by Alison Bliss
“Oh,” was all I could say. I tried not to make a face, but no wonder the smoke smelled weird. Who knows what all was in there? It was a trash can fire, and had it been contained in a barrel, we would’ve resembled a bunch of hobos.
A crackling noise directly behind me caught my attention. An electrical bug zapper with a blue, eerie glow hung from a small pole. It made a faint buzzing sound. Another bug flew into it, making it crackle, sizzle, and spit bug parts back out in all directions.
I ran my hand through the back of my hair, hoping I wouldn’t feel anything resembling bug guts. Then I moved my chair.
Jake tried to stop me. “Emily, you might want to stay between the fire and the bug zapper if you want to keep the mosquitoes from eating you alive.”
“I’m moving over here a little,” I said, although my “little” was about ten feet away.
Once I was away from the fire, I could feel the slight breeze. How Jake could wear jeans and sit close to the heat was beyond me. He had to be hot. Hell, I was, and all I had on was a pair of shorts and a tank top.
Hank and Jake talked between themselves as I deposited myself back into my chair. I tuned them out and closed my eyes, listening to the sounds around me. Locusts buzzed, crickets chirped, and frogs croaked, lulling me into a trance. The most peaceful moment I’d had in the last few days.
A sudden stinging sensation nipped at my ankle. Not bothering to look, I reached down and slapped it away. Something bit my arm and I swatted at that, too. Then another and another. I jumped up, quickly checking my itchy legs, and realized mosquitoes swarmed me, launching a full-blown attack. For every one I killed, five more would take a bite out of me.
All the stomping, kicking, and slapping I did must’ve loosely resembled the German folk dance performed at Oktoberfest, because Jake busted into hysterics. Hank wasn’t far behind him, but I wasn’t amused. My legs would’ve been better protected if I had worn lederhosen.
Floss showed up and sprayed my arms and legs with a cool mist of insect repellent. “There you go, honey. It should help, but sit closer to the fire to keep the little buggers off you.” She then sprayed Hank and Jake as well.
I moved my chair back to Jake’s side and sat, crossing my arms. He had stopped laughing, but I wished he’d wipe the stupid grin off his face. We reeked of insect repellent, had bug guts thrown at us, and our skin and clothes were soaking up trash smoke. I leaned over and whispered, “What did we take showers for?”
He tipped his beer at me. “Welcome to country living.”
…
An hour later, I cowardly clung to Jake’s side as we made our way back to the cottage.
“For Pete’s sake, Emily, they aren’t going to hurt you.”
“If you didn’t want me to hang onto you, then you should’ve let me keep thinking they were birds.”
“Newsflash: birds don’t fly around at night, unless they’re owls. When was the last time you saw a robin or a sparrow after dark? Bats swoop over the lights and eat the insects.”
We stepped over Dog and made our way inside the cottage. I headed straight for the shower. I tousled my wet hair with a towel as I came out.
Jake sat on the edge of the bed. “Feel better?” he asked.
“Yep.”
He pointed to the spot next to him on the bed. “Sit.”
“You could ask me politely. Do you expect me to obey your every command?”
“Yes. Now sit.”
“Tarzan usually beats his chest,” I said, walking past him.
Jake caught me by the arm and pulled me down next to him. He grabbed my ankles, shifting my legs into his lap, which made me fall onto my back. “I don’t know why you have to be difficult.”
Something cold touched my leg. “What are you doing?”
“I’m putting some medicine on your mosquito bites. Otherwise, you’ll be scratching them all night in your sleep.”
I propped myself up on my elbows. “I can do it myself.”
“It’s easier and faster if I do it,” Jake said, rubbing another spot with a cold salve-laden finger. “Lay back. I want to get between your thighs.”
My whole body tensed, making Jake’s fingers stop. I looked at him, and he looked at me. We waited for the awkward moment of double meaning to pass. No doubt we were both still harboring sexual feelings toward each other and thinking the same thing, but I sensed his hesitation. He wasn’t going to give in to temptation. At least not tonight.
