Chapter 36 #2
When we arrive, he starts the engine and puts the radio on, leaving it on the country station I like. I know he’s a fan of hard music, which is why I switched the channel the moment I sat down—I don’t think I could take a ride of screaming and heavy metal.
“I don’t want to be mean, but how on earth do you stand that music you usually listen to?”
“Which one?” He glances at me curiously.
“That yelling and screeching I sometimes hear from your open windows.” I wince, recalling the last time I heard the sound coming out of his cracked open window while he was also drilling something in the house at the same time. “I would never peg you as a metalhead.”
He lets out a surprised laugh. “What would you have pegged me for?”
I wince, embarrassed. “Well, maybe it was a poor word choice, but I see you as a soft country boy driving your truck with your arm sticking out of the open window.”
He sends me a quick look with a raised brow up to his hairline. “Soft?”
I giggle. “Not like soft soft, but your music choice doesn’t match, well,” I wave my hand at him, “you.”
“How so?”
“You know what I mean!” I nearly cry out, feeling like I should put a foot in my mouth rather than open this can of worms.
“I don’t,” he chuckles.
“Jericho,” I growl. “C’mon. Stop torturing me.”
His loud sigh darkens the mood of the day. “That music drowns everything out better than anything else does.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can manage to say, wondering what could trouble him so much.
And I’m not sure if he’s talking about drowning out literal sounds or something that haunts a person in their own mind.
I want to ask more, but he’s already parked in his driveway, and neither of us make an attempt to leave the car.
“I should…” I start.
“Yeah,” he says, too fast.
More silence until it becomes clear that nothing will be happening, and staying here is asking for more embarrassment. So I grab the handle?—
His hand lands on my shoulder, and he turns me around and pulls me to him. I instantly lick my lips in a silent invitation, and his eyes dip to my mouth.
I taste him a moment later. Our breath mingles, becoming one. Coffee, warmth, and crisp winter air.
The kiss stops just as fast as it began.
“See you around,” he rasps while his eyes are still focused on my lips.
I nod and climb out of his car, feeling my legs shake. Jericho has this ability of turning me into jelly with just a quick touch of his body to mine.
A shiver runs down my back when I imagine the touch of the rest of his body. It will probably be earth-shattering.
I take a few deep breaths before walking up my front steps. The light in the kitchen is on which means Grandma’s laser eyes will be meeting me. I was hoping she’d spend a little more time in the diner, giving me the opportunity to get my shit together.
She’s there in the kitchen, humming and starting the coffee machine. A bag of whole, highly caffeinated beans is on the table.
“Grandma!” I cry out, making her nearly jump. I’m ready to start this years-long battle when she attacks me first.
“You got kissed.” She points the measuring spoon at me.
“Grandma!” I cry out again, embarrassed for some reason. I’m twenty-five years old, for fuck’s sake. Why am I ashamed of her mentioning a simple kiss? Even though it was anything but simple.
She doesn’t press, just quickly pours another spoonful of beans inside the machine and presses the button. I could wrestle her for access to the machine, but it would be ridiculous.
I’m looking between her and the machine and find her watching me with a silently raised brow as if she’s asking me if I want to go down that road with her.
Sighing loudly in defeat, I head upstairs to get changed for the closing shift at the diner.
I put on my amethyst necklace and stare at myself in the mirror as I press my fingers to my lips like they might still hold the shape of him.
I don’t know what this is. But I want more of it. This game of push and pull. I didn’t know I’d like it so much. It’s like I’m savoring the anticipation of something big. Something wonderful. And I have to wait to get it.
The moon is out as I pull back into the driveway, and for once the rooster isn’t screeching from his usual post.
I frown and glance around, missing the feathery little shit for some inexplicable reason.
Then I hear something—a pecking sound behind our porch. I wonder if the disloyal bastard is back, so I carefully tiptoe around the corner.
And come to a sudden halt.
Grandma’s crouched down in the grass, shaking a bag of cracked corn while mumbling something under her breath like she’s summoning spirits.
The rooster is standing two feet from her, proud and impatient, like this has been their deal all along.
He’s not running away from her, and what’s more important—she’s not chasing him.
“Grandma,” I say slowly.
She jumps, straightens, and spins around like she just got caught buying contraband.
“Oh,” she giggles. “You startled me.”
“I bet.”
She laughs. “You’re very quiet.”
“And you are very sneaky.” I pointedly look at the rooster who’s standing in the same spot, watching our interaction with his impudent beady eyes. “Are you feeding him?”
She glances at the bag, then at the rooster, who is now pecking at her slipper.
“Define feeding, my dear.”
I cross my arms and nearly growl, “Grandma.”
“What?”
“Have you been feeding him this whole time?” My tone is accusatory, and rightfully so.
“Me? Feeding Reginald?” She huffs. “No-o-o.”
“Reginald?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You named the rooster Reginald?”
“Seemed fitting. He’s such a proud creature,” she replies, beaming at her little monster.
“I haven’t properly slept because of your creature for months.”
“You haven’t slept because you needed to get laid,” she throws back, pouring more food on the ground.
“Grandma!” I cry out in horror.
“What?” Her big, watery eyes look so innocent, like she didn’t just say what she did. “I just worry about them eggs of yours.”
Now pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. “Why is everyone so worried about my eggs?”
“We just love you, that’s all.”
I lift my face to the sky with a loud groan. “So you’re the reason he keeps showing up, aren’t you?”
“Are you talking to me or the Almighty?”
Whipping my head toward her, I find her watching me with a highly amused look on her face.
“What?” she chuckles. “What was I supposed to do? Kick him out?”
“Yes!” I cry out, throwing my hands in the air and completely forgetting about my problems since Grandma has just introduced me to another one. The rooster is never leaving, I just know that.
“Can’t do. He was a creature in need.” My peace-loving grandmother looks like she’s ready to beat her fist to her chest. “He showed up one morning at Cheryl’s place,” she starts, looking at the rooster lovingly. “He looked so skinny that my heart couldn’t take it. So I invited him over.”
“You invited him over?”
She shrugs. “He reminded me of Jake.”
I snort, imagining Jake hearing about that.
“You know,” she continues. “Such a proud cock.”
I choke on the air. “Grandma!”
“So, yes, I invited the cock over,” she laughs. “Sue me.”
“I won’t, but let’s not tell anyone else this story.”
I drop onto the bench beside the porch, wishing I had thicker pants because my butt freezes instantly while the rooster hops up and perches next to me, puffed up like he knows we are talking about how much of a proud cock he is.
“I guess we have a town mascot now,” I announce, side-eyeing the bird.
“Every great place does,” Grandma says, tossing the last of the corn on a spot that’s been cleared of snow.
The rooster lets out a pleased little crow and jumps on the ground.
And somehow, in the middle of all this weirdness, I feel… okay. Settled even. Like maybe I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder for things to go wrong.
Because I have my family and my diner. And a rooster with an odd name. And a man who kisses like he means it—even if he walks away before I can breathe again.