Chapter Four
Jo
“ L ochlan, this is terrible. It’s not going to work,” I admit, pacing back and forth in his kitchen.
“I warned you,” he reminds me.
“I know, but no one can work under these conditions. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.”
“I avoid it,” he shrugs, shaking the mouse of his computer for the twentieth time.
We’ve spent an hour attempting to log into his email because the computer lagged so long while booting up.
It’s only my second day on the job, and I’m ready to throw the ancient device out the window.
“My laptop is in my car, I’ll use it while I’m working. I’ll accomplish everything ten times faster.”
He sighs and leans against the counter.
His air of confidence is completely different in here, around the paperwork, compared to how he holds himself outside in front of his men.
He doesn’t act like he has everything under control in here like he does outside.
“You’re asking me to do a job here, and I can’t do it on this computer. Let me use my laptop, it’s no problem, really. ”
“Fine.” I move to go get it, and he holds up his hand to stop me.
“I’ll get it. Where is it?”
“It’s in my backpack, in the passenger seat.” He nods and goes outside to retrieve it, and I move his notepad of logins and passwords over to the kitchen table from the computer desk.
“Why is your backpack so heavy?” He asks, setting it in one of the empty chairs.
“I have all my textbooks in there.” I pull out my laptop and fire it up while he stands a few feet away watching me.
“Why don’t you leave them at home?”
“In case I need them.”
“You need all of your books every day?”
“Well, no. Not usually.”
He looks at me curiously, but doesn’t push it.
We’ve only exchanged surface-level conversations for the past two days, nothing past the information I need to do my job here.
A part of me is bursting to tell him the real reason that I needed this job, but only because I have no one else to talk to about it.
“Oh my God,” I mutter once I’m logged into his account.
“What?”
“You have thousands of unread emails.”
“I hate being on the computer.”
“Why don’t you check them on your phone, then?”
“I use a flip phone.”
“You, what?!”
He pulls out his phone from his back pocket and flips it open to prove his point, and I can’t pick my jaw off the floor.
I didn’t know they even sold those anymore.
I knew he was older than me, but that’s practically elderly of him .
“Okay, on your to-do list. Buy a new phone, buy a new computer. Pronto.”
“Get me the money for a security system and I’ll make those my next priorities,” he mutters, unconvinced.
“Once you have a security system, you’ll be able to watch live footage from your phone, open and close the gate on command, track people, bears, anything and everything,” I argue.
“Fine.” He pulls out a sticky note and writes, ‘get smartphone.’
I snatch the pale yellow paper from his hand before he sticks it to his “bulletin board,” which is a corner of his counter with six other sticky notes with random to-do items.
I cross out smartphone and write, ‘iPhone’.
“If you’re going to get a new phone, you should keep up with the times.” I hand the paper back with the sticky end attached to the tip of my finger.
“Now I know how the guys feel when I’m up their asses,” he mumbles, sticking the note to the counter.
Maybe I should be offended, but I’m not.
This is exactly why I am here and what I’m good at.
Before I decided to pursue engineering, I knew how to organize and run things like the best of them.
Parties, charities, and campaign events.
I didn’t want to do it for the rest of my life, but I strived to be the best at it regardless.
“My parents don’t know I’m going to school for engineering,” the words blurt out of my mouth before I can stop them after a few minutes of silence.
“Why?” He grunts.
Most of his conversation with me is one-syllable responses, but I’ve gotten used to it.
“They wanted me to go into Political Science, but I didn’t want to. We compromised on Public Relations for my undergrad, but when it was time to apply for grad school, I went behind their backs and changed my major. That’s why I carry all my books in my book bag. I don’t want them to know because they’ll make me quit.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t want me to go to grad school at all. They said it was a waste of time.”
Lochlan’s furrowed brow deepens, and he crosses his arms.
“Because?”
I’ve said too much, I know it, but the way he’s looking at me makes me want to spill my guts.
He looks like he’ll be mad at me for keeping a secret from him, even though we’re nowhere near that level of familiarity.
My mother assumes I’ll be someone’s housewife, and my father can’t grasp that I would do anything that doesn’t benefit him.
“It’s silly, just differing opinions. I’ll tell them eventually,” I say instead, trying to reverse out of the pothole I just stepped into.
His eyes darken, but he doesn’t press me further.
“Leave your books here.” He walks out of the kitchen and out of the house without a farewell, cutting off our conversation completely.
I go back to checking his email and sorting through what needs immediate attention and what can be deleted, but my mind can’t erase the way his eyes looked when I told him about my parents.
It was disapproval.
I don’t want him to think that I’m a liar or can’t be trusted.
No more conversation regarding my personal life.
I’m here to get a paycheck, and that’s it.
* * *
Over the next few weeks, it’s more of the same.
I go through emails, respond to what I can, and leave notes for Lochlan to fill me in on later.
I pay bills and have organized all of his paperwork.
As I’m reading through the mail that he left on the table, I notice ‘URGENT’ stamped on one of the envelopes.
It’s from a Mayor Randall Porter with Langston’s seal, the city just down the mountain.
That can’t be good.
I slice open the envelope and start reading, piecing the information together as best as I can.
—
To whom it may concern:
Current records show your rehabilitation license has expired.
A reinstatement application will need to be submitted and approved by the relevant licensing authority.
Failure to do so or practicing while the license is expired will lead to disciplinary action.
State and Local agencies need copies of your records, or further action will be taken.
Submit documentation by the date posted.
—
Yep.
Not good.
The date posted on the header is for three days from now.
