11. Wick
WICK
Wick went tense all over, then went on picking up a stick of wood and loading it into the stove. “Figured you did,” he said neutrally.
Of course it was going too well. She was only up here for the weekend, he knew that, but he’d lost his heart anyway.
He turned to look at her. Doreen was sitting at the table, both hands wrapped around an empty coffee cup as if she was holding it for comfort. Her hair spilled loose over her shoulders in a riot of curls. He had a sudden, powerful sense-memory of what it felt like to run his hands through it.
Already having her at the cabin felt natural and right. The idea of having her walk out of his life made him feel as if his heart was being torn out of him.
“I came up here thinking I was unemployed,” Doreen said. She glanced up at him. “I was taking a little time to—to get my head screwed on straight, I guess. But I found out today that I still have my job. It’s a good job, doing what I love.”
Wick fiddled with the vents on the front of the stove, giving him something to do with his hands. “Sounds good.”
“It—I guess it is.” When he glanced over at her, she was frowning. “I keep thinking about what happened. They fired and then hired me back.”
“That doesn’t sound right.” The idea of anyone toying with Doreen’s heart in that way made him furious, no matter the situation.
“It’s complicated.”
Wick brought the coffee over and poured for both of them. “Want to talk about it?”
“Yes,” Doreen said decisively. “Yes, I do.” She clasped her filled cup, looking defiant and gorgeous. “I was fired for—well, they said for threatening a customer.”
Wick frowned. That didn’t sound like her at all. “What happened?”
“What happened was he tried to grab my ass,” Doreen said, and a flush of protective fury rushed through Wick. “Temper overcame me, I guess. It’s a flaw of mine.”
“Sounds like he got what was coming to him,” Wick growled. If he’d been there, the guy, whoever he was, would have gotten a lot more than that.
“I didn’t actually hit him. I waved a wrench in his face and told him if he did it again, I’d—um—I’d break his wrist.”
“Good for you,” Wick said.
“I sort of felt that way at the time, but my boss had a point that you can’t just go around threatening people with wrenches.”
“Yeah? Sounds like more people need to wave a wrench in that guy’s face.”
Doreen’s pensive look broke into a grin. “See, I think you ought to have a talk with my boss.”
“Someone ought to,” Wick snarled. “Let me know where to find him. He fired you for that?”
“Whoa. It’s all right.” She was looking at him in wonder—as if she really wasn’t used to having people stick up for her. “It’s all settled, I’ve been hired back. But now I’m wondering if I really want to go back.”
“You shouldn’t,” Wick said. He was still scowling. “If they fired you for standing up for yourself, you don’t deserve that shit. You can get a better job.”
“I—I don’t know about that. Anyway, I think the customer was an excuse. My supervisor wanted to get rid of me. The worst part was that I—I thought the men who worked with me wanted me out as well.”
Wick’s scowl was even more thunderous. “What possible problem did they have?” And can I have a word with them ?
“That’s just it, I don’t think they did. I mean, they were rough on me at first. Hazing and that sort of thing. Some of them obviously didn’t believe I could do a full day’s work.” She blinked, looking for a moment as if she was about to cry. “But I—I believed they had come around on me, and now I think they actually did. The only person who still has a problem with me is my boss—well, my supervisor, not the top boss. The owner’s son. He didn’t want a woman working in his shop, and he was out to find any excuse to get rid of me.”
Wick’s inner beaver would love to get the guy alone in his pond for five minutes. “They don’t deserve you. None of ’em do.”
“Nah, they’re good guys. I like the guys I work with, for the most part. And the rest of it is—it’s just the job,” Doreen said, straightening her shoulders and looking abruptly defiant. The lip wobble vanished and her entire demeanor was badger-tough. “You have to put up with crap. I know that. But—honestly I’m starting to wonder if I wouldn’t be happier as my own boss. I don’t know if I have the skills?—”
“What? From what I saw today, you’re great at what you do. You’d be a great boss, I bet.”
