Chapter Three
Darien
Okay, so maybe the start to my new life isn’t going as well as I hoped, but it’s early days.
It’s only been a week since I arrived in Arkansas with whatever belongings I managed to stuff into my Jeep.
The motel at the edge of the park is crappy, but still pricey for my budget now that the tourist season has begun.
On the bright side, I still have savings to fall back on, and the summer season also means employers will be looking for extra help. Plus, I have at least three leads on a job.
I watch with dismay as the ancient coffeemaker in my room sputters and spits out some vague version of coffee. Maybe Kade was right. I was too impulsive. I could’ve waited another year, saved more money.
I shut off the coffee machine and unplug it.
I’m still not convinced it won’t explode and burn the place down.
After powering through a few sips of the toxic brew, I dump the rest into the sink.
One bed, a counter with a sink, and a small room with a walk-in shower stall and toilet are the sum total of my lodgings.
The fake wood paneling from the fifties and saggy mattress with a chenille spread on top are another charming feature.
After showering and getting ready, I check the list one more time to plan a path that takes me in a straight line from closest to farthest. However, the straight line is more of a curly queue.
One of the places, an inn, is way off the beaten path. I doubt they get much business, but hey. They’re hiring. If I get the job, I might even be able to finagle my way into lodgings.
My phone buzzes with a text notification as I climb into the Jeep, and I pause to check who it’s from.
My younger brother said he’d check in on me from the University of Florida, but it’s Kade.
I may or may not be avoiding him. Not that I don’t miss my best buddy and ache for a friendly voice, but I’ve been saving our first post-move conversation for the great news that I’ve found an amazing job.
Although I don’t want him to think I hate him either. I tap on the screen to open the message and groan. Yeah. He’s pissed.
Quit treating me like a bill collector. You could at least pretend we’re still friends.
Sorry, bro. Not trying to brush you off. I was hoping to have something earth-shattering to announce when we talked.
This isn’t talking. Call me tonight, or I’ll tell the guys you left because you think they're all pathetic losers.
Harsh. Ok, ok. Chill. I’ll call later.
Your word is your bond.
I roll my eyes and toss the phone on the passenger seat. Talking to Kade will probably help my mood, so I vow to make it happen.
As I set off on my quest, my thoughts turn to this incredible day.
The windows are open, and I take in deep lungfuls of air that smell nothing like freeway exhaust. I’m so over that.
I definitely won’t miss the pungent aroma of baking asphalt in the scorching summer months, or the stench of too many people squashed into too little square footage.
A measure of peace settles over me as I drive toward my first destination. The gas station convenience store needs several clerks, but is my last choice of the three options. The local natural market and that remote inn are much more my speed. But at this point, a job is a job.
As I pull into the small parking lot, I note that they seem relatively busy.
Seems like a good sign. An obnoxious buzzer sounds as I push open one of the glass double doors.
A few people are in line at the register, and two boys around eight or nine are in the snack aisle, loudly arguing over which flavor of chips they should get.
“Shut up and get over here now!” bellows one of the customers in line.
The boys yell back, arguing with who I assume is their dad, and I grit my teeth. The peace I was reveling in only a few moments ago is obliterated like an egg falling off a cliff.
You need a job. You need a job. You need a job.
It’s not like I have to keep it forever, right?
The shouting continues with the man behind the register joining in the fun. The arguing turns into an insult-ridden shout fest, and it becomes clear that the employee is actually the owner—who would be my boss.
Nope.
I’d rather camp out in the woods than subject myself to this anxiety-producing nightmare.
After that debacle, I set my sights on the inn. Hopefully my potential boss there won’t be so hostile
And loud.
It takes me another thirty-ish minutes to travel from the grocery store to the inn, and it’s clear I can’t accept the job unless I can find someplace closer to stay.
The smattering of homes I’ve passed are single-family homes or little cabins that already appear occupied.
At this point in my journey, I’m already over an hour from the decrepit motel.
I spot the turnoff and find myself on a dirt road.
