Chapter 27
Jake
“What?! Where did you pull those cards out of?” Scarlett leans over the table, careful to miss the candle in the middle to check the cards in my hands.
“I appreciate your competitive nature but I am not a cheat.”
Cami lets out a cough as a poor attempt to cover up the word, “liar.”
“I do not cheat,” I insist, “I’m just better than you guys.” I shrug my shoulders and the girls both scowl at me. Which gets deeper when I laugh about it.
After breakfast we checked on all the animals, the chicks were nice and toasty inside the coop Scarlett fixed and I admit that I was impressed with how well she did.
Somehow, it’s better now than when Blaine built it in the first place.
She helped Cami and I with our chickens and Henrietta.
She even asked if she could take a turn at milking her.
Turns out she is a natural. Once the chores were done the snow picked up its pace again dropping a few more inches in an hour.
I made some soup while Scarlett threw together a simple loaf of bread for lunch.
Since then, we’ve been playing games all day.
The sun set about an hour ago and we’re on our millionth round of Uno. I’ve won every single round.
“Oh, you think you’re so smooth! I guarantee you’re cheating, I just can’t prove it.” Scarlett says. “Probably because it’s so dark in here.” Her words are grumpy but her face is full of joy.
“Don’t be a sore loser,” I say, knowing it will rile her up more. We’ve been going back and forth trading jabs all day and I have to admit, it’s been pretty fun.
“I am a lot of things but I’m not a sore loser.
Actually, I’m just not a loser at all,” she says and in the candle light I can just barely see that glint in her eye that I’m learning means she's just gotten an idea. “We’d have to finish the game for me to lose.” And before I can catch on to what she’s saying she slaps the cards out of my hand.
They fall to the floor and Scarlett sits back in her chair like she just won the game.
“Maybe that’s enough games for you elderly folk,” Cami says before she lets out a long yawn. “It’s enough for me anyway. I’m going to go to my room.”
“Elderly?” Scarlett asks with a hurt look on her face. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are,” Cami says, “but that doesn’t change your age.” She shoots Scarlett a smirk that looks just like the one Scarlett’s been giving me all day and Scarlett pretends as if she’s been shot in the heart. Going so far as to fall on the floor faking her death while Cami stalks off to her room.
Once the door closes Scarlett sits up, still on the floor and looks up at me, the hurt expression gone completely. “I like her,” she says.
“She’s a great kid,” I agree. Although, I have to say that even though Cami usually spends a night here every week or two this is the most time she’s spent without her phone.
I could justify that she’s trying to conserve her battery since we’re out of power but I know the real answer is that Cami likes Scarlett too.
“Want to play another round?” Scarlett asks. I glance down at the floor, littered with cards and Scarlett follows my gaze. “Oh yeah, maybe not.”
“How about some wine?” I ask. Scarlett’s eyes shoot up to mine with a look of surprise.
“You’ve been holding back the option of wine all day? I would have been much nicer about the uno games if I’d had wine.”
I laugh as I collect the cards off the floor and head to the kitchen for a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I know it’s silly because she’s older now, but I’ve just always had this rule about drinking in front of Cami.” I look away, unsure of why I just told her that.
“I can respect that.” Scarlett follows me into the kitchen and sits at the island.
It’s the same seat she sat in this morning for breakfast and it feels like that was so long ago.
I’m amazed at how little time it took for both of us to get more comfortable together.
I hand her the glass of wine. She takes a sip and closes her eyes out of pleasure.
It reminds me of the little moan she let slip earlier this morning in front of the fireplace.
I pretended not to notice the little sound, or the way my body reacted to it.
“So tell me about yourself Jake.” Scarlett says when she opens her eyes again.
“Not Shrek or Grumpy? I get my real name today?” I joke.
“Well, I can’t promise what tomorrow will bring but you did save me from freezing to death. And you cooked for me. So I figure I should probably use your real name. For today at least.” I chuckle and it makes it even funnier that she remains straight faced.
“Well, there’s not a whole lot to tell. The usual story. I grew up here, Mom and Dad split up, I went off to college vowing never to come back. I came back when Dad got sick and I never left.”
“Where did you go to college?” She asks.
“USC.” I answer after I take a sip of my wine. “I lived in Cali for a few years between college and work afterwards before Dad got sick.
