by Nikki Lane
“Just thought you’d like some clean sheets,” I said.
He took a few more steps into the room and pushed back the wet strands of hair out of his face. “That’s really nice of you,” he said. “Thanks.”
I knew I needed to move, but my body wasn’t cooperating. Jacob didn’t say anything. He didn’t even give me a funny look as I stood, silent and motionless, next to the bed as he waited half naked.
“Is there something else?” he said.
I shook my head. “No, all finished.”
What the hell was I doing? Leave. Now. Stop waiting for the towel to magically fall to the floor.
“You sure?” His stare never faltered.
“Yeah…”
It was like the concept of walking away was completely foreign to me. “I guess I should be getting to bed now.” I kneaded my fingers together.
He tossed a white shirt from his bag to the bed. “Me, too.”
“You know where I’m at if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Maeve.”
I could barely make it past him before my cheeks became enflamed. Okay, so I was gawking. But who could blame me? Was he actually enjoying it? The smirk on his face was a clue—yes, yes he was.
Jacob waited until I was down the hall to close the door. I showered—in cold water—and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
* * * *
When I cracked my eyes open, it was still dark.
“Maeve,” Jacob whispered. “I need a hand.”
“Use your own hand,” I mumbled, still half asleep.
“What?” he said. “No, it’s the doe. She’s in labor.”
“What?” I cried, propping up on my elbows.
“Get up. Hurry.”
I rolled out of bed after Jacob flicked on the lights and left the room. I didn’t bother changing out of my shorts and cami. I stumbled down the steps, threw on a pair of Aunt Meg’s galoshes, and followed Jacob to the barn.
“I couldn’t sleep and came out here to check on her. Grab some towels and a few feeding bags.”
I did as I was told and hurried back to the kidding stall. I tossed the stuff to Jacob who laid out the towels on the ground.
“Put this on,” he said, tossing me a plastic apron. “This is going to get messy.”
I cringed and tied it around my waist. We matched in shiny aprons and blue galoshes.
“What is that?” I cupped a hand over my mouth and pointed to the doe.
Jacob glanced back at me with a wry smile. “I forgot you have a sensitive stomach. That is the mucous plug.”
I tasted a little bit of bile in the back of my throat. “Oh my God…I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can. Just hold this towel and wait for my directions.” He draped the towel over my arms. I squinted my eyes and paced the stall. The doe let out a painful bleat. Jacob positioned his face in front of the goat’s ass.
“Not so close,” I cried.
“I can see a hoof. She’s having another contraction.” A few seconds passed before he said, “Okay, I see the other hoof…and a tongue.”
“A tongue?” I yelped. “Oh God.”
“Relax. She’s going to sense your nervousness and make this very complicated.”
“Relax,” I panted. “Okay. I can relax.”
“Try some Lamaze,” he said with a smile.
“Very funny,” I replied.
Jacob grabbed a pair of long sterile gloves and slid them up to his elbows. “Okay, I’m going to try and pull the kid out with her next contraction. I’m going to hold it up by its back feet, and you need to wipe off its mouth and nose with the towel.”
I nodded and tried not to think about fainting.
The doe let out another painful bleat.
“Here we go.” He said it like we were about to take a ride down a roller coaster.
Jacob grabbed on to a pair of white hooves with gloved hands. My stomach flopped as I heard a gush of liquid. He slid the baby out and onto one of the feedbags.
“Oh, shit.” My stomach did another flip.
“Quick, come clean him off. We need to get him in front of the mother as soon as possible.”
I trotted over and used the towel to clean off the baby’s face and nose, trying not to think about what I was cleaning. Jacob used a pair of surgical scissors to cut the cord.
“Okay, that should do it.”
“Now what?”
He grabbed another feedbag, cradled the baby, and set it in front of the mother so she could lick him clean. “I’m going to make sure there isn’t another one in there.” He felt around the doe’s belly with both hands. “Squeeze her teats to make sure there’s milk.”
“Excuse me?” This was just getting a little too weird, even for me. “Never had a guy ask me that before.”
“You have to make sure they’re not clogged.”
I let out a sigh. “I cannot believe I’m doing this.” I grabbed at one and gave it a gentle squeeze, a little milk dropping out. “Definitely not clogged.”
“Okay. Good news—there was only one in there.” The baby started to wobble its head. “He might be hungry. We’ll give them a few minutes and then help him nurse.”
“Isn’t this all mother nature’s job?”
“Sometimes even mother nature needs a little help.”
Jacob collected the dirty towels, which I instructed him to burn. There was no way in hell I was putting them into the washing machine. After the doe cleaned the baby off, Jacob gently led the baby to the mom’s milk. Twenty minutes later and it still hadn’t taken in a single drop.
“Eat little guy,” I said, coaxing the kid closer to the mom. “For God’s sake, eat, so we can sleep.” I looked at Jacob. “Maybe he’s not a boob guy.”
He chuckled. “We’ll give him a few more hours to come to his senses. Then we’ll try the bottle.”
