Chapter Nine
Jo
H ayes sinks four balls before missing the corner pocket and giving our opposing team a turn, and I’m feeling even better about our chances when Seiver lines up a shot and misses by a millimeter.
His ball knocks one of mine right in front of a side pocket, and I tap it in no problem.
Unfortunately, my next options aren’t great, and I don’t want to look like a fool in front of all these guys.
I take my time, circling the table before deciding on the 10-ball into the front corner pocket.
I have to lean deep over the table to line up my shot, but as I find the center of the cue, Lochlan zips a short whistle through his teeth.
Everyone backs up, giving me a wide berth.
I don’t think it was intentional, but it throws off my trajectory, putting my focus on the man standing opposite me across the table and not the stripe I’m aiming at.
I miss.
He smirks as I stand up, but it’s hardly noticeable aside from the slight crinkle around his normally serious eyes.
Lochlan confidently sinks five solids before missing, and that’s only because he was going for a double on the last two.
“Shit,” Hayes mumbles.
It’s just a game, but my body is tingling with nerves.
I don’t like to lose, but I also think Lochlan attending charity events with me will truly benefit the sanctuary, and this is the only way to convince him to do it.
Hayes takes his turn and puts the 15-ball in the side pocket, but misses our last stripe.
He curses again under his breath, and I know that’s a bad sign.
“Seiver, don’t fuck this up,” Lochlan threatens lightly before Seiver makes one and misses one.
One stripe left.
One solid.
And, the 8 ball.
I chalk the end of my stick for no other reason than luck.
I’m not confident in my skills here, especially when my ball is on the opposite side of the table from the cue ball and the 8-ball is in between.
Okay, Jo.
Don’t hit the 8-ball.
Don’t hit the 8-ball.
My stick punches the cue ball and…
I hit the 8-ball.
“No!” I gasp as it rolls closer to the side pocket.
If it falls in, then I lose.
It rolls to the very edge of the green felt and stops.
My head thunks down on the top rail, and I take a deep breath before standing up.
It’s not over yet, but it feels like it is.
All Lochlan has to do is hit his 4-ball in and finish with the black.
As he lines up his shot on the 4, Hayes leans over and whispers in my ear, and I catch Lochlan’s gaze shifting to us.
He makes his shot anyway .
“I can’t do that,” I whisper back to Hayes.
“It’ll work, I promise,” he insists, stepping back.
A desperate woman will do desperate things…
As Lochlan leans over to fire on the 8-ball and win the game, I step to the side and directly into his line of sight.
His dark eyes flick to mine quickly before lining up on the corner pocket directly in front of me.
My fingertips hit the skin of my left thigh, and his stick freezes mid-strike.
As my hand moves upward, his eyes follow it, snapping to my face when I catch the hem of my flowy skirt and drag it higher.
A few whistles and innocent catcalls ring out around me, but I’m locked in on Lochlan.
He’s trying to focus, but a magnet can only resist its opposing force for so long.
His pupils darken as he lines up his shot again, and just as the fabric of my sundress hits my upper thigh…
He shoots.
And, misses the black ball completely.
The cue ball rolls toward the corner pocket, depositing into the hole with a thunk , and the entire room erupts in cheers.
I win.
He stands up without tearing his gaze from mine, and my skirt falls from my hand.
He’s pissed.
Everyone is congratulating me, but I can’t stop looking at him.
I’m paralyzed watching him back away from the table and turn to go out one of the back doors.
“I knew it would work,” Hayes jokes from beside me.
“I think I made him mad, Hayes.” I look at him worriedly and he cocks his head at me.
“You don’t see it, do you?”
“What? ”
“He’s not mad.” Right at that moment we both hear the muffled, but loud, “FUCK!” roared just outside the barn walls.
“Okay, maybe he’s pissed about losing the bet, but that’s because he’s hidden out behind these gates for so long. Going around people who might know who he is, or worse, insist he’s someone he’s not, is his nightmare.”
“Oh.” Lochlan walks back through the back door of the bunkhouse and locks onto target immediately.
“No, I think he is mad at me , Hayes.”
“That man doesn’t have the ability to be mad at you.” I snap my neck to look at him because clearly, he is not referring to the same person that I am.
“He was in prison surrounded by men for ten years, and then 8 more here. He doesn’t know how to talk to you,” he finishes in a whisper as Lochlan approaches us.
“Let’s go, I’ll walk you to the guesthouse.” He grabs the still-full can of beer out of my hand, and his eyebrows scrunch briefly in confusion before setting it down on the nearest table.
“Good game, Loch,” Hayes smirks.
“Fuck you, Jensen.” Lochlan starts walking and I take the queue to follow him.
He doesn’t know how to talk to you.
I don’t believe Hayes, but the best way to prove the theory is to test it.
“I’m sorry for beating you in front of the guys,” I say from behind him, and he skids to a stop.
