Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A gallon of water even though it was less than a one-mile hike? Check.

Brand-new hiking boots I had only tried breaking in walking around the apartment that were more than likely going to give me blisters? Check.

Two granola bars even though I’d just eaten breakfast? Check.

Two days later, I was ready to go. It was my first day off since Clara had hired me, and I was going to try and knock out the short hike to the waterfalls. I’d been guzzling down so much water in an effort to avoid getting altitude sickness that I’d woken up three times last night to pee. I didn’t have time to get hangover-like symptoms.

Plus I was hoping that the hike would get my mind off how useless I was at the shop.

Just thinking about the shop got me to stop with the Spice Girls lyrics I’d been singing under my breath.

My first and only day had gone just as bad as I’d worried it would, as I’d warned Clara it could. The shame of staring blankly at one customer after another when they asked questions hurt me. Literally hurt me. I wasn’t used to feeling incompetent, to having to ask one question after another because I literally had no clue what in the world the customers were referring to or asking for.

Beads? Leaded weights? Recommendations? Just thinking about how bad yesterday had gone made me cringe.

What I needed to do was figure out a solution, especially if I was planning on sticking around for much longer. A couple times—mostly when customers were extra kind when I didn’t know things, especially when they were almost condescending, telling me not to worry my pretty head, because that got under my skin like nothing else could—I thought about quitting, letting Clara find someone who knew more about anything in the store than I did, but then all I had to do was look at the dark circles under her eyes, and I knew I wouldn’t. She needed help. And even if all I did was ring people up and save her two minutes, it was something.

I think.

I had to suck it up and learn faster. Somehow. I’d worry about it later. Stressing over screwing up had robbed me of enough sleep last night.

Down the stairs and out the door, I stopped to lock it and headed around to get to my car, but I caught something moving out of the corner of my eye by the main house.

It was Amos.

I lifted a hand as he sat on one of the deck chairs, a game console clutched in his hand. “Hi.”

He stopped, like I’d surprised him, and lifted a hand up too. His “Hi” wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but it wasn’t mean either. I was pretty positive he was just shy.

AndI wasn’t supposed to be talking to him. Invisible. I was supposed to be invisible.

“See you later!” I called out before ducking into my car and reversing.

At least his dad hadn’t caught me.

Almost five hours later, I was pulling back up to the garage apartment and giving myself the middle finger.

“Fucking idiot,” I told myself for at least the tenth time as I parked my car and tried to ignore the tightness in my shoulders.

I was going to be hurting soon. Very, very soon. And it was all my fault.

I’d taken for granted the fact that I was tanner now than I’d been in years. Mostly from all the outside time I’d spent in Utah and Arizona. What I hadn’t done was take into consideration the change in altitude. How much more intense the UV rays were here.

Because over the course of the short hike to the falls and back, I’d gotten roasted despite having a base coat. My shoulders were hot and stung like a son of a bitch. All because my dumb ass had forgotten to put sunblock on and I’d spent too much time sitting on a rock, talking to an older couple who hadn’t been feeling so well.

On the bright side, the drive toward the falls was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, and I’d had to pull over a bunch of times just to take in the wilderness without pissing off the cars behind me. I had also taken advantage of the stops to pee while I was at it.

It was magical. Spectacular. The landscape was straight out of a movie. How had I forgotten that? I had a couple of blurry memories of going there with Mom before, nothing real concrete but just enough.

But none of that compared to the simple feeling and power of the falls. It wasn’t extraordinarily tall, but it dropped so much water, it was pretty amazing to witness. It left me in awe, really. Only Mother Nature could make you feel so small. The trail and falls were pretty packed, and I’d taken pictures for a family and two couples. I’d even sent my uncle some pictures when I’d gotten cell service reception. He’d texted me back a couple of thumbs-up, and my aunt had called and asked me if I was crazy for crossing the river over a big log that had been draped across it.

“Owwie, oww, oww,” I hissed to myself as I got out of the car and went around the other side. I grabbed my little backpack and gallon of water and shut the door with my hip, feeling the heat on my skin some more and groaning.

Like an idiot, I instantly forgot and slipped the strap of my backpack over my shoulder and, just as quickly, slid that son of a bitch back off with a cry that made me sound like I was getting murdered.

“Are you okay?” a voice that sounded only slightly familiar called out.

I turned around to find Amos sitting in a different chair than the one I’d last seen him in on the deck, holding his game console in one hand and squinting hard while his other one hovered just above his eyes to block out the sun so he could get a good look at my lobster reenactment.

“Hi. I’m all right, just gave myself a second-degree sunburn, I think. No big deal,” I joked, groaning when my shoulder gave another throb of pain from contact with the strap.