Jake’s finger dabbed my skin again as I lay back and closed my eyes. His light touch was torturously teasing, causing shivers to run the length of my body.
“Cold?”
“No, ticklish.” And, apparently, easily aroused.
When he finished with my legs, he worked on my arms. “Okay, I’m done,” Jake said. “I’m going to take a quick shower before bed. You don’t have to wait up.”
As usual, Jake left the bathroom door open. I slipped into the bed and closed my eyes. I tried to slide down the ladder of unconsciousness and into the black hole of slumber, but I got caught in the rungs. The light didn’t bother me. The sound of running water didn’t bother me. No, what bothered me was the naked man in the bathroom who refused to have sex with me but would soon be crawling into the same bed.
Yep. That was it. Jake definitely bothered me.
…
I woke up shivering.
The window unit must’ve been really something, since I’d stolen most of the quilt from Jake, but was still as cold as an ice sculpture. The room wasn’t chilly when I went to bed, which meant he knocked the air conditioner down to…oh, I don’t know, below freezing. Good thing I didn’t have to pee or I would’ve had to acquire a mush team to go to the bathroom and back.
Jake slept diagonally and commandeered an unreasonable chunk of the bed, probably to keep his feet from hanging off the end. He must’ve moved his leg closer because his toes were suddenly touching mine. They were warm, and the small amount of heat felt heavenly against my icicled nubs.
Quietly, I scooted toward him, hoping to soak up some of his thermal energy, but it wasn’t enough. The warmth his body generated wasn’t permeating my skin the way I’d hoped. I wasn’t close enough.
His back was to me, and I could hear him breathing evenly. I reached over with my cold hand and lightly touched his back. I half expected him to jump with surprise or at least flinch away from my cool fingers, but he didn’t. Actually, I jerked back, surprised by the feverish heat of Jake’s skin. It felt pleasant under my slight touch, and I ached for more of his delicious warmth. I scooted closer until my entire body pressed against his back.
“Emily, we talked about this,” Jake said, stirring from his slumber.
“You’re awake?”
He groaned sleepily. “Wasn’t that the point?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I already told you we can’t. It’s against the rules.”
“Can’t?” I paused in confusion. “Oh, wait. You thought I was trying to have sex with you?” I couldn’t help but giggle. “Boy, are you way off!”
Jake wasn’t amused. “Then what were you doing?”
“I’m cold.”
“And…?”
“I poached your body heat, nothing more sinister than that. Besides, you had your chance with me and turned me down flat, remember? I doubt you’ll ever get another. I don’t take rejection well.”
“No! You?” Jake said with a sarcastic tone.
“Hey, I tried to keep from waking you. It’s not my fault if you got the wrong idea.”
“You snuggled up to my back and squished your breasts against me.”
“So?”
“Like you said, you were cold. In the future, you might want to consider wearing a bra to bed.” Jake turned his head to the side, as if he were trying to look at me. “Turn over,” he ordered.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
I rolled over onto my back, while Jake flipped over to face me. H
e grabbed my hip and shifted me onto my side until I faced away from him. Then he wrapped his arm around my waist and slid me back into him until we were in a spooning position. His heat swaddled me.
Jake settled in behind me, getting comfortable, and his hips ground across my bottom. That’s when I noticed the elephant in the room. Actually, it wasn’t an elephant, more like the elephant’s trunk, but nevertheless, it was present and demanding attention.
For a moment, we both lay motionless.
“What’s poking me?”
“An involuntary reflex,” Jake said. “Roll over at your own risk.”
“Is it going to be a chronic condition?”
“God, I hope so. I’m too young to have those kinds of medical issues.”
“I have a cure.”
“What?” he asked. “Sandwiching a pillow between us?”
“Amputation.”
“Never mind,” Jake said grimly. “Problem solved.”
Chapter Seven
Jake roused me from sleep by pulling the covers off me. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead. This is your wake-up call.”
“Don’t you have a snooze button or something? What time is it?”
“After seven.”
“In the morning?”
Jake laughed. “Get up. My aunt will have breakfast ready anytime now. They’re early risers.”
