Chapter 7
Eli
“Hey! I’m parked here!” The weird mechanical beeping got louder as the semi backed closer to my truck.
“What are you doing? Stop!”
He wasn’t gonna stop.
Right before impact, I realized why it sounded off. Not a truck. It was my alarm. Shit! I bolted up and checked the clock. Double shit!
Shoving into a pair of jeans, I hopped my way to the door. Don’t be too late. I thundered barefoot down the stairs of my garage studio, through the garage, and stopped short in the mudroom.
Marley’s voice echoed from the front door. “Can I help you?” Must be an unspoken rule that teenage girls had to act like DMV employees before their lunch break.
“… truck won’t start.”
Ava!
I grabbed a t-shirt from the dryer and shook out the wrinkles as I passed through the kitchen.
“Oh, that’s convenient,” Marley was saying. “It got you here, but suddenly it won’t start?” Seventeen. Acting like hot shit. She looked older, especially with all that make-up on her eyes, but as soon as she opened her mouth …
“It needed a jump yesterday, too. We … Is Eli here?”
“Let ‘em in, Mar!” I skidded to the door, still pulling my shirt over my head.
“Ugh.” You could hear Marley’s eye roll. “And you complain about my shorts! Whatever. You asked for it.”
She stalked past, and I didn’t mention the crescents the entire world could see under the hemline of her so-called “shorts.” Hell, half her shirt was missing, too. I can’t believe my aunt let her pierce her belly button.
I turned to Ava. “Hey! You’re here.” The color on her cheeks reminded me of strawberry lemonade. “Ignore Marley,” I said. “She’s not a morning person.”
“I can hear you!” Marley shouted from the kitchen.
Nina clung to Ava’s upper half, peeking at me through messy black hair.
I pushed the door wide open. “Are you hungry? Come in.”
“Actually, if we could just get another jump start …” Ava’s eyes searched over my shoulder, and I realized she must’ve been worried about Dad.
That made two of us.
The crazy part? He’d probably love someone like her, dressed all business-y. Even with the wrinkles–another thing we now had in common. The sun seemed extra bright for once, and I didn’t want her to go.
She must’ve caught me staring because she looked down at her clothes and smoothed a hand over her skirt. “Too formal for breakfast?” That full bottom lip tipped into a tight smile.
I wanted more.
“I probably look wrinkled and ridiculous,” she said.
“No, you look ...” Gorgeous? Come on, Eli. Play it cool. This wasn’t a date. “You look ready for breakfast.”
“I just need a jump.”
I went to fix my hat, but my hand hit hair, and I realized I’d left it upstairs. “If the battery isn’t holding a charge,” I said, “you’ll just get stuck at your next stop.” And I’d be back to long, thankless days in the sun and nighttime standoffs with Dad. “Where are you headed?”
“To get my purse.”
“From Mr. Mercedes?”
She nodded, shifting Nina to the other hip.
I wondered if her arms ever got tired. “You should get a new battery before you stop again.” I leaned back, glancing through the wide opening into the kitchen, at the clock on the wall.
“Shops aren’t open yet.” And some sales guy would try to upsell her some fancy-ass hunk of lead.
“Why don’t you grab something to eat first?
A cup of coffee? I’ll look up a battery for you. ”
Marley clanked in the kitchen, reminding me that breakfast was more of a punishment than a promise.
Ava hesitated.
I stepped back. “You coming in, or what?”
She grimaced. “Or what.”
“At least get some coffee.”
Her eyes skated toward the kitchen. “Fine.”
I closed the door before she changed her mind and caught her gawking straight back at the living room.
“Wow.”
As far as views went, I guess “wow” said it best. Dad had this giant-ass window instead of a wall so he could stare at the big red mountain behind the house.
It was the one good thing about the room.
Better than the stiff brown leather couch and fancy flat stone fireplace.
It felt stuffy. More like a hotel lobby than the house I grew up in.
Ava walked through the entryway, past the top landing of the stairs that took you to the den, straight back to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Rusty mountains and a forget-me-not sky.” At least, I think that’s what she said. “No wonder you picked this spot.”