It’s well-maintained, but it makes me wonder how vacationers manage to find the place.
The small wooden sign with an arrow pointing toward the resort would be easy to miss in the middle of the day, let alone driving past it at night.
I’d almost missed it, and I was looking.
A place on the verge of going out of business doesn’t bode well for job security.
With a new coat of dust on my vehicle, I finally reach my destination. The parking area is also dirt, but there are four cars and a truck. Staff or guests?
The quaint, small wooden structures that dot the woods behind the main building appear well-maintained, but in no way could they be considered luxurious. More like glorified camping, with a private bathroom. At least, I assume that’s the case.
As I make my way to the office entrance, I glance at the adjoining café and catch a whiff of whatever is cooking.
A slightly garlicky aroma is making me drool.
Meatloaf? Stew? Pot Pie? Chicken and dumplings?
I want them all. The sign in the window announces that their food is homemade, and I don’t doubt it.
I lick my lips and try to ignore my rumbling stomach. Gross coffee isn’t exactly the heartiest breakfast. Too bad I can’t afford to eat there, because I bet it’s amazing. Right as I pass the door of the restaurant, I catch sight of their daily specials on a sandwich board.
Freshly baked mulberry pie.
That’s evil. Pure evil. I’ve always wanted to try some.
I close my eyes, give myself a mental slap, and with determination, pull open the door to the office. A group of tiny bells jingle—a decided improvement over the annoying buzzer—and a massive hunk of a man rises from where he’s been sitting behind the counter.
Holy shit.
My mouth goes dry for some reason. He’s maybe late thirties, early forties, well over six feet, and on the rugged side.
A small scar runs diagonally down one cheek, and although he’s thick around the middle, his hard pecs and biceps can’t be in his snug tee-shirt.
I’m not scared of him—it’s more… I tilt my head.
Oof. Those are some intense dark eyes. Large, set perfectly apart beneath his bushy, chestnut-colored eyebrows. And that hair. Full and wavy, the strands fall past his shoulders, with a portion pulled back in a man bun.
“Good afternoon. Can I help you?” He smiles as he rises to his full height, which is somewhere between tall and gargantuan.
Apparently, my jaw has been hanging open, because my teeth clack when I snap it shut.
“I uh…” I clear my throat and remind myself that whatever weirdness is going on with me can wait.
I need a freakin’ job. “Hi.” I make my way to the counter and smile up at him.
If I end up getting the job, I’ll develop a crick in my neck.
“I saw on the local website you’re looking to hire a desk clerk? I’d like to apply.”
His smile grows wider. “Wonderful. Let me grab you an application.”
He turns, then bends over the desk, shuffling some papers around. I don’t care about the papers. There's something much more intriguing to stare at.
I wince. What the hell is my problem? Not that I’ve never thought a man was attractive before, but it’s usually just a passing thought. A generalized appreciation rather than something to pursue.
Pursue? Oh no no no no no.
“Here you go.” He hands me a piece of paper requiring the most basic of information to fill out. Then again, I suppose the job doesn’t require a curriculum vitae. “My name is Rex, by the way. Rex Clawson.”
He holds out a meaty paw for me to shake, and I accept his offer, the strong fingers wrapping around mine.
Aaaaand… I’m blushing. Awesome.
I fight the compulsion to roll my eyes at myself.
Unintelligible gibberish falls from my lips until I self-correct and am able to form coherent words again. “I’m Darien Ridgefield. Nice to meet you, too.”
Rex’s features softened. “Darien. I gather you’re new to the area? Tell me a bit about yourself.”
This was a question I was prepared for. I’d already planned on the locals inquiring about the Ozark newbie.
“Well, I only moved here last week from California, but I love it already. I’m hoping the Ozarks will be my home for a long time.” I wave my hand toward the outside “It’s even more gorgeous than I thought it would be, the perfect setting for me.”
He arches his eyebrows. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“I was born and raised in Los Angeles, and I’m not a fan.
” I wrinkled my nose as if I’ve just caught a whiff of rotting cheese.
