Chapter 12
Kayla
I don’t want to show up at Colt’s house and just sit there.
Something about walking into the farmhouse when he’s not there seems wrong, so I decide to stop at the grocery store to get some groceries.
I can make dinner, and then at least even if I’m there without Colt, I won’t just be twiddling my thumbs and resisting the urge to snoop.
Every time I go grocery shopping at The RaceTrack, which is the only grocery store in town, I’m reminded that everyone knows everyone in Castlebrook.
Well, everyone except me. I swear it’s like I’m a zoo exhibit.
People have literally stopped in their tracks and watched me pick out my apples before.
I thought they would have gotten used to seeing me around in the past month, but I guess not.
“Hi, Dear.” A hand on my cart stops me from continuing down the aisle. “You must be Kayla.”
“That’s me,” I smile politely to the old woman whose hair is so silver it's almost blue. I didn’t think hair could even get to that color.
“Lovely!” Her eyes trail up and down, appraising me. She nods approvingly, pursing her lips. “Yes, I think this will work.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m Sue Cruthkins, self-proclaimed town crier.”
“They still have those?” I ask.
“They do in Castlebrook.” She turns her nose up, as if my question offended her.
“Well, that’s cool,” I try to soften the old woman. I would hate for the town crier to hate me. I feel like that would be a bad situation. Like catching herpes from a 70-year-old bad. “Adds to the charm,” I flatter her.
“See, that’s what I think too, though some people disagree,” she sniffs. “Give me your number, and I’ll add you to the text chain.”
“Oh, that’s—” I hesitate, “modern.” I look around the supermarket, wondering if there’s anyone witnessing this old woman accosting me and is willing to save me. There’s no one in sight, and that feels a little calculated to me.
“Here,” she thrusts an old flip phone in my direction. “I send updates every morning at 6:00 in the morning. Go on, it doesn’t bite.”
I guess I’m left with no choice.
“Perfect. Say hello to Colter for me.” She doesn’t bother to wait around once she’s secured my number. Obviously, she was a woman on a mission. I watch her nearly take out a tower of cans as she careens around the corner, moving with impressive speed for an elderly woman.
Despite my interruptions at the grocery store, in which I’m stopped by four other people who introduce themselves to me—conveniently, they all appear after I was forced to give Sue my number—I’m still at the house before Colter.
I was kind of hoping the unplanned introductions would have wasted enough time.
Just like he said, the front door is unlocked.
If you leave a door unlocked in Chicago, all of your stuff will vanish like a magic trick.
I set my grocery bags on the kitchen counters and look around the house again.
I don’t think I will ever get over how much I love this house.
Normally, I hate wood accents, but they belong in a house like this.
I wish I could live here forever, but I guess I’ll settle for a few months.
Resisting the urge to go explore the upstairs, which I’ve only seen briefly when I showered here, I instead dive into cooking.
I’m making white chili and grilled cheese since it’s relatively easy, and I should be able to find everything I need in the kitchen.
It’s also a recipe I mastered when I was twelve, so I know I won’t fuck it up.
I shuffle my music playlist, humming along to each song as the time passes and the chili comes to a boil.
The sun starts to set, and it takes me a few tries to figure out which light switch controls the lights in the kitchen.
The breakfast nook sits encased in windows, giving me the perfect view of the fields and rolling hills that seem to go on for years.
Faith always used to say that you could watch a dog run away for days, and I think that applies perfectly to fields like these.
Horses graze in the pasture beside the white barn, tails swishing, and I watch them for a few minutes while the chili cooks.
I wonder what it would be like to ride a horse?
They look so majestic just standing there.
I would hate to disturb them for something as trivial as a ride, but then again, maybe they enjoy the companionship.
My attention is so stuck on the horses that I don’t notice the strange man walking into the house until he’s standing in the hallway peering down at me curiously.
“Fuck!” I bolt backwards, hip ramming against the corner of the granite countertop. I’m sure that’s going to be a lovely bruise by the morning. Reaching blindly, I grab the butter knife I used to butter the grilled cheese and wave it in front of me like a madwoman. “Who are you?”
“Whoa!” Hands raised in surrender, eyebrows raised in amusement, the dirty man stands still. “I’m Scott. I work here. Who are you?”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I ask, refusing to answer his question. He looks homeless, okay? I’m not playing around and finding out. My free hand wraps around the waist that slammed into the counter, pressing down on the throbbing bone.