“Dad picked it.”
“Well, he did good. He should send in for a spread in Better Homes and Gardens.”
I had no idea what that meant. “Kitchen’s this way.” I ticked my head to the side, then led them into the smell of … burning?
Marley stood at the stove, sour-faced, beating the inside of a pot with a wooden spoon. All she needed was a pointy black hat.
I came up next to her. “What. Is that?”
“Oatmeal!”
I shook my head, smiling. This kid. She made me crazy, but I wouldn’t trade her. “Only you.”
Ava’s eyes grew two sizes as she scanned the kitchen.
She’d put Nina down, and the kid was grabbing at her skirt.
I tried to see what Ava saw, but it was just a bunch of black and white to me.
The only thing with any personality was the old scratched-up kitchen table.
Though why Dad got a twelve-footer for one man made no sense.
“Oh my gosh!” she said. “The light! These countertops! Those cabinets! It’s like walking into a centerfold!”
“A what now?”
“A–” Red bled into her cheeks. “I mean–it’s gorgeous. The kitchen.” She tugged at her skirt, which, thanks to Nina’s fussing, had crept up to mid-thigh. “Nina, stop that.”
Who knew kitchens could be sexy? I patted Marley’s stiff shoulder and moved to the large center island.
Just for kicks, I dragged my finger along the black marble.
Ava’s eyes followed the trail. Interesting.
Maybe it was kinda sexy. For a kitchen counter.
My fingers curled into a fist, derailing that train.
I squatted in front of Nina. “Morning, kiddo! You hungry?”
She watched me through narrow slits.
“We have cereal, apples–”
“And oatmeal,” Marley interjected.
“I want a banana,” Nina blurted.
Ava squeezed the kid’s hand. “I told you I’d get one later.”
“Banana, huh?” I stood. “I think I can find one of those. Ava, how do you take your coffee?”
She gave me the same suspicious once over, but my patience paid off. “Splash of milk.”
The white swirl in her cup evened out by the time I exited the pantry with the bananas. I held out her drink. “One coffee for the not-real-estate-agent.”
She carefully looped her fingers into the handle. “Thanks.”
I pulled a banana free from the bunch. “And one monkey snack for Short Stop, here.”
Nina wrapped her little fingers around it, and it killed me–she reminded me of those baby gorillas on the Discovery Channel.
Ava nudged her. “What do you say?”
“Peas!”
“Other one, baby.”
“Fank you!”
Can this kid get any cuter?
I pulled another banana from the knot and held it out to Ava. “Want one?”
“No, thank you.”
I shrugged, peeled it, and took a huge bite.
Her eyes zeroed in on my mouth.
“You sure?”
“N-no. I mean, yes. I’m sure.”
“Am I making this oatmeal for nothing?” Marley slammed the wooden spoon on the counter, but it bounced and rained oats before landing on the floor.
Silence followed.
Then Ava surprised me. “I’ll have some.”
Bold. Brave. “Your call,” I muttered, despite my utter respect. ‘Course, she’d never had Marley’s cooking. I took another bite of banana, and she definitely watched me swallow it.
Light from outside made the room glow-y. The sun was definitely brighter. But that’s when I noticed a lack of Toyota Corollas out front.
Shit.
“Mar, have you seen Nick?”
She shrugged.
“Sorry,” I told Ava. “I’ll be right back.”
I left through the front door and jogged to the empty barn.
Empty except for a bunch of hungry horses and mountains of manure.
Of all the days. Phone to my ear, I marched back to the house, but he didn’t pick up.
“Nick, man. Where are you? Bright and early, remember? This was your last chance. Hope you’re on your way. ”
I stopped for a second on the porch, dragged my hands down my face, already hearing Dad's, “I told you so.” Maybe I could take care of this before he made an appearance.
Back in the kitchen, Nina and Ava sat at the table, and Marley stood at her cauldron. “Mar, I need you on mucking.”