Doreen smiled and ducked her head. It was like she had never heard a compliment before, though someone like her— beautiful, competent, good with her hands—must surely get a lot of them. “I don’t know about that. Being a boss is a whole different skill set. I mostly just like the idea of working for myself, beholden to no one.” She turned to look out the window, where rain lashed the glass. “I love that about your lifestyle here. In a way, you’re living my dream.”
Wick found himself abruptly and shockingly teetering on the edge of telling her things he hadn’t told anyone before. He wrenched himself back; the idea of opening up to her made a chasm gape inside him. She admired the life he lived; she might not if she knew the entire truth, and what had gone into him choosing it.
“This lifestyle’s not for everyone,” he said gruffly.
Doreen turned to look at him. “Do you think I couldn’t make it, living up here in the mountains?”
“No,” he said quickly. The idea of Doreen in his cabin, in his bed, all the time—that was a dream worth holding on to. “No, I think you’d be good at whatever you did. Are you—thinking about moving here?”
“I am thinking about it,” Doreen said slowly. She set the coffee cup down and got up, as if she needed to move around to think. “What are your plans for the future, Wick?”
“The future?” he said, startled. Mostly he tried not to think about it. “Why?”
“Because—well—I’m really thinking about this.” She was gazing at a shelf of books, not really seeming to see it. Now she turned around toward him, her gaze bright and excited. “I’m thinking about leaving my job, trying something new, moving here with you. What about it?”
It was everything he wanted on a very tempting platter—and he found himself in a strange state of wild temptation mixed with the urge to flee into the woods and never emerge. Because ... things just didn’t work out like that for him.
At least they hadn’t so far.
I’m poison. Everything I touch turns to ash.
“I think it could work,” he said cautiously.
Doreen’s smile faltered. “Not exactly the enthusiasm I was hoping for.”
“I do want it,” Wick said honestly. “I just—” I want it so much it terrifies me . “Is it what you want?”
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out, isn’t it?” She circled the cabin, agitated and full of energy. Her hands moved as if she wanted something mechanical to take apart. “I don’t know , Wick. I never really thought too much about my future, either. What do you imagine for yourself in five years? Ten? Do you want kids?”
“I don’t want to think about it,” Wick said, startled into perhaps a little too much honesty.
Doreen turned to frown at him in puzzlement. “What do you mean, you don’t want to think about it?”
“I don’t know how we got to talking about me,” Wick said. Tension made the words come out shorter and tighter than he meant them. He really was out of practice at having conversations with people. “We were talking about you.”
“Yes, but it’s not just my future we’re discussing, is it? If I move—if I move up here with you, that’s big, Wick. That’s huge. I’ve never lived with someone before. Do you think it can work?”
“I don’t know. Nobody can know what’s in the future.”
“Well, I know that. But what’s in our future, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. I need to know if you have, like—long-term plans to go back to college or something. A secret wife hidden away somewhere.” She started to smile, then stopped. “Wick, you’re not already married, right?”
“No!” Wick said, shocked.
“Okay, good, but my point is, we don’t even really know each other that well yet.” She circled back around to sit down. By now Wick was wound up tight; he had no idea what was coming. Doreen took his hand. “Can we just like—talk about things?”
The feeling of her hand was nice in his, but he was still wary. “What sort of things?”
“Like—our pasts? Our futures? We’ve only known each other for a few days. I want to believe we can build a lifetime on that.” She smiled. “What’s your favorite food?”
This got a small smile out of him. “Blueberry pancakes.” The words came with a small tug of not-entirely-happy memory; he pushed it down.
“Mine’s chocolate cupcakes. If you want to make me happy, Wick, give me chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting for every birthday.”
Wick felt himself begin to smile wider. “I can do that. Every birthday.”
“Now that’s something. When is your birthday? I’m a June baby. June 2nd.”
That seemed very right for her. “April 10th.”
“A spring baby! That’s wonderful.” She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. “I have an older brother, Walt. My mom and dad live in Arizona—but I told you that already. What about you? Parents, brothers, sisters?”
