Chapter 13 JR
JR
I had to be insane. What the hell was I thinking? I shouldn’t have stayed at her house. Not when she had the mutt inside, and definitely not while she danced around in her Christmas pajamas.
It was April.
“Popcorn?”
“Sure,” I muttered, though I wasn’t sure this was really a good idea. I should probably just leave now before it was considered rude to walk out.
“You’re gonna love this popcorn. It’s my own special blend,” she called from the kitchen.
The dog looked up at me, and I swear to God, he frowned. He didn’t like the idea either. He whined as his tail thumped against the floor, begging me to take him with me.
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s too cold outside, and you’re not getting into my house.”
He whimpered again, this time cocking his head to the side.
“No, it’s not happening. You can stay here with the crazy lady, and I’ll go home where I still have some sanity left.”
I pushed off the couch, but the moment I did, she was there, grinning at me and holding out a bowl.
Grimacing, I stared down at the flecks of…something on the popcorn. “What’s on it?”
“Just try it. I swear, I’m not trying to poison you.”
“But it has…things on it.”
“It has oil and herbs.”
“On popcorn?” I questioned.
“Have you ever tried it?”
“I’m not sure any sane person alive has tried it.”
“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” she said as she walked around me and plopped down on the couch, pulling her fleece blanket over her that was as big as a king-sized bed.
“Do you really need that whole blanket?”
“Why?” she smirked, waggling her eyebrows at me. “Wanna share?”
“Not even a little.” Sighing, I took a seat, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from that humongous blanket. “Why do you need something that big?”
“Because sometimes I like to fold it in half for extra warmth. And other times, I like to roll myself into a burrito.”
Shaking my head, I eyed the popcorn again. How bad could it be? Taking a tentative bite, I chewed for a solid minute. It wasn’t like normal popcorn, but it wasn’t necessarily bad either.
“So?”
“It’s…”
“It’s what?”
“It’s different.”
“Well, of course, it’s different,” she grunted. “It’s got herbs on it. I made the oil myself. Well, not the actual oil, but I picked out the herbs I wanted to infuse it with. It took me six weeks to make this batch.”
“Of oil?”
“Well, you can make it faster, but I prefer this method. I only use fresh herbs, and I like to let it sit on the windowsill in the sun, but it’s not very easy in the winter.”
“What’s the faster method?”
“Cooking it on the stove. Well, that’s the gist of it, anyway. I was actually thinking of selling it at the wine and vinegar shop.”
“Why wouldn’t you sell it in your own shop?”
“Because…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to go into competition with Max.”
“Max?”
“The owner of the wine and vinegar shop. He just opened.”
“It’s business,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but…” She shrugged, looking uncertainly into her popcorn. “Anyway, should we start The Fellowship of the Ring?”
“Sure.”
I wasn’t entirely certain about watching movies all day. After all, it seemed like such a waste, but there wasn’t much else to do. And if I was at home, I’d probably just clean the house and look in the fridge about a hundred times.
“Oh, and I put on chili for dinner.”
“You put on—”
“Shh!” Her eyes were wide and full of excitement as the show started.
I had to admit, the popcorn wasn’t all that bad, and watching the movie wasn’t terrible either. I hadn’t seen it in years, and while there were some parts that I found boring, I wasn’t exactly ready to get off the couch and wander back to my house in the cold.
At some point, I found my way under the gigantic blanket she had strewn about. My feet were warm and my legs were a little toasty, but it was comfortable.
My eyes kept drifting from Samwise and Frodo to Josie. She was so wrapped up in the movie that she didn’t even notice when her popcorn bowl was empty. Her fingers just kept shifting around the bottom, searching for another piece.
When I switched bowls with her, she didn’t even notice.
A small grin tugged at my lips that I instantly squashed. This was weird. I was sitting at my neighbor’s house, buried under blankets and watching movies. There was nothing normal about this.
There was a dog on the floor. Snoring. A dog was snoring and I was just sitting here, watching a movie. What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t some domesticated man who sat around on snow days and ate herbal popcorn and chili.
Although chili was one of my favorite meals, but that was beside the point.
What the hell had I gotten myself into? It was this woman.
She was all cheery and peppy and…cheery.
I didn’t do cheery, and I definitely didn’t do peppy.
I didn’t want to hear about her herb-infused olive oil or how it was made.
I didn’t care about whether or not she sold it in her shop, and I definitely did not sit under blankets all day.
I tossed the blanket off and stalked to the big window, staring out at the winter storm. It wasn’t that bad. I could walk home. After all, it was just a hundred feet. That was nothing.
Though the snow was drifting pretty high in spots.
But I was a man. I could handle a little snow in my boots and frigid air licking my skin until I got in my house.
Of course, then I’d have to deal with the dog chasing me home.
And if I didn’t let him in the house, Josie would go outside and try to convince him to go to her place, which was how I ended up in this situation in the first place.
Then she’d miss out on her movie day, she’d be cold, and it would be all because I chose to leave.
Fuck, I really hated my life.
Spinning around, I pinned a glare on Josie, but she just smiled. “Everything okay?”
“What?” I snapped.
“You seem a little worked up.”
“Well…yeah. It’s snowing.”
“I can see that,” she answered calmly.
“And the dog is inside.”
“I remember. We brought him inside together.”
“And you’re out of popcorn,” I said, grasping at straws.
“I can always make more.”
“Do you have an answer for everything?”
She pretended to think about it for all of five seconds. “Pretty much. I find my life is much easier if I don’t panic about the little things.”
“Little things? There’s like five feet of snow out there!” I said, thrusting my hand toward the window.
“Well, five feet might be a bit of an exaggeration. I’d say more like a foot—if we’re lucky. It’s the drifting. It makes it look like there’s more than there is.”
“See, that’s the difference between us. There is no lucky when it comes to snow.”
“I’ve always enjoyed a good snow day.”
“Well, I haven’t. And this whole…pajama thing with the dog and the popcorn and the movie…it’s just—”
“Just what?” She was still smiling. This whole back and forth hadn’t phased her at all. She was happy as a clam.
I opened my mouth to yell at her—to tell her to stop being so fucking happy all the time.
It was irritating the hell out of me. I needed a job.
A good job—one that could reset my brain and get me out of this Mayberry mindset where the days were always happy and the people were always smiling. The whole thing was fucking ridiculous.
And it was all Lizzy’s fault. I would have been out of here a long time ago if it hadn’t been for her. And her tears.
Fuck, I should have walked out long ago.
“You were saying?” Josie asked, her smile still firmly in place. “You know, you don’t have to stay here. I can send you home with chili.”
“I don’t want chili,” I muttered.
“I think you do, but I think you really hate being here with me. It’s just eating you alive to sit still and watch a movie.”
“Hey, I can sit still,” I argued.
“Oh, I have no doubt.” Her fingers brushed the bottom of the bowl before taking the scraps of popcorn and gently popping them in her mouth. Everything about her was so fucking delicate, from the shape of her face to the way she chewed. It was distracting.
And that was a fucking problem.
“This is insane. I’m outta here,” I said, snatching my coat.
“Enjoy the snow,” she called out.
Stuffing my arm through one sleeve, I was just about to tell her that I was leaving this all behind as soon as the snow melted, but I never got the chance.
Because right then, the power went out.