“No, you’re not.”
“Okay, you’re right. I’m glad I won, not because I wanted to beat you, but because I think I can really help make a difference here if you let me.”
He starts walking again, slowing his pace so I can keep up.
“I’m still not sure it’s a good idea,” he mutters.
“I’ll be with you every step of the way. I won’t let you down, I promise.” We’re stopped in between our respective houses, lit only by a floodlight across the lot.
“Fine,” he agrees, and I squeal in delight, grinning like a kid while he stares at me unmoving.
“Thank you, Lochlan.” I clap my hands together gently, and he looks more uncomfortable with my obvious excitement.
“And, thank you for letting me hang out with you guys.”
He opens and shuts his mouth, but nothing comes out.
“That’s when you say, you’re welcome, Jo.”
“You’re welcome,” he mumbles, making me grin harder.
Maybe Hayes is right, I’m a foreign object to Lochlan, and he doesn’t know how to deal with me.
I bounce a few steps away towards my door and spin in a circle because I’m in such a good mood.
“Goodnight, Lochlan.” I smile at him, and this time he’s paralyzed, staring at me silently until I step inside and shut my door.
I slump against the cool surface and sigh.
I did it.
I’m going to help him get the money he needs for the security system, we’re going to keep the bears safe, and I’m doing a damn good job at my first job ever.
This is the best day of my life!
* * *
The calendar slides an inch down the front of the refrigerator before I right it and add another magnet.
It’s filled with important dates and reminders for Lochlan about the business, and I added all the events I’d like to attend over the summer.
“What the hell are these?” Lochlan asks as he comes through the back door, noticing the hot pink sticky notes I replaced the boring yellow ones with.
“If you insist on communicating by ancient means, then I need to add a little excitement to it.” I straighten my calendar again, and it draws his attention to the floral pattern I’ve picked.
He grumbles and drops down into the kitchen chair to take his boots off.
“There’s a Memorial Day Charity Banquet that I want to be our first event. It’s honoring veterans and service members.”
“I’m not a veteran.”
“It’s for everyone to attend, fundraise, and donate. Plus, your grandfather was a veteran.”
“How’d you know that?”
How do I know that?
“His service photo is framed in the living room.”
“Fine.” He starts looking over some of the papers I left out for him as I tap my pointer finger against the space bar on my laptop.
He leans back in his chair and raises his arms over his head to rub his hands through his hair as he sighs, somehow making him look larger.
He’s wearing a plain gray T-shirt today and clings to his arms at the largest part of his bicep.
I’ve never noticed that before.
Or, how the material stretches across his chest when he raises his arms.
He has jagged bolts of black lightning tattooed on his forearm, scattered across his skin, ending just above his wrist.
If you aren’t looking closely enough, it looks vascular…
Like ink in his veins .
“How often do you leave this place?”
“I go pick up feed twice a week, go buy new tools, and machinery. I drive hours in any direction to retrieve the bear when one needs to be transported here.” He shrugs like, “What else do you want from me?”
“I meant, do you ever go anywhere for fun?”
“I don’t have fun,” he states plainly, and I roll my eyes, but unfortunately, I believe him.
“It’s going to be a long summer,” I mumble, turning my attention back to my laptop.
“I’m sure you’ll make it interesting,” he mutters, getting a beer from the fridge.
It’s only 3 pm.
“Are you done working for the day?”
“I’m never done working.” He harrumphs, noticing me eyeballing his drink.
“Don’t worry, I’ve cut back recently,” he says right before downing the rest of the can.
He grabs a water bottle next and sticks it in his back pocket, turning to snatch his boots off the floor before leaving out the back door.
Almost as soon as the backdoor latches shut, someone knocks on the front door.
There’s no peephole, only small window cutouts toward the top of the wooden door.
When I glance out, I see Frank at the same time that he sees me.
He smiles, waiting for me to open the door.
Which I do, reluctantly.
“Hi, Frank. Lochlan isn’t here.”
“Oh, I know. He was out on the other side of the property last I saw.” His smile doesn’t slip, but it makes me uneasy.
He’s never done anything to make me feel afraid of him, but he’s bolder than the other guys.
He says what’s on his mind a little too easily .
“Actually, he was ju–” I try to correct him, but he interrupts, cutting me off.
“I was coming back from a beer run, and I wanted to invite you to the bunkhouse tonight for a fire.”
“Oh, um, I don’t know if I should.” It seems innocent enough of a request, but Lochlan’s voice echoes in my head.
No socializing.
Behave.
“All the guys will be there?”
His mouth twitches in amusement.
“Yes, ma’am. Of course.”
“Maybe,” I utter, shifting my weight and preparing to close the door, but he leans in, resting his forearm on the door jam.
“Frank, what the hell are you doing up here?” Lochlan’s voice booms from the other side of the porch.