I yawned sleepily and reached for the covers. “I’ll skip breakfast.”
“No you won’t,” Jake said, snatching the quilt away again. “Look, I know you’re stressed out right now, and your life’s been turned completely upside down. You didn’t ask for any of this, and you don’t deserve it, but neither do I. All I ask is that you make both of our lives easier by cooperating.”
“Fine. I’ll cooperate, but that doesn’t mean you can force me to get up at the butt-crack of dawn.” I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face into a pillow. “I’m not going to breakfast. Deal with it.”
“Deal with it, huh?” Jake shuffled around the room, but I didn’t look to see what he was doing. Moments later, he yanked me to the end of the bed by my ankle, pulled me into a sitting position, and handed me some clothes. “You can put these on, or I’ll do it for you.” He stepped back and waited, as if he planned to follow through with his threat.
I crossed my arms and sat there, daring him. “You can’t force—” I jumped up as he strode angrily toward me. “Okay, okay. I’ll get dressed. Jeez, are you always such a grouch in the morning?”
While Jake put on his shoes, I stepped into the bathroom and put on the clothes—a white V-neck top and a pair of denim shorts. I brushed my teeth with the bottled water and ran a comb through my hair. When I came out of the bathroom, Jake was leaning against the wall waiting for me.
“It’s my sexy, I-barely-had-any-sleep look,” I said, slipping my feet into a pair of sandals. “What do you think? Hot, right?” Sarcasm oozed from my rough morning voice.
“It’ll do.” Jake said, pulling me out of the cottage door.
The sounds of birds filled my ears. Roosters crowed, turkeys gobbled, ducks quacked, geese honked. Other chattering noises, too, but I wasn’t sure what type of birds made such weird sounds.
“Look,” I said to Jake. “Dog is gone. I wonder where they buried him.”
“I told you he wasn’t dead, just sleeping.”
“Lucky bastard,” I mumbled under my breath. Maybe if I collapsed from exhaustion out here, Jake would step over me and keep going.
He caught me eyeing Dog’s spot on the porch. “Don’t even think about it.”
Begrudgingly, I followed Jake up the stairs and into the main house. The inside was more appealing than I imagined. It had arched doorways, high ceilings, and décor colored in varying shades of brown with white woodwork around the fireplace and mantle. We traipsed farther into the house, stopping once we reached the kitchen. The dark plank floors looked new, complemented by the antique milk glass attractively displayed above the white cabinetry.
From the front door, I smelled bacon frying, but the aroma was much more intense in the kitchen. I instantly changed my mind about skipping breakfast. In fact, I was starving.
“Come on in and have a seat,” Floss said, a smile beaming on her slender face as she cracked an egg into a frying pan. “Breakfast will be ready in two minutes.”
We joined Hank at the kitchen table, where he drank his coffee and gazed out the window. “Morning,” he said, turning to us. “Sleep well?”
“Yep,” Jake said. “Always do when I’m here.”
I shrugged. “Well, I didn’t. Something kept poking me in the back all night long.”
Jake glanced over at me with wide eyes and a flustered look, but then he composed himself. “Must be a broken spring on that side of the bed. I’ll trade sides with you tonight.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to help—ouch!” Jake glared at me as he pinched my leg under the table. “What?” I said, rubbing my thigh.
Oblivious, Floss hummed to herself as she cracked another egg into the frying pan, but Hank smirked over at me. At least one of them knew Jake was a big, fat liar.
…
I didn’t walk away from breakfast unscathed. In fact, I wasn’t sure I could still walk. At home, my normal morning fare consisted of yogurt and granola, maybe some fresh fruit. Today was different. I inhaled three fried eggs, a pile of grits swimming in butter, at least a half pound of bacon, and two fluffy homemade biscuits slathered with mayhaw jelly.
Though I’d never heard of it, mayhaw jelly was a kitchen staple around here. Being a Yankee, I hadn’t expected to like the tart red jelly, but it tasted similar to a crabapple. Then again, all of the food was good. I couldn’t stop eating, and I paid for it. Everything hurt. My chest. My stomach. My jaw hurt from chewing. I don’t know what I was thinking. Well, actually I do. God, I hope I don’t burp egg all day.