“Too crowded, too noisy. Basically, I’m not a city person.
I spent every weekend going to the mountains, but even they were getting crowded.
” I sighed. “Living away from all the chaos has been my dream for a while.”
Rex stares at me as if I’m that piece of mulberry pie I was lusting after.
”I can’t imagine living in a city. I’m glad you were able to find somewhere you want to call home.
I haven’t met many hum—” He coughs into his fist. “Er… people who move here, or that are so committed to living out in the middle of nowhere. Even here, I’ve watched the local kids grow up and move away the second they can. Not many stick around.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, my friends thought I was nuts to move here. Especially since I don’t have any family or a job lined up.
” I gesture to the application. “Which is why I’m grateful for the opportunity.
” I shift on my feet. “I was wondering, are there any places for rent or anything that are close by? I’m staying at a motel about an hour away, so finding somewhere closer would be necessary. ”
Not that I’m angling for lodging, but I’m angling for lodging. Hopefully, I’m not being too obvious.
His features fall, and I already know the answer.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I can keep an eye out, let you know if anything comes up.
” He rubs his chin. “Most of the surrounding area belongs to the national park. There are sections where people can have homes, but they don’t own the land outright; they’re leasing it from the government.
I nod. “That’s what I was afraid of. There are a few places like that in the Angeles Crest Forest. I was on the waiting list for an area with about thirty houses next to a ranger station.
Basically, about two city blocks of homes.
By the time I moved away, my name had been on there for over two years.
” I sigh. “Which only added to my plethora of reasons to leave LA.”
Rex smiles. “Would you still like to fill out the application?”
He sounds sad enough that I can’t say no. Plus, I don’t want to say no. I might get lucky and be able to move closer. It could happen.
“Yeah, I definitely do.” I smile to lighten the mood, which has taken a decidedly depressing turn. “Even if I move somewhere a little closer, it could work.”
The phone rings, and he glances at it, almost as if he’s pondering whether he can get away with ignoring it.
“Excuse me, have to grab this.”
While Rex speaks with whoever is making a reservation, I fill out the application with a heavy heart. How ridiculous am I being? Pretty ridiculous. I’d probably enjoy working here until I figure out my next move, but it won’t be the end of the world if I don’t.
I press my lips together as I outline my job experience.
Let’s face it. It’s not the job—it’s Rex.
A thread of anxiety courses through me, uneasiness over the surprising interaction taking hold.
Maybe the situation is for the best. Then I can simply put the whole experience out of my mind and forget about whatever is happening with me.
Folksy Foods Natural Market, here I come.
By the time Rex hangs up the phone, I’ve finished the application.
“Here you go.” I hand him the paper. “You’re probably busy, so I’ll get going. It was great meeting you, and thanks for giving me a chance.”
Rex takes the paper from my hand slowly, blinking several times. “Uh, sure.” He gives a slight shake of his head. “Of course. I’ll look this over and ask around to see if anyone knows of a place to rent.”
I plaster on a smile and offer up my hand for another shake. I can at least get another manly grip out of the experience to remember him by—which makes no sense, but whatever.
“Thanks so much, I really appreciate it. It was very nice meeting you. Love the Inn. Maybe I’ll stop by the café sometime.”
Not me going over the top. Nope. Not at all.
Rex grins. “I’d like that.”
He would? Why would he like it? Would I like it?
I need to get the fuck out of here.
“Heh heh. Cool.” I quickly turn so I won’t have an excuse to continue babbling. “See you around.”
I cringe, awkwardly rushing to leave, pulling the door instead of pushing, and nearly cracking my forehead on the glass.
Captain Graceful strikes again.
I keep my cool as I drive away, somehow managing not to peel out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust. No way am I going back there. My heart pounds as if it might burst out of my chest like an alien baby. I left LA to avoid stress, not add to it.
With resolve, I refocused my energy on the cozy little market. That’s more my speed. All natural, organic, chill, lacks the presence of hot guys who make me think inappropriate thoughts…
I growl. No thoughts. There are no thoughts.