I almost didn’t hear him say, “We got aloe vera,” quietly.

I just about dropped my bag.

“You can get some if you want.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. Setting my bag down on the ground after grabbing my Swiss Army knife, I walked toward the house. Up the stairs, I headed over to where he was. In a ratty T-shirt and even rattier sweatpants with a couple holes in them, he gestured to the side, and I could see a medium-sized aloe vera plant in a plain orange pot next to a cactus and something that had once been alive but hadn’t been in a while.

“Thank you for offering,” I told him as I kneeled beside the pot and picked out a nice, thick leaf. I glanced at him and caught him watching me. He looked away. “Did you get in trouble over the garage apartment?” I asked.

There was a pause, then, “Yeah,” he replied hesitantly, still quietly.

“Big trouble?”

Another pause before, “I got grounded.” One more beat of silence, then, “You went hiking?”

I glanced up at him and smiled. “I did. I went to Piedra Falls. I got roasted.” The whole thing had felt a whole lot farther than a half mile. I’d started bitching about five minutes in, at how thirsty I was and how much I regretted refilling an old bottle I’d found on the floor of my car so that I wouldn’t have to carry the entire gallon. I’d had a harder time breathing than I would have expected, but it was practice. So I wasn’t going to beat myself up too much about how I’d been panting and sweating while going through a canopy of trees lining the trail.

ButI decided I was going to have to start doing some other kind of harder cardio because, holy shit, I’d die doing one of the ten-mile trips I wanted to take—if I stayed and could.

After the shit show that yesterday had been at work, I wasn’t totally sure if things were going to work out . . . but I still hoped they did.

No one really missed me in Florida. They loved me, but they had gotten used to me living away for so long that I knew it had to be weird that I’d come back. My aunt and uncle had gotten used to living home alone, even though they’d accepted me with open arms and nurtured me back to a healed heart. Or at least a mostly healed one. My cousins all had their own lives too.

And my friends cared about me, but they had three thousand things going on as well.

“How’d you get burned?” he asked after another moment of silence.

“There was a couple there who had gotten light-headed right at the base, and I hung out with them until they felt good enough to hike back to their car,” I explained.

The boy didn’t say anything, but I could see his fingertips tapping along the border of his Nintendo as I finished cutting through the leaf. “Sorry.” He was focused on his console. “About Dad getting pissed. I should’ve told him, but I know he would’ve said no.”

“It’s okay.” I mean, it wasn’t, but his dad already bitched him out, I was sure. Something could have happened to him if he’d rented the place out to the wrong person. But you know, I wasn’t his mom, and his sneakiness got me this place I liked, so I’d be a hypocrite to give him a hard time. “Did you get grounded for a long time?”

His “yeah” was so disappointed, I felt bad.

“I’m sorry.”

“He deposited the money into my savings account.” One slim finger picked at a hole in his sweatpants. “Can’t use it anytime soon though.”

I winced. “Hopefully your parents will change their mind.”

He made a face aimed at his console that told me he wasn’t holding his breath.

Poor guy. “I don’t want to upset your dad any more; I’ll let you get back to your game. Thank you for letting me get some aloe. Yell if you need something. I have the windows open.”

He glanced at me then and nodded, watching me head back down the deck and across the gravel toward the garage apartment.

I thought about Kaden and his new girlfriend for a split second.

Then I shrugged that loser off.

I had better things to think about. Starting with this sunburn and ending with just about anything else.

A week went by in the blink of an eye.

I worked—crashed and burned half the time was more like it—and slowly started to get to know Clara again. Her niece, Jackie, came in and helped a few days a week; she was nice but she kind of just stuck to herself and listened to Clara and me when we had time between customers, and I worried she didn’t like me even though I’d brought her a Frappuccino and tried to share my snacks with her. I didn’t think she was shy from the way she spoke to customers, but I was still working on her.

Clara, though, was a good boss and worked harder than most people, and as much as I knew I was terrible at my job, I kept trying because she needed the help. No one new had come in to apply for a job while I was there either, so I was well aware that didn’t help.

I started jumping rope a little longer every day.

When I was “home” and wasn’t in the middle of reading or watching something I’d downloaded onto my tablet, I spied on my neighbors. Sometimes Amos caught me and waved, but most of the time, I got away with it. I hoped.

What I’d learned was that his dad, who I’d confirmed wasMr. Rhodes because I’d used binoculars and read the name embroidered on his uniform shirt, was gone all the time. Literally. His car was missing by the time I left, and he usually wasn’t back until seven most days. The teenager, Amos, didn’t leave the house ever—I only saw him on the deck—and I guessed that was because he’d been grounded.