Floss put eggshells and wet coffee grinds into a bowl. She asked Jake to dump them on the compost pile while he showed me around the farm. Then she handed me a pair of mud boots. Guess I wasn’t taking a nap.
Though it was early, the day was already heating up. The bright sun forced me to squint until my eyes adjusted, and the warm breeze touched my skin, leaving a slight sheen of perspiration behind.
I walked behind Jake, following him to the back of the house. The weeds got taller, and the air got smellier the closer we came to the compost bin near the fence line.
“Keep an eye out for snakes,” Jake warned. “Bird farms attract a lot of them. If you smell something similar to watermelon, stop moving.”
“Why?” I asked, releasing the hold I had on my nose.
“Water moccasins are known for the scent. If you smell it, then chances are, one is nearby.”
I stopped moving. “I’ll wait right here for you.”
Jake kept walking. From a short distance, I watched him dump the bowl of scraps into a large bin before he headed back. Leading the way back through the tall grass, I hoped he’d clear the path of any lurking watermelon mines.
Hank and Floss stood outside the pole barn, where a lot of banging was going on. When we joined them, Jake handed her the empty scraps bowl.
“What’s that noise?” Jake asked Hank.
“Our palomino colt. Come on and you can take a look.”
We followed Hank into the barn, where I got my first up-close-and-personal whiff of horseshit. The pungent odor wafted up from the floor. I made an airtight seal over my nose with my shirt and fingers. Too bad horses don’t smell like watermelon.
A lively white colt with bright blue eyes and wearing a red halter stood at attention, watching us warily. He stamped his hooves into the spongy ground and ran back and forth in his stall. He pawed the gate, but when it didn’t accomplish anything, he kicked his back hooves against the wall, rattling the tin.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.
“He’s spirited and wild at heart. Had to separate him from his momma. She’s due to foal aga
in, and he refuses to wean. He’s nothing but a momma’s boy, but he makes an awful ruckus, doesn’t he?”
“You plan on selling him?” Jake asked.
“I wanted to keep him, but the bastard’s destroying the stall,” Hank said over the loud beating and banging. “I need to move him to the back pasture, away from his momma. That way I can clean out his stall and replace the tin without getting kicked. Maybe you can help me, Jake.”
“Sure. No problem,” Jake said. “Emily, you might want to stand back when I lead him out.”
Floss and I stepped away, leaning against a wood post near the hay storage. We watched Jake open the gate with a lead rope in hand. When Jake entered the stall, he was out of my field of vision briefly, but long enough for my palms to sweat. I breathed easier once Jake came out of the gate with the lead attached to the colt.
Jake led him toward the back pasture. They walked easily together most of the way, though Jake had to steady him a couple of times before he got the wiry colt through the back gate and released him.
Hank led another palomino, a large stallion with a flaxen mane and a calm demeanor, out of a stall nearby and passed him off to Jake. “This is his daddy. Put him in the same pasture,” Hank said. “That should calm the colt down.”
“Is that your trusty steed?” I asked, grinning.
“About as trusty as they come,” Hank answered. “He reminds me a lot of Jake, strong and steadfast.”
Jake released the stallion into the back pasture. He rubbed his hand slowly over the stallion’s smooth neck, whispered sweet nothings to soothe him, and patted him roughly on his hindquarters to turn him loose. Then Jake turned, and our eyes met and held for several seconds.
Damn. Leave it to me to be envious of a horse.
When he got back to the barn, Jake slipped on a pair of gloves, grabbed a wheelbarrow and a shovel, and pushed them into the colt’s stall.
“I think they could use some lemonade,” Floss said. “I have some upstairs in the fridge. Want to help me bring it down?”
“Sure, Mrs. Mill—” I stopped mid-word and wondered if she’d threaten to bend me over her knee. She was smaller than I was, though. I thought I could probably take her.
