Chapter 25 Playing House
playing house
DUKE
Over the next few weeks, Roxanne and I fall into a rhythm neither of us dares to name.
It’s like playing house with someone who causes my stomach to knot every time she enters a room.
She says goodnight like it’s a habit now, voice soft through the hallway.
Some nights, I hear the faint click of my door handle as she checks on me when she thinks I’ve already fallen asleep.
In the mornings, when she doesn’t make it back to the lodge, I find her asleep, curled in the oversized chair. Sometimes she’s slumped over the desk, notebook slipped from her lap, pen still in her hand like she dozed off mid-thought.
I leave the coffee nearby, but now I’m careful not to wake her.
For some reason, cosmic forces which I cannot explain, have propelled me to start drawing suns and happy faces on notes I leave with her coffee.
I’m not sure what she does with them, but I never find them in the trash either, so there’s that.
Despite our adorable little routine, she still calls me “Mr. Faraday.” Not sure what I feel ready for with a woman who can’t bring herself to use my first name, but I like smelling her perfume in the library.
I like hearing other footsteps in the house at night instead of the familiar sounds of the ice maker and thermostat.
We both keep ourselves busy throughout the day. I hit my chores and my repair list hard while she conducts more interviews. She has even started to follow along with Rusty on evening chores, which I think he appreciates. She’s only been here a month, and I’m already used to her.
One night, I make a decision that will set us down a different dusty road. After I try and fail to sleep, I come downstairs for water and find her sleeping in the library again. Her head is tucked against the arm of the chair, her breathing is soft and slow.
“I’ve had just about enough of this,” I whisper.
She barely stirs when I slide one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. I lift her, and she’s light and warm against my chest.
I carry her upstairs to one of the guest rooms down the hall from me.
She doesn’t wake even as I tuck the blanket over her shoulders and brush a strand of hair off her cheek.
I sit on the bed next to her, taking in the sight of her cuddled up under the covers in my house.
She helped me that night when I couldn’t breathe. She stayed when I thought she’d run.
A grunt from Jameson interrupts my thoughts.
“What do you want, stinky?” I ask.
Jameson wastes no time jumping up on the bed and curling up near Roxanne.
“Hey, get down. Leave her alone,” I whisper.
When Roxanne turns on her side, Jameson doubles down and stretches out.
“Traitor,” I say as I get up and close the door.
I linger a moment longer, watching them both sleep. Figures that my dog gets the girl first.
I don’t even wait for the sun to filter in through my window. I’m up with new energy as I head downstairs to start the coffee. I’m savoring the fact that Roxanne is still upstairs, but my dreamy state is interrupted when the familiar voices of Topper and Rusty come into the house.
“I sure hope that boy is not messing around with—” Rusty stops when he enters the kitchen and sees me sipping the warm brew I just made.
“Good morning,” I say, taking a seat on my barstool. “You were saying?”
“Good morning, dear,” Topper says. He kisses me on the cheek just to piss me off and pours coffee for him and Rusty. “Rusty and I noticed that Roxanne’s golf cart never leaves the house. She’s usually still in the library in the morning, but we didn’t see her there when we walked in.”
“Good work, Nancy Drew!” I say. “I’m glad you’re on the case.”
“Duke, are you—”
“Relax, old man.” I hop off my barstool and start some eggs. “Roxanne has been falling asleep in the library, so last night I carried her upstairs to a guest room. The only one she’s messing around with is Jameson.”
“Of course,” Topper says, taking a sip of coffee. “That’s what we assumed.”
“Even if I was messing around with her, y’all would be filing it under none of your damn business. And no, I wouldn’t call it messing around because that sounds … well, not as romantic.”
Rusty and Topper stare at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Not as romantic?” Topper asks. “Brother, you’ve got it bad.”
“Playing house is not a good idea, boy,” Rusty says. “She is leaving soon, and if y’all don’t end up getting on, she might be less inclined to do right by us.”