“Um,” he chews his lip. “I don’t know, we don’t really get ID cards for jobs like this? I can show you my driver’s license?”
“Slide it over,” I motion with the knife.
He slips his wallet out of his pocket, tossing it onto the kitchen island so that I can easily reach it.
Inside, I find a driver’s license, fishing license, and hunter’s safety training certificate, all with his full name, Scott Ryan Mercer.
I also find a condom that I’m sure has expired by now and a five dollar bill.
“What are you doing here?” I close his wallet and toss it back onto the island.
He takes it as an invitation to walk further into the room. I keep a firm hold on my knife.
“I was looking for Colter. He disappeared after we got the cows settled in the new pasture. I thought maybe he came home to see Ben.”
“Ben’s at his grandparents’ house,” I tell him, slowly letting the tension ease out of my body. Colt did say that the guys come and go, and Scott seems to know an awful lot about Colter and his family.
“Is it the last Sunday of April already? Huh.” Scott hops up onto a barstool, not caring about the dust that’s literally coming off of him. “So you haven’t seen Boss Man yet?”
My mind lags on his comment, the one about the end of April. I’ve been in Castlebrook for a month and a half already. It’s crazy to think.
I shake my thoughts away. Scott asked a question. “No, not yet. He told me he would be late.”
“And who are you again?”
“Kayla. Kayla Carson. I’m Ben’s teacher.”
“No shit,” he scrubs at the stubble along his jaw. “You’re Kayla?”
“Um, yes?” I fear I know where this conversation is going. If he calls me Colter’s girl, I might have to use the knife on him just out of principle.
“The whole town's been talking about you,” he tells me, looking at me with new interest.
“Well, that’s disconcerting,” I mumble, tossing the butter knife onto the island and turning to rummage through the freezer. Maybe if I ice my hip right away, it won’t turn black.
“It’s all good things. Sue loved you, so you’ve already won over the most judgmental woman in town,” Scott promises.
“I literally met her an hour ago. How do you know that?”
“The Castlebrook text chain,” he says, like it’s normal for a town to have a text chain where they gossip. Maybe a Facebook page is normal, but not a text chain.
“Of course,” I can’t help but smile. As absurd as it is, I kinda like it.
“So, Kayla, is this all you?” Scott gestures to the pot on the stove top, the grilled cheeses stacked on a plate, and the ingredients still strewn across the counter.
“Oh, yeah. I should get this cleaned,” I sigh, picking up containers of food that now need to go in the fridge.
“Nah, let Colter deal with it. He could use some hard work in his life. Wait, no, don’t tell him I said that! He’ll make me work the night shift.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” I promise the man, who can’t be much older than me.
“See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He smiles, and his face lights up like a little boy on Christmas morning.
“So, are you planning on eating this all by yourself?” He’s got a point.
I might have gotten a little carried away.
There are six grilled cheeses piled up on the plate, and the chili takes up a pot big enough to fit a whole chicken.
“You want some?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” He stands from his chair, finding the bowls with no issues and grabbing one for himself. He tries to pass another to me, but I wave him off. I’ll wait for Colt. “Rooster is cooking tonight,” he tells me. “Rooster can’t cook.”
“Someone here is called Rooster?”
“Well, no. His name is Drew, but on his first day here, he got attacked by a rooster.” Scott takes a big slurp of chili. “Holy shit, that’s good.”
“Thanks.” The blush creeps up my face involuntarily. I’ve never been good at taking compliments. I can take insults like a champ, but the second someone tries to flatter me, I turn into a stoplight.
“Seriously. I would marry this bowl of chili. Wait, no. I’ll just marry you.” I giggle at his absurd declaration. I literally giggle. He’s weirdly charming for such an energetic guy, like a giant golden retriever. I don’t really know how to react to him.
“Scott.” We both tense at the low tone that fills the kitchen, neither of us having seen Colt walk in. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
“Hey, Boss Man.” Smiling sheepishly, Scott’s shoulders fold into himself, and he drops his spoon into his nearly empty bowl. He must’ve really been hungry. “I was just looking for you.”
“In a bowl of chili?” Colt’s jaw twitches. He stands tall with his arms crossed at the end of the island, looking unimpressed.