for her to run at me with her pruners, I think she might have done it.
She quirks an eyebrow into my headlights, milling around like she’s waiting to talk to me. A black cat follows on her heels and they seem comfortable together, like their relationship is prearranged. I park and she walks up to my window, which is already rolled down.
“Evening,” I say, trying to charm her and maybe make up for the fourteen stupid things I said to her today.
“What are you doing out here?”
I smirk and tilt my head. “Maybe I misunderstood your uncle, but I think this cabin is my new home.”
Her mouth flaps for a second. “No, it is. I just . . . didn’t think you’d be back today. I don’t have the beds made or anything.”
I lean my head out and look around, only finding a scruffy barn cat skittering across the barn’s opening, birds chirping their bedtime songs, and fireflies ascending from the grass to the trees. “Am I interrupting some big Friday night plans?”
She looks exhausted, finally coughing out a laugh. “I was actually just out with Becca. I lasted one drink before I realized she was on a different trajectory than I was.”
I smirk. “Should have guessed she was a party animal.”
Darcy sucks air through her teeth. “Her reputation preceded her. Her brother Dustin’s worked for our family for a long time, and he’s always worried after something or another about her. But I like her. I just have less energy than her twenty-two-year-old self.”
I rest my chin on my fist at the window’s edge. “Yeah. You’re so old, boss.”
She chuckles. “Older than you, I bet.”
“Twenty-six,” I say.
“Twenty-nine,” she says, pointing at herself. “At least we would have been in high school at the same time.”
I’m not really sure what she means by that, but it’s the friendliest she’s been yet. Does she mean we could date because we’re not too far apart in age?
“Anyway,” she says. “Let’s get you settled. I’ll go grab the key.”
The black cat follows her while I roll up my window and get out. I prop my foot on the back tire and swing my arm into the truck bed to get my duffel bag. Darcy looks amused as she heads back my way. “That your murder bag?”
“Murder bag?” I ask.
“That thing’s big enough for a body, Dahmer.”
I close my eyes and flinch. “Did you just call me Jeffrey Dahmer?”
Darcy’s grin is wicked, and I can’t decide if I can’t stand her or if it stirs me up when she ribs me like this. “Depends. Are you?”
“I think he’s dead. And I don’t look like him!”
“Bill didn’t even background check you, did he? You could be a drifter for all I know,” she says, turning more serious.
“Come on,” I say, “you have to trust a boy scout with a pocket knife.”
“Says who?” she quips and stomps up the cabin steps, pulling the screen door and using a hip to hold it open. The old wooden door creaks and the cat slides in ahead of Darcy, doing a lap around the living area.
“Excuse me? Did I say the cat could come in? What if I was allergic?”
Darcy looks only mildly concerned. “Are you?”
I scoff. “Well, no, but what if I was? What if it pees?”
“She,” Darcy sniffs, “is well trained and will not be peeing in here, right, Stormy?”
She tosses the keys on the kitchen countertop, and tests the faucet. It’s not a huge cabin, but has everything a person could need: a small living area with a TV, a basic kitchen with a cart for an island, and a hallway leading to what I assume are the beds and bath. Darcy flourishes her hands. “Well, welcome home. You can have the big bedroom since you’re first. Let me make sure you’ve got clean sheets.”
I follow her down the hallway, distracted by the sway of her hips and the way her shirt makes it look like she’s not wearing shorts from this angle. I’m so sucked in that when she stops, I run into her. “Oh, sorry.”
“Watch it, cowboy.” Her voice has softened from the vitriol earlier in the day, more a lazy joke than an accusation. She opens a small door and pulls a set of sheets off a high shelf. “I’ll put ‘em on for ya.”
Darcy turns to head into the biggest bedroom, but bumps into my chest, cocking her head back as I’m in her way. I don’t move. I don’t want to. “Excuse me?”
I let my eyes wander over her face. “I remember you, you know.”
She’s looking at where my t-shirt meets my neck, her gaze tracing along the hollow of my throat. “Do you?”
“Wednesday at that bar. You looked at me.”
Darcy’s brows furrow and her cheeks go pink. She presses the sheets to her chest and moves to go past me again. “You looked at me first.”
I step out of her way and she walks into the bedroom. She peels the sheets apart and sets the flat sheet and pillowcases on the wooden dresser. “No need to get flustered, boss. It was just a look.”
Darcy cracks the fitted sheet open and mutters, “Boss. You seem to love calling me that more than anyone.”
“You are the boss,” I say, and she rolls her eyes. “You call me cowboy.”
