12. Jake
TWELVE
JAKE
“Good horse. Very nice,” I call, my voice low and even. Cane’s doing great where I’m leading him around the barn.
This morning I decided enough was enough. I’ve been here less than a week, but I need to prove to myself that I can still ride. I haven’t ridden since Mom sold my horse after Dad died. I had mixed feelings at the time. As an adult almost a decade later, I can see why she made that choice. I wasn’t showing any sign of wanting to ride again after Dad was gone. I kept Red groomed and cared for, but I didn’t have the heart to ride after we lost Dad. Rather than feeling like I’d be closer to him if I rode, I felt like I’d be betraying him somehow.
I was seventeen. It made sense at the time.
But Cane used to be a barrel horse, and I used to be a barrel racer. We’re made for each other. Now’s as good a time as any to try him out. My team’s practice got canceled tonight with too many kids out of town, and Darcy’s not back from the market yet. Becca’s gone for the day and Caleb’s posted up on our couch playing Call of Duty . I can work out whatever feelings might come up without an audience.
I tack Cane up, and he seems shifty. I wonder if I’m just giving off a bad vibe with my own nerves or if this is that attitude that got him thrown out of barrel racing. I talk to him in soothing tones as I tighten the cinch, then hitch my foot into the stirrup and swing my leg over to mount him. He shuffles from side to side when I grip the reins, not happy with me riding him.
“Whoa,” I tell him. Cane stops for a moment, but before I can dig my calves into his side to urge him forward, he takes off for the ring outside the barn.
This was not in the plans, but I’ll roll with it. I lead him to take the circle at whatever pace he wants. My heart’s pounding, and I’m trying to stay as cool as I can so he’ll follow suit. Just as we start to settle into a more regular rhythm, Darcy’s truck pulls in on the other side of the barn.
Cane does not like that one bit. Before I have a chance to register what’s happening, I’m flying through the air, landing on my left hip.
“Fuck,” I groan. I need to get up fast, and get him under control. Except I don’t need to because Cane’s already slowed to stop, waiting by the fence.
I hear my name and spy Darcy sprinting through the barn. Dust kicks up behind her where she runs, dropping to her knees at my side. “Are you alright?”
Her usual wit and sarcasm is gone, her eyes concerned while she checks me over. I wince as I shift to my other hip and she shushes me. “Careful, careful. What hurts?”
“Just my ass,” I grunt out.
“You sure?” she asks, gently patting my face like somehow falling off a horse would have given me a fever. It feels nice to be fussed over, so I’m not complaining.
“Yeah. I’m alright. Just my ass and my pride.”
“I’m glad that’s all it is.” She snorts and shakes her head. “Told you he’s a troublemaker.”
I huff. “That you did.”
I cut my eyes up to hers, and notice they’re red-rimmed and puffy like she’s been crying. I should really be asking if she’s alright.
“Sorry. You probably don’t need me to rub it in.” She stands and extends her arms down to me. “Need a hand?”
I wave her off and stand on my own, my hip throbbing. That’ll make a nice bruise. Darcy approaches Cane and grabs his reins, her voice soft and dare I say affectionate. “You show ol’ cowboy your tricks, huh? Let’s get you set up to go out for the night.”
“Here, I’ll help,” I say. “I’ll get Freckle.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve told you before, you already work too many hours.”
“And I’ve told you, boss, that I’m the horse guy. Let me do horse stuff for you.”
The look in her eyes begets no argument. “Go get some ice on that hip. I’m not taking them far today.”
The peach farm has several pastures, most of which are a five- or ten-minute walk from the barn. There’s a closer pasture we haven’t used since I’ve been here, and I assume that’s the one she means. I linger and she shoos me on. “Git. Go on home. There’s ice packs in the freezer for injuries. I’ll check on you when I come back this way.”
* * *
I’m sitting on an ice bag on the couch with a video game controller in my hand when there’s a soft knock at the cabin door.
“It’s open!” Caleb shouts, then sits up, trying to take me down in Call of Duty .
“Hi,” Darcy calls. “Came to check on the daredevil.” There’s a soft slap when her boots hit the linoleum by the door.
“He’s just a little bruised up,” Caleb says.
Darcy rounds the corner and covers her eyes. “Jesus! I don’t know how y’all play that stuff. It’s so violent.”
She turns her face behind her hands, looking me over. When her eyes land on my underwear, she jolts again and her cheeks match her red eyes. “I didn’t know I was interrupting a pajama party.”
Caleb cackles. “Jake’s peacocking for you pulling his peacock out like that.”
I loll my head at him. “It’s bigger than a pea. And my cock is not out. I’m covered. I just needed fewer layers for the ice. Shorts would have been too thick.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Darcy giggles. “I’m no EMT, but I’ve seen a bruise or two in my day. Mind if I take a look?”
My ass hurts like hell but I can’t help but crack jokes. “I was going to wait a little longer to show you the goods, boss, but if you insist.”