“What did you go to college for?”
I straighten my back and answer, “Business.”
“Hmm a finance bro huh?” She looks at me with a wary look and takes a sip of her wine.
“Hardly, but it did come in handy when getting Dad’s farm into the black.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Did he always struggle with the farm?” She asks.
“You know, you ask a lot of questions, and give very little information about yourself.” I say with a slight chortle to keep it light. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’m being interrogated.”
A slight blush comes across her face, It’s hardly noticable in the candle light but the pink in her cheeks makes her even more beautiful. Something I didn’t think was possible.
“Sorry about that,” she says as she lowers her gaze to the countertop. “Occupational hazard.” She doesn’t expand and I don’t point out the irony of it.
“A social media influencer doesn’t strike me as the type to only ask questions. Seems it would be the other way around.” She chokes on her sip of wine and covers her mouth when she coughs.
“I would not call myself an influencer, wait how did you even know that?”
“There’s another question.” I say.
“Fine, I was a journalist for Denver Magazine for nearly a decade.” Something flashes across her face and I’m not sure if it’s longing or relief.
“A journalist huh? Well the questions make more sense now, but how did you end up in Valentine? Wait a second, are you a spy? You are, aren’t you? For the Henderson farm over in Florence?” She laughs and I treasure the fact that I pulled the beautiful melody from her.
“Journalists are not usually spies.” Is all she says.
“Usually isn’t never.” I say. “And to think, I showed you my secret to getting Henrietta into the stanchion.” I shake my head, feigning regret.
“A bucket of treats is hardly a secret.” She responds and I can’t help but feel a flutter in my chest. How long has it been since I’ve had a fun conversation like this with a woman? Sure, I’ve dated in the past few years but nothing has even felt so rewarding than making this woman laugh.
“Well, I’ll be damned if I show you the greenhouse like I planned tomorrow.” There’s that little giggle again and pride blooms in my chest.
“We’ll see about that.” She says, a full blown smile on her face.
“Oh yeah? You think you can get me to show you the greenhouse even though you’re a spy?”
Her eyes bore into mine over the top of her wine glass and the blue in them shine through in the candlelight.
Her lids look slightly heavy and I’m not sure if it’s from the wine, the lack of sleep last night, or this flirtatious banter we’ve got going on.
Selfishly, I want it to be from what we have between us.
“I feel pretty confident that I can get you to do whatever I want you to do.” I’m not proud to say that my dick jumps at that statement. All of a sudden with one full day spent with this woman I told myself I couldn’t want, all I want is for her to make me do what she wants me to do.
It’s then that I notice that we’ve drifted closer to each other.
We are merely inches apart. If I brought my face forward just the slightest I could lay my lips on hers.
Her soft, supple, ruby red lips. “That’s exactly what a spy would say.
” I whisper, inching closer. In a moment of weakness I decide that I’m going to kiss this woman.
I’m going to plant my lips on hers and if she kisses me back then I will pick her up and drag her to my bedroom and let her tell me what she wants me to do to her.
I feel her breath on my lips. All that stands between our lips is the fragments of air between us. Right before our lips can join, Cami opens the door to her bedroom and Scarlett and I break apart like a pair of teenagers that just got caught by our parents.
In her pajamas Cami holds a small flashlight and the beam lands on our faces as she makes the turn to the bathroom right next door.
She doesn’t see us, but the implications lay heavy between us.
Scarlett doesn’t meet my eyes when she stands up and brings her wine glass over to the sink to rinse it out.
She lets out a yawn that I suspect is fake and says, “I suppose we should head to bed. I mean, I should head to bed. To my own bed. Where is my bed?” That blush is back on her cheeks and something deep in my gut makes me think that this time, it isn’t a cute blush, but a flustered blush.
Like the one you would get from feeling like you just made a mistake.
My stomach twists in knots and I point to the door across from the kitchen.
It’s my room, and I plan to take the couch tonight.
The room across from Cami’s room is my old bedroom from my childhood.
Dad turned it into an office when I left for California.
I’m pretty sure the only reason he did it was because I made such a stink about leaving and never coming back.
We fought a lot back in those days. But, since it lacks a bed, Scarlett’s only choice is mine.
I’m going to ignore how bad I want to go in there with her.