His hand had gone still in hers. He pulled it away. “I don’t like people prying into my past.”
“I didn’t mean to pry. Are you okay?”
He was the farthest he could get from okay. All of a sudden it felt like he was teetering on the edge of an abyss. How had he thought he could skirt around it forever?
“Yeah,” he said shortly. “Fire’s going out.” He got up and went to feed it.
Doreen watched him. Her hand, that he had so recently been holding, curled slightly on the edge of the table.
“I don’t want to be nosy, Wick, but I really do feel like you’re hiding something from me—something big. If we’re going to build a life together, I guess I need to know that—” She took a breath and looked away. “That you’re not a serial killer or something.”
“I’m not a serial killer,” Wick said gruffly. “It’s not just you. I don’t like talking to anybody about my past.”
He genuinely wanted to tell her, he found to his surprise; he just needed to get his thoughts together, and he felt as if he couldn’t seem to do that.
“I know, but—I’m not just anybody, am I? People in a relationship do talk about things. I’m trying to be as much of an open book as possible.”
“I’m not an open book.”
“I’m noticing that,” Doreen said. She got up and began to pace again. “Look, seriously, I don’t want to force you to talk about things that are clearly personal, but I also don’t want to feel like every intimate conversation we have is tiptoeing through a minefield. Can you throw me a bone here?”
“I don’t know what that means,” Wick said.
“I mean, just—at least let me know what some of the topics are that you don’t want me to bring up.”
“My past, for one thing.”
“That’s pretty broad, don’t you think?”
“Is this a conversation or an interrogation?” Wick snapped.
“I’m trying to be in a relationship with you and it’s not easy!”
“Is that what we are? In a relationship?”
Doreen looked upset. “What’s the matter? Are we moving too fast? I thought we were both on the same page about this.”
“One minute you’re talking about going back to the city, then you’re talking about moving in with me. I don’t know what page we’re supposed to be on.”
“Good grief!” she burst out. “I’m figuring this out too, you know! Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Don’t get upset.”
“Don’t do that to me! I do get upset sometimes! Everybody does. You’re being ridiculous.”
Wick stood up. “I don’t like my past pried into.”
“I know that, you’ve said so repeatedly, and I’m trying not to, so tell me what not to ask about!”
“Anything!” Wick snapped. “I’ll talk about it if I want to!”
“I’m not trying to make you, I’m just trying to get to know you! I’ve told you a lot about me. It’s starting to feel like you’re hiding something big from me, and I hate that feeling.”
She whirled away, and her angry gaze fell on the envelope with DAD on the side, tucked up on a high shelf by the dishes where he had put it
Wick could see where this was going, and his vision nearly whited out with rage. He sprang to his feet and grabbed it down from the shelf while Doreen was still looking at it. “Don’t touch my things.”
“I wasn’t going to touch your stupid things, but see, this is what I mean!” Doreen whirled away from him, well and truly mad now. She slapped a hand on the table. “I don’t know where I can step or what I can say or what I can touch in here. I can’t have a relationship with you if I’m constantly walking on eggshells.”
“If that’s what being around me feels like to you, then maybe we don’t have a relationship,” Wick shot back.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, but the hot flare of temper in Doreen’s eyes faded to a cold determination that was somehow worse.
“Maybe we don’t,” she snapped. “You know, I bared my soul to you. I told you the thing that hurt me most.”
Wick’s entire body language had become defensive and closed off. “That doesn’t mean I owe you anything back.”
Doreen stared at him, hurt and angry. “You know what,” she said, snatching her purse in one hand and her borrowed rain slicker in the other. “I think I’m spending the night at the lodge after all.”
Wick’s anger changed instantly to alarm. “It’s not safe.”
“It’s just a little wind and rain,” Doreen flared at him. “I’m not a porcelain doll, as you can clearly see.” She gestured at herself. “I know the way to the lodge. I’ve walked it and I’ve driven it with you twice. See you later. Don’t you dare follow me, because I’m not changing my mind.”
She walked out and slammed the door.