Darcy rolls her eyes and pads my way, kneeling next to the couch. She points at the leg of my boxer briefs. “May I?”
“Sure. Caleb, pause it.” I shift off my ice pack and Darcy gently peels up the leg. I hiss as the hem digs into the bruise. She jumps back, withdrawing her hands like I bit her. “Here. No need to be uptight about it.”
I lower the waistband, leaving my dick covered but one whole butt cheek out.
“Oh, geez, okay I guess someone’s not bashful,” she says. The bruise distracts her fast enough. Darcy’s brows lower and she whistles. “Oh, buddy, that’s a bad one. You sure it’s not broken?”
She presses a gentle finger around the edges and I squirm away from her. She attempts to soothe me by laying her other hand on my stomach, right where my hip flexors make a divot above my pelvis.
Dangerously close to the good stuff. I know she’s not thinking about that and I don’t want to draw her attention to it. She’ll freak. Plus, it feels nice to have her hands on me. Her fingertips brush the hair trailing down the center of my stomach.
“I’ll live,” I say.
She lets out a sympathetic whimper and shakes her head. “You shouldn’t work tomorrow if you’re sore.”
With tender precision, she slips her fingers under my underwear’s waistband and pulls it back into place. This time, she seems to realize where her hands have been. Her cheeks flame again, her eyes downcast.
“It’s just my ass, boss,” I say. “You know I’m not afraid to show you my ass.”
I expect her to laugh a little at the joke, but her eyes cut to mine and her voice drops. “You scared me. I’m glad you’re okay.”
A tingle passes through me, something bone deep but undefined. My defenses are helpless against those big doe eyes. I want to hold her hand. I want her to stay right here. I want to hold her .
“I’m okay,” I assure her.
“Next time, you’ll tell somebody you’re going to ride, right? No more flying solo?”
“Yes, boss,” I say.
“Okay.” She presses her lips together until they’re white and stands. “I need to eat. I should get on home.”
Her stricken face from earlier returns and she stretches her jaw. I wonder what made her cry before I saw her. She’s clearly upset again. My chest aches thinking about Darcy going through some deeper turmoil. All I want to do is fix it.
Caleb and I exchange a look, a conversation passing between us like we’re an old couple. “Stay,” Caleb says. “I’ll turn this off and we can play Mario Kart . I’ll make you a pack of my famous ramen.”
“Yeah, stay,” I agree. “Hang out. What are you going to do in that big house by yourself?”
A weak smile curves her lips. “Be an old cat lady.”
Caleb boos, and I join in. We start a chant of “stay, stay, stay.”
“Fine,” she concedes. “But I get to be Luigi.”
* * *
“Who launched that shell?!” Darcy shrieks. She sits at my feet on the other end of the couch. She’s doing that thing of steering her character with her entire body instead of just using the buttons on the controller. It’s endearing to see her this playful when she’s usually either sad or grouchy.
“How the tables turn,” Caleb taunts her, then immediately spins out on a banana peel.
“Ha! Karma!” she gloats.
Meanwhile, I purposely let myself fall behind in the game so it would give me the ultimate legal cheat on the last lap: Bullet Bill. I use it to blast in front of Darcy in second place and Caleb in first.
“Hey!” Darcy objects. “Was that you?”
“What?” Caleb shouts. “No! No! How did?—”
We cross the finish line in a perfect one-two-three, with me as number one. Darcy’s enraged eyes turn on me and Caleb lets out a “the fuck, man.”
“You have to let me win. I’m injured,” I simper.
“You injured yourself!” Darcy cries. “I told you that horse was a dick!”
“Think the word you used was ‘troublemaker,’” Caleb points out.
“I was being polite,” Darcy says. “I didn’t want to scare y’all off on day one. I kinda need you.”
“Aww,” Caleb says, patting his heart. “Precious.”
The replay of our race rolls on the screen. Darcy bends to get a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto out of Caleb’s bag on the coffee table.
She cocks her head. “Speaking of, Caleb, why did you give up working in the air conditioning at the hardware store to come sweat your ass off out here?”
He shrugs. “More money. Free rent. And I’ve worked at the hardware store since high school. Three years. This is something different before I start a plumbing program in August. Build up my strength a little bit. See the sun. Plenty of reasons.”
She puffs her lip out. “I love that. What about you, Jake? How the hell did you find my uncle?”
I chuckle. “Google and desperation. I’m a grad student in robotics and my robot is a fruit picker. I needed somewhere to test it and this is a fruit farm, you know?”
“But you grew up on a fruit farm. Why not test it there?”
I focus on the screen, toggling between race course options for our next round. “Complicated. This is closer to school. That, the money, the free rent, my roommate bailing on me. It all just kinda fell into place.”
“Y’all think this is destiny?” Caleb asks.
We exchange a look between the three of us. “Maybe,” Darcy says. I’m tempted to ask why she left the job with the hockey team to come back here. But her quick subject change tells me this part of the conversation is over. “Rainbow Road? Please?”