She extends a hand. “Well, you are a cowboy, no?”
I shake my head, not feeling like justifying my clothing choices. “Used to be, maybe.”
“You still dress like one,” she says. “Your son moving out here with you?”
I guffaw. “Son? I wasn’t aware I had kids.”
Darcy fusses with getting the fitted sheet on the far corner of the mattress, struggling to make the stretch. I put my knee on the bed and crawl to help her pull the sheet. Her eyes flash over my arms, her breath suspended. She shifts away from me after a pause, moving to tuck in the other corner. “Then what kid were you with at the restaurant?”
I laugh, nudging her back so I can pull the rest of the sheet on. “Here, I got it. No, I’m a Little League coach. That was Brayden. His mom had an emergency at work and couldn’t pick him up after practice until late. I took him to dinner because I needed to eat anyway. When we left, his mom was outside.”
Darcy stands back with her arms crossed. “Got it. So no wife or child moving in?”
I stand, reaching for the flat sheet. “No attachments any which way.”
She gives out a little “hmph” then straightens. “Well, seems like you’ve got this under control. There are heavier blankets in that closet. If you need to wash clothes, come up the house.”
She’s just about to leave when Stormy, as I’m learning is the cat’s name, jumps on my bed and curls her back up for pets. She rubs her face into my hand. “Aw, that’s a good little kitty.”
Darcy’s silent, her mouth hanging open.
“What, am I not allowed to pet your kitty? She’s practically begging for it. Nobody ever loves on you, kitty.”
Darcy’s cheeks go a deep crimson and my stomach flutters.
Add unintentional pussy jokes to the list of embarrassing things I’ve said today.
“I mean, not like that,” I try, but Darcy just slips her hand under the cat’s ribs and scoops her up.
“I should get going. Have a good night, Jake,” she mumbles. She jams her feet in her boots by the door and hops to get them on. The screen door bangs behind her and two seconds later I hear a “shit” from out in the yard. I peer out the hallway window and she’s fumbling with her phone. “Fucking battery. Son of a bitch.”
Slowly, Darcy stumbles into the dark. Her phone must have died and its flashlight along with it.
Based on her latest reaction and flying out of here like the joint was on fire, I think maybe Darcy’s having a bad day and maybe I’m the source of it. Least I can do is walk her to the house. I spy a flashlight on the dresser, grab it, and tear out the door after her, popping on my boots as quickly as I can.
“Hey, wait up!”
Darcy’s barely visible in the twilight and glow of my flashlight. Her shoulders sag and I wonder if this is all a terrible idea. I jog to catch up to her.
“Walk you home?”
Darcy softens. “Sure. Thanks. My phone just died. I charged it last night, but searching for signal all day drains it. I need to learn to carry a pocket flashlight. Maggie’d wring my neck if she knew I wasn’t.”
I press my lips together. “How long have you been out here? Or do you live out here all the time?”
“I got in last Wednesday. I’ve been alone since this Wednesday when Bill and Maggie left. Where were you before this?”
“Grad school in Huntington.”
“Marshall?” she asks, referring to Marshall University in Huntington.
“Mmhm. My lease is going to be up, so I figured I’d start moving my stuff here. What about you? Where were?—”
I’m cut off by a distressed yowl from Stormy, her dark figure zipping across the flashlight’s path. A fluffy white figure tears behind her. Suddenly, Stormy’s back in our line of vision, and Darcy’s screaming as Stormy uses her claws and the best hops I’ve ever seen on a cat to scale Darcy’s body. Then, the large, white figure pushes Darcy to the ground.
“Holy shit!” I kneel at her side, pushing the wooly white creature away. I find out it’s a dog when it pants in my ear and licks the side of my face.
“Barkley, you have no chill!” Darcy moans, her hand over her heart. “Jesus.”
I want to laugh, but she both got scratched and fell on her ass. Add that to her bad day tally. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. These two just need to learn to play nice.” She holds Stormy in front of the dog’s happily panting face. “Barkley, that means you. Stop chasing her. Y’all have to learn how to get along or this summer’s going to be the death of me.”
She sets Stormy on the ground next to her, and I look over her scratches, one of which is decently bloody. “Those look pretty bad.”
Darcy sighs. “Not my favorite thing in the world. I’ll put some cream on it at the house.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Bet you’re regretting walking me home now.”
“You kiddin’ me?” I say, putting out my hand to help her up. She accepts and we’re briefly pulled chest to chest. “Better entertainment than Friday night football.”