Jacob and I tore off our aprons and hosed them off in the back.
“Good job in there,” he said. The crickets chirped as we walked back to the house. “Thanks for not fainting.”
“I’m not going to lie. It was a close call.”
“What happened to the farm girl I used to know?”
“She got ran over by a tractor.”
He laughed and opened the back door for me. “Try to get some sleep. I promise I won’t be hovering over your bed anytime soon.”
Chapter Three
Jacob and I had retired to our separate rooms after another long day. I lay in my bed, twirling my wet hair, still fragrant from the shampoo. There was one television in the house, but I hadn’t been one for TV anyway. I hadn’t brought any books with me, since I didn’t think I’d be staying this long. I was having flashbacks of being bored out of my mind as a kid when the summer had lost its shiny new feeling.
Jacob knocked on the door, even though it was wide open. “Hey.”
I tossed back the strand of hair in between my fingers and looked up at him. “Hi.”
“I have to go to Target. I shouldn’t be too long.”
I practically bounced off the bed. “I’ll come with you.” His eyebrows rose just a hair. “I mean, if that’s okay.”
“Sure,” he said.
We hopped into Uncle Jim’s pickup and bounced in our seats as it negotiated the dirt driveway. Most of the twenty-minute drive was made in silence until I couldn’t take it anymore and turned on the radio.
I’d never been so happy to see a Target.
“Meet back here in fifteen?” Jacob asked.
“Okay.”
He headed toward the toiletries while I made a beeline for the shoes. I perused the aisles, trying to find a pair that wasn’t covered in glitter or topped with an obnoxious flower. I pulled out a pair of six-inch stilettos with a clear heal and silver straps that crisscrossed over the foot. They looked like something I’d wear to work. Who the hell would want to wear these outside a strip club?
I shoved them back into the box when two more people joined me in the a
isle. The girl had a tight grip on her boyfriend’s hand as she used the other one to pull out a pair of shoes. I stole a few glances as they murmured to one another, talking so close their lips almost touched. He said something that made her laugh and then their lips really did touch. It was just a quick peck, but his hand grazed the side of her cheek. You had to be blind not to see the affection in that gesture.
I wandered to the other side of the aisle. After considering three different flip-flops, I was still undecided.
“The blue ones.” Jacob stood behind me, hands full of body wash, razors, and a loofah.
I looked down at my feet. “You think so?”
“Definitely.”
“Has it been fifteen minutes already?”
“Twenty, actually.”
“Sorry.” I put Aunt Meg’s sneakers in the shoebox and left the flip-flops on.
“No big deal. Figured I’d find you here.”
“Why is that?”
“Girls, shoes, just a lucky assumption.”
I smiled and he followed me to the register.
“Sure one pack of razors is going to be enough?” I asked.
We waited in line behind a young girl with a cart full of diapers and baby food. A fussing newborn was strapped to her chest and an impatient toddler was begging her for a piece of candy from the large selection.
Jacob looked down at his purchases. “Thought it was time.”
Without thinking about it, I reached out and brushed my free hand over his cheek. “I like the scruff. It suits you.”
His complexion reddened a little, and I pulled my hand away.
As we walked back to the truck, plastic Target bags in hand, a small breeze carried a savory smell along with it. It made my empty stomach grumble, and I darted my gaze around the rest of the strip mall, trying to find its source.
I walked a few steps in the direction of the smell until coming upon El Coyote. A Mexican flag was illuminated in the front window along with a faux oversized cactus plant with a sombrero resting on it. Spanish music pumped through the little speakers situated on either end of the window.
“Hungry?” I asked Jacob.
He gave the front of the building a onceover. “Kind of looks rundown.”
“Those are the best places.” An older Hispanic couple walked in—a good sign. “Come on,” I said with a smile. I didn’t bother to wait for an answer before heading inside.
The dining room was dimly lit with tea lights and industrial looking lamps hanging over each table.
The hostess greeted us with a warm smile and led us to a booth. The room was bustling with laughter and clinking glasses. A live band was tucked in the corner.
We sat down, and I placed my Target bag in the corner of the booth.
The waitress came right to our table. “Can I get you two something to drink?”
I scanned the menu. “Hmm, margarita?”
She smiled and nodded then looked to Jacob.
“Water’s fine.”
“Okay, I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu.”
I peered at Jacob as he considered what to order. He adjusted his glasses, and I had deduced over the last few days that it was a nervous tic.
A few minutes later, and the waitress reappeared with my margarita and Jacob’s water. We both ordered the fajitas, and she sped off to another table.
“So, tell me what you’ve been up to.” I dipped a chip into salsa.
He shrugged. “High school, college. Worked on a farm for a few years.”
I leaned back in the seat. “How are your parents and brothers?”
“Good. Noah’s in college back home. And Caleb is working for my dad’s real estate company. He helps run the west coast branches.” He took a sip of water. “Are you still doing the ballet thing?
“No.”
“Really? That’s all you used to talk about. I thought it was your dream to become, like, top ballerina or something.”
“Prima Ballerina.”