“Just getting back to work, boss.” He tips his head to me and scurries down the porch steps by the time Lochlan gets to me.
“What did he want?”
“He invited me to a bonfire at the bunkhouse later. Will you be there?”
He contemplates my question, glancing toward Frank’s retreating form.
I watch his brow deepen into a furrowed glare.
“I’ll be there.”
* * *
There’s a pep in my step as I skip down to the bunkhouse in my new cute ankle boots.
As I get closer, I can smell the wood burning and see the smoke rising around the back.
When I round the corner, all of the chatter hushes and everyone looks at me.
“Our pool champ is back,” Hayes breaks the silence, pulling a chair near the fire and offering it to me.
There’s a moment of awkward energy until the conversation picks back up, and I’m left wondering why.
“Hey, Boss! I thought you were taking off tonight?” Someone says suddenly.
Lochlan appears around the corner of the barn like a cloud of smoke, silently blending into the night.
“Decided to stay back,” he says, pointedly, cutting a look at Frank.
He glances at me and Hayes next to me, a silent conversation happening between them while everyone else continues with their own.
“I thought you didn’t have fun?” I ask him once he sits down a few feet away on the other side of Hayes.
“He doesn’t. He leaves to take care of business,” Hayes says, smirking at his friend.
Lochlan shakes his head and ignores him.
Once again, leaving me to interpret some cryptic social exchange.
Women aren’t like this.
They are usually over-sharers even with strangers.
Prying information from anyone here is painful.
I’m still trying to get all of their first and last names straight because they act like there’s some mysterious code name they have to follow.
“Is this like our first big team bonding?” Ryker asks, earning a few groans of annoyance.
“No.”
“Well, come on, now. We hardly know our girl,” Frank says, setting a beer down on the arm of my chair without asking if I want one.
“Not your girl,” Lochlan growls .
“It’s okay, I can tell them a little bit. I’m going to drag you all around all summer to network, so we might as well be friendly,” I say directly to Lochlan, and he grits his teeth subtly but ignores me.
“My name is JoAnna Montgomery, Jo for short, because only people who don’t really know me call me by my full name. I’m 24 years old, and studying for my Master’s in Biomedical Engineering with an interest in prosthetics. My favorite food is ice cream. I love watching movies. I have a collection of ten DVDs that I cherish and take everywhere.”
“Damn. She’s smart and pretty,” Ryker says.
Curtis kicks the leg of his chair in warning as if he had said something offensive.
I don’t mind, I’ve had to work hard for both titles to be true.
“They call me Spock because I sold fraudulent Star Wars memorabilia to a museum. A hundred grand worth,” he admits, and a couple of people laugh.
“I don’t even like sci-fi movies, so I didn’t realize the nickname doesn’t make sense until it had already stuck.”
“I’m Rain because they caught me in a strip club throwing around fake currency. Making it rain,” he adds proudly.
Okay…
This has turned into a nickname and rap sheet show-and-tell, but they’re being open, and I don’t want to stop their momentum.
In the corner of my eye, I see Lochlan dig around in a cooler and pull out a white seltzer can.
He hands it to Hayes, who puts it on my chair after removing the beer can that’s still sitting unopened.
“I’m good at stealing cars,” Ryker says when it’s his turn.
“Not good enough, apparently,” Arizona jabs.
“I embezzled money. And, I’m from Arizona.” He makes a motion like ‘hence the nickname’.
I open the seltzer at the same time Lochlan opens the beer he just swapped me.
“They call me Hawk because I was the lookout during a bank robbery… But, failed at it.” The next guy says, making everyone laugh again.
“My name is Jordan, my friends call me Jordy. I got mixed up selling drugs, but I’m four years sober this summer,” he admits proudly.
Rain claps him on the shoulder, and Jordy blushes, making me smile hard.
I’m so proud of these people that I hardly know.
“Curtis?” Jordy deflects the attention, passing the imaginary speaking stick.
“Um, I’m from here in Langston. I never went to prison, but I went AWOL to attend my grandmother’s funeral and got involved with a bad crowd. They got me hooked on fentanyl and strapped a bomb to me.” He laughs humorously like a man who has coped with his trauma, but my jaw drops.
Poor Curtis.
“My buddy Jesse struck a deal with the military after he found out about this place. Once I got out of rehab, I committed to five years here instead of getting a dishonorable discharge and jail time. Still got these as evidence of what happened.” He holds up his arms to show his scars before quickly covering them again with his sleeves.
“Proud of ya, kid,” Seiver says, and Curtis nods in shy acknowledgment.
“Frank?” Seiver prompts.
“Drugs,” Frank admits, not elaborating .
“Me, too. I’m sober 40 years,” Seiver admits proudly, before lifting his can to take a drink.
“From drugs,” he clarifies with a wink in my direction, and it makes me chuckle.
“Boss, your turn,” Frank prompts, and everyone falls silent.