“What? No!” Tan globs went flying when she spun to attack me with her death stare. “You said if I cook, I don’t have to muck.” She stabbed the gooey spoon at me. “You said I suck at mucking!”
“What? No, I didn’t.”
Marley dropped her voice into a dopey drawl. “You realize the point of mucking is to take the poop out of the horse pen.”
“Is that supposed to be me?”
She jammed her spoon at a bubble rising in the pot. “Since you’re so picky, you do it.”
Why did everything have to be so dramatic with her? “I can’t. I gotta fix the gate before boarders come.”
“What boarders?” Marley snarked.
Good point.
Ava was watching me. I shoved my fingers through my hair. It needed a cut. “Fine. Okay.” I could figure this out.
Then Dad walked in, and all the air in the room went out.
He had on his brown cowboy boots, Levi’s, and same-as-ever golf polo. “Eli, a word?”
Great, I was hoping to hit rock bottom by breakfast. For a man who didn’t want to muck, he sure dressed the part. I followed him around the corner to the souless living room. “Dad, before you say–”
“Eli …” He stretched out my name, looking to the heavens like he hoped Mom might jump in.
“She needs help with her truck. And she’s got a kid,” I said, even though he didn’t ask. “I told her to come in for breakfast.”
“This isn't a B&B for humans, it’s a B&B for horses.”
“I know.”
“And that fifth wheel is for our ranch manager.”
“Which we don’t have yet,” I reminded him.
“The way you’re going, we aren’t going to have one.”
“I’m happy to leave, anytime.”
He crossed his arms. The floor creaked under his weight. “Look, I don’t care what you do in your personal time. I’m not asking you to be celibate–”
“Will you stop it!” I cut a glance at the wall separating us from the kitchen. “That’s not what this is.”
“All I’m saying is, keep it separate. You’re here to work.”
As if I needed reminding. I held his stare. “They needed help. It’s what Mom woulda done.”
“Yeah, well, she’d be doing a lot of other things around here, too.” His eyebrows lifted. A challenge.
This was why I stayed away.
Dad started toward the kitchen. I threw my hand out to stop him. “Uh, since you got your boots on.” He was already ticked at me, what could it hurt? “Can you muck?”
His eyes went skyward again. “Lord, help me, Eli.” For a non-religious man, he seemed to pray a lot. “Luke?” he asked.
“No, Nick.”
“I told you. I told you when you brought them on–”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve already dealt with it. I get it.”
But he didn’t. These kids needed something to stay outta trouble, and I knew the ranch could give it to them. Well, maybe not Nick, not anymore.
Dad was shaking his head.
“You want to do the gate instead?” I asked.
His lips got thin, and he turned his head to the side, as if looking at me offended him. “Just fix it. The darn thing’s near impossible to open.”
Good. Done. Fine. I turned before he loaded on another lecture. He followed me silently into the kitchen, not bothering to hide the once-over he gave Ava and Nina. To her credit, Ava didn’t even flinch. I considered introducing them, but Dad didn’t seem interested in knowing more.
He went to the coffee pot. “Get me an egg, will ya?”
I opened the fridge and came out with leftover bacon and two hard-boiled eggs. Marley scraped the sides of the pot and glared at me. For a second, I almost gave in, but then I remembered the last time I buckled. My stomach hurt for days.
I spun Dad’s egg on the counter next to him. He missed the hellfire in Marley’s eyes while he was busy peeling it.
“Who the hell am I making this oatmeal for? Seriously?”
“Hey,” I said. “Watch your language. There’s a kid in the room.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Where’s the rainbow-pooping unicorn I’m making this oatmeal for?”
Props for creativity. “Sorry, Mar, I gotta get that gate fixed. Ava, can you hang for a few?”
She shrugged.
Yeah, it was a cheap move. Where could she go with a dead battery?
“Uncle Bill?” Marley asked, sounding like she lost her dog. “Oatmeal?”
Dad shoved half his egg in his mouth. “Sorry, kid. Stalls won’t muck ’emselves.”
For once, we agreed on something.