“I think you know that’s not true,” I say, starting to peel potatoes. “Roxanne is a professional. She’s going to do right by us whether we are playing house or not.”
As Rusty and Topper sit down at the long wooden table off the kitchen, I have a feeling there’s more to their concern. I finish making breakfast and set plates in front of them, then sit down to hear what they have to say.
“So … what’s up?” I ask.
Rusty motions for me to hand him the ketchup. “I think we’re going to need funding before the end of summer.”
“I can take care of it,” I offer.
“You can’t keep draining your savings, Duke,” Topper says.
“I have enough, and I have the rest of what Grand Dad left me.”
Topper and Rusty exchange glances and my chest tightens.
“Well, it seems like y’all have already talked, so let’s hear it. What have you cooked up while I’ve been working on the pasture fences?” I ask.
“You’re not gonna like it, but I think it’s worth a shot,” Rusty says mid-bite.
“That’s a nice build up,” I say.
“We think you should call …” Topper starts.
“Your brother,” Rusty finishes.
Hearing Rusty say that makes me go stone-cold still. I swallow my bite of eggs as if it’s glass shards in my throat.
“Not an option,” I finally say.
“Hasn’t he done some fundraising for other causes?” Topper says. “He found us this place, so seems like it’s worth a shot.”
I don’t respond right away as I think about the last time I saw Charlie in person.
It was two years ago. He donned a sharp suit, expensive watch, and the same boyish charm, but there was something hollow behind his Hollywood grin.
I barely recognized him. Fame had done something to my brother a long time ago, and while he did find us this property, he didn’t mind the photo ops and publicity that came with it.
“Let me think about it … unless … you’ve already called him because you knew I would be boiling mad and would refuse to do this.”
Topper arches an eyebrow. “We did already reach out to him and are you boiling mad?”
“I think you know the answer.”
Topper claps his hands together. “I knew it!”
“Topper didn’t have anything to do with this. I spoke with your mother last night,” Rusty says. “Your mother and I decided to reach out to Charlie. You are the heart and soul of this ranch, Duke, but we are still your parents.”
“Is this about the ranch or getting Charlie and I talking again?” I ask.
Rusty shrugs and cuts his sausage. “Little bit of both, I’d say. Your mother has her hands full with your sister, but she’s worried about Charlie. This will be something good Charlie can do for the family, for the ranch, and for your relationship.”
Normally, I would be boiling mad, but as my thoughts drift to the woman sleeping upstairs, I’m oddly comforted. I get up to get more coffee and then fill Topper and Rusty’s cups.
“So,” I start, sitting back down. “When do I see Charlie?”
Topper sits back and sets his palms on the table. “Can I say … this sausage … the touch of maple is sending me right over the edge.”
“When?” I say, my voice rising.
“Next week,” Rusty says. “He’s picking you up, and he said that you need to find a suit.”
“Welp, now I’m pissed off,” I say. “Can’t this wait until our crew from World Explorer leaves?”
“Awww.” Topper points his fork at me. “You want to wait until Roxanne leaves so you don’t miss any time with her?”
“No,” I say a little too loud. “I want to make sure we finish out the summer with them in a positive way.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll host a Fire Circle and campout before you leave,” Topper says.
“Roxanne doesn’t seem to enjoy being out in the wild.”
“You better talk to her then,” Topper says, clearing his plate and Rusty’s.
“You’re want to go so you can share a tent with Allie,” I say to Topper.
“Can’t hear you, dear! Need to help Stedman get horses to pasture! Love you!” Topper grabs a bottle of water and makes his exit.
Rusty stands when I do and has a “listen to me boy, I’m the only father you’ve ever known” kind of look on his face.
“I know, I know,” I say before he speaks. “If this is what you and Mom want, I’ll do it.”
“We think it’s best. Thank you, son.” Rusty gives me a pat on the back. “And thank you for breakfast.”
I push the thought of my brother out of my mind as I pour Roxanne’s cup of coffee and start on my daily note—a masterpiece of a stick figure holding a flower.