I should tell Lochlan about this asap, but I never leave the house.
I park right out front, walk inside, and stay inside the entirety of my time working.
He told me not to wander around, but this seems really important.
Walking across the gravel lot outside is getting more difficult now that we’ve had rain.
The dirt is softer, even muddy in some spots.
I have to dodge and leap to avoid sinking into the ground and ruining my shoes.
I find a particularly dry gravelly spot and stop before I reach the big barn and the other outbuildings.
I don’t actually know where Lochlan is.
He told me not to go into the bunkhouse.
He also said the old barn is off limits, so that helps narrow down my options, but it only gets muddier the farther I get from the house.
“Something I can help you with, ma’am?” A man’s voice startles me as he steps out of the bunkhouse.
It’s a young guy, maybe even younger than I am.
He has a hat on and a hooded sweatshirt, but I can see fingerless gloves covering his hands.
It’s not cold enough for gloves, but they also don’t look equipped for cold weather.
The material is almost spandex, looking like compression socks would be.
“I’m looking for Lochlan.”
“He’s out mending fences, I can get him on the radio for you.” He pulls out an old-fashioned handheld radio and starts talking, but I’m distracted by his hands.
The exposed parts of his fingers are scarred and discolored.
He notices where my attention is, and he turns his back.
The heat rises in my cheeks with embarrassment.
It’s rude to stare.
I know better than that.
I should apologize, but that would only draw more attention to something he clearly doesn’t want to be seen.
“And, I thought boss man had you locked away in that house of his.” Another guy walks out of the bunkhouse, and I recognize him as Frank, the guy I saw on my first day.
“I’ve been pretty busy,” I respond politely.
I don’t feel the same ease around Frank as I do the younger one.
“I’m surprised a pretty thing like you would want to work with a man like Lochlan ,” he clicks his tongue, enunciating his name like a curse word, and not taking the hint that I’m trying not to engage with him.
“Everything has been great so far.”
“You’re not worried about the allegations.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He smirks at me.
He knows that I know what he means.
“You let me know if he gives you any trouble, sugar.” He winks, and it’s the least endearing thing ever.
I know about Lochlan Dane’s past, and I’d still choose to be alone in a room with him over this guy any day.
“Frank, leave her alone. He’s on his way, he said to meet him at the house,” the younger guy says, stepping around Frank.
“Aren’t you a good boy, Curtis. Maybe he’ll give you a cookie.” Frank scoffs but doesn’t leave.
“I’ll walk you up there,” Curtis murmurs, ignoring Frank, and I’m glad not to be left alone.
“Thank you. I appreciate your help,” I tell him quietly as I struggle up the slight hill of the dirt lot.
“It’s none of my business, but I agree with the rule about us leaving you alone. Some of them are a little rough around the edges, Frank especially.”
“I shouldn’t have left the house. It’s my fault.”
“You shouldn’t have to work in exile. There are enough good ones here, we’ll keep an eye on you. Don’t worry.” He stops and doesn’t follow me up the steps of the porch.
“We’re not allowed in the house.”
“Oh, okay. Well, thank you again.”
“He’ll be here any minute, I’ll make sure Frank isn’t going to bother you. Have a good day, ma’am.”
“You can call me Jo.”
“Alright, Jo. See you around.” He nods his head, and I watch him walk back to the bunkhouse.
“I told you to stay in the house,” Lochlan’s voice comes from behind me.
He must’ve come in the back way.
The porch wraps all the way around, so he was able to sneak up on me.
He’s wearing a worn pair of work pants and a dark long-sleeved shirt smeared with dirt.
He stuffs faded work gloves into his back pocket and looks at me expectantly.
“I have something important for you to see.” I hold up the envelope, and he looks at it only a moment before returning his gaze to me.
There’s a standoff, neither of us acknowledging that I broke the rule about wandering.
He glances at my shoes and sees the mud before inhaling deeply, exasperated by me.
“What’s so important?”
“There’s an urgent notice about renewing your rehab license. It’ll need to be put in the mail by the end of the day.”
He blinks a few times and then walks into the house without a word.
When I catch up to him in the kitchen, he’s ringing out a damp paper towel.
“Sit.”
My butt plops into a chair immediately.
“Here.” He hands me the paper towel and proceeds to open and shut a few drawers in the built-in cabinet next to the table.
I’m still holding the wet towel when he glances at me.
“For your shoes.”
“Oh, thanks.” I wipe the drying mud off the edges of my tan pumps before cleaning the thin heel.
He sets a stack of certificates down on the table next to me and leaves again without saying goodbye, which I’m becoming quite accustomed to.
So when he pops back up behind me a few minutes later, it makes me jump.
“Take off for the day,” he says after my heart returns to normal rhythm and I seal the envelope.
“Are you sure? I was just going to drop it off when I left at 5.”
“I need to fix something on the opposite side of the property, and I can’t trust that you’ll stay inside for the next few hours.”
“I didn’t go down by the barns for fun, I was looking for you because this seemed important.”
“That’s the third urgent notice I’ve received this year. They keep losing my paperwork, conveniently.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t need my guys distracted by the Princess of North Carolina strutting around.”
That smacks me right in the face.
Hearing that nickname come out of his mouth so unprovoked rips right through me.
That’s how he sees me?
Even after all of the hard work I’ve been putting in…
“Fine. See you tomorrow afternoon.” I gather my things quickly and shut my laptop a little too hard.
I don’t know if he notices, but he doesn’t say anything.
I leave without looking back.