“Yeah, that.”
“It didn’t exactly work out.” I had quit when I started to worry that it was too much of a financial burden on Aunt Meg and Uncle Jim.
The waitress came back with two sizzling plates, and I inhaled my food—including the margarita.
“What’s with the undecided major thing?” Jacob stabbed at his plate and shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth.
“It’s a decision I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. I want to make sure it’s the right one.” I took a sip of my margarita.
He gave me a disapproving look. “Don’t you have to claim a major by your junior year?”
“I’m close,” I said, cocking one eyebrow. “We can’t all be overachievers, can we?”
“There’s a difference between being an overachiever and being highly motivated.”
I rolled my eyes and held up my glass a little higher. “Well, I’m highly motivated to finish my drink.” I took another long sip.
The band started to pack up, and the dining room crowd dwindled.
“We’ll be closing the dining room soon, but there’s more music at the outside bar,” she said when she came to clear the plates. “Can I get you another margarita?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”
“I can bring it to you outside. You can leave your bags with me, if you want, until you’re ready to leave.”
I slid out of the booth, the margarita sending a warm contentment all the way down to my toes. Jacob looked at his cellphone—to check the time I assumed because it hadn’t rung.
“You up for it?” I asked him.
“Sure,” he said.
Outside, the patio was lined with paper lanterns and packed with people. There was nowhere to sit, not even at the bar. We found a little high-top table in the corner of the room, crammed next to another group of people taking shots. A combination of a live band and a DJ were sprawled along the back of the space. A makeshift dance floor was already crammed.
The waitress weaved through the crowd and dropped off my margarita, along with the bill. After some quick back and forth, I submitted and let Jacob pay the bill, but only if I could leave the tip.
“You want a sip?” I shouted to Jacob. The beat of the music made standing still almost impossible.
“No thanks,” he shouted back. “Need to hit the books later.”
Someone from the next table bumped into me, causing my drink to spill over.
“I’m so sorry,” he said with an accent. The gold chain around his neck glistened against his bronze skin. “Let me buy you another one.”
“It’s fine, really.”
His thick brows narrowed over his dark eyes. “You are here to party, yes?”
I chuckled. “Just dinner.”
He pointed to Jacob, who was doing a good job of hiding in the shadows, and whispered in my ear, “Boyfriend?”
I shook my head.
Someone from his table called the name Javier, to which he responded something back in Spanish. The waitress had just delivered a tray full of shots to his table.
“Ah,” he said, grabbing a few. “You must take one.”
Not one to decline free, well, anything, I took the shot from his hand.
“Amigo,” Javier said to Jacob. “Tequila for you.”
“Oh, no, thank you.”
“Come on,” Javier insisted. “It is rude to refuse.”
“Come on, Jacob,” I prodded. “It’s just one drink.”
Jacob sighed and grabbed the shot.
“Odelay!” Javier shouted. “That’s it, my friend!” He held the shot up, and Jacob and I did the same. He made a toast, with the table of his friends listening in with their own shots, but it was all in Spanish. “Salud,” he finally said.
It seemed like the whole room responded with the same, and we all slung back our shots. I swear I thought Jacob’s face turned green.
Javier called to the waitress who soon came back to the table with another round. Tu
rned out, Javier was visiting family, the owners of the restaurant, and tonight was his welcome celebration. Luckily for Jacob and me—or maybe not for Jacob, according to the look on his face—we’d had quickly become part of the family.
“Okay,” Javier said. “You two.” He pointed to Jacob and me. “It’s time to dance.”
I let out a happy squeal. “Great idea. Come on, Jacob.”
Jacob turned redder than the salsa on the table. “No,” he said almost instantly. “I don’t think so.”
“It’ll be fun,” I said. Or maybe it wouldn’t; he was still in the land of the sober.
“I think I’ll just watch.”
“My friend,” Javier said, reaching for my hand. “When a beautiful woman asks you to dance, you dance.” He pulled me onto the dance floor and pressed his body against mine.
Javier moved around the dance floor like he’d come out of the womb dancing. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. But when your dance partner is as good as mine was, it didn’t matter. He twirled me around and pulled me back close to grind his pelvis against mine. I took a quick look back at the table in-between songs. Jacob was hunched over, looking on, his mouth in a tight line.
“I better get going,” I said to Javier. I pulled a strand of my hair away from my damp cheeks. He reluctantly let me go and had no trouble finding a replacement for the next song.
I grabbed the glass of water Jacob had barely touched and guzzled it down. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
I said goodbye to my new friends with Jacob lagging behind. He’d barely said anything as we got back in the truck to head home.
“Funny how the night turned out, huh?”
“Hilarious,” he said, concentrating on the road.
I ignored his sarcastic tone. “Oh, come on, Jacob. Tell me you didn’t have a little fun. Just a little?” I gestured just how little with my fingers and leaned toward him.
An animal darted across the road, and Jacob swerved the truck to avoid hitting it. The tequila was still running strong through my blood, and I laid my head to rest near his lap.