And in the little over a week that I’d been at the garage apartment, not once had I seen any other car show up.

It really was just Mr. Rhodes and his son, I was pretty sure. The time I’d read the older man’s name, I might have also peeked at his hand to see there wasn’t a wedding ring there.

Speaking of Amos, I was considering him my second friend in town even though we only waved at each other and he’d said about ten words to me since the day he’d saved me from my sunburn with his offer. Even though I talked a lot at work, asking a lot of questions to try and figure out what customers wanted because I didn’t get half the shit that came out of their mouths—why some people chose to use water purifying tablets instead of buying a bottle with a built-in filter was still beyond me—I hadn’t really made friends yet.

I was a little lonely. All the customers I’d dealt with had been too nice to give me a hard time for not being able to answer their questions, but I dreaded the day I pissed off the wrong person and smiling at them and trying to make a joke wouldn’t work like it usually did to get me out of trouble.

No one ever told you how hard it was to make friends as an adult. But it was hard. Real hard.

I was working on it. Quality over quantity.

Nori, Yuki’s sister and my friend too, texted. Yuki called. My cousins reached out and asked when I was coming back. (Never.)

Things were . . . coming along.

I had hope.

And I was in the middle of getting dressed, making a mental plan to go to the grocery store this evening, when my phone pinged with an incoming email. I stopped to take a peek at the screen.

The email was from a K.D. Jones.

I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek.

There was no subject. I shouldn’t waste my time, but . . . I was weak. I clicked on the message and prepared myself.

It was short and simple though.

Roro,

I know you’re mad but call me back.

K

Kaden knew I was mad?

Me? Mad?

Hahahahahahahaha

I would set his Rolls-Royce on fire if I had the chance and sleep just fine.

And I was thinking of a dozen other things I could do to him without feeling guilty as I got into my car a few minutes later and tried to turn it on.

There was no click. Not a slight turn. Nothing.

It was karma. It was karma, and I knew it, for thinking ugly things. At least that’s what Yuki would say . . . if it was anyone other than Kaden I was wishing shitty things upon.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I wrapped my fingers around the wheel and tried to shake it with an “Oh, fuck youuuuuu.” Then I tried to shake it again. “Fuck!”

I was so busy yelling at the steering wheel that I barely heard the knock on my window.

Mr. Rhodes stood there, eyebrows slightly up.

Yeah, he’d heard me. He’d heard it all. At least I’d had the windows up. I hadn’t been paying attention and didn’t notice he was still home.

Peeling my fingers off the stranglehold they had on the steering wheel, I swallowed my frustration and opened the door slowly, giving him time to back up. He took a single big step, giving me a view of a red cooler in one hand and a travel coffee mug in the other. He was even better looking up close and personal in daylight, I realized.

I’d thought his jaw and brow bones had been a masterpiece when I’d creeped on him before, but now, just feet away, they still were, but the gentle cleft in his chin got added to the list.

I’d bet if he was in a game warden calendar, it would sell out every year.

“. . . didn’t work?” he asked.

I blinked and tried to figure out what he was talking about since I’d zoned out. I had no idea. “What?” I asked, trying to focus.

“Telling your car to fuck itself didn’t make it turn on?” he asked in that same level, hard voice from a week ago, both of his thick eyebrows still up.

Was he . . . joking? I blinked. “No, she doesn’t like being bullied,” I told him, deadpan.

One eyebrow went up a little higher.

I smiled.

He didn’t smile, but he did take a step back. “Pop the hood,” Mr. Rhodes said, flicking his fingers toward himself. “I don’t have all day.”

Oh. I reached inside and opened it as he set his cooler down and his coffee, or whatever was in there, on top of it. He went straight for ducking under the hood as I circled around to stand beside him.

Like I knew what I was looking at.

“How old’s your battery?” he asked as he tinkered with something and pulled it out. It was a dipstick. For the oil. There was some on it. I was pretty good at getting it changed on time. I figured it couldn’t be that.

“Um, I don’t know? Four years?” It might be more like five; it was the original. The Joneses had given me so much crap for not trading my car in every year like they did. Fortunately for me though, Mrs. Jones hadn’t wanted me driving around a car under their last name in case I was pulled over, so I’d bought it on my own. It was and had always been all mine.

He nodded, attention focused on my engine, then took another step back. “Your terminals are corroded and need a clean. I’ll give you a jump and see if that’ll get you going until you get it fixed.”

Corroded? I leaned in, coming in to step beside him, just inches away, and peeked inside. “Is it that white stuff?”

There was a pause and then, “Yes.”

I peeked at him. He had a really nice voice . . . when he wasn’t snapping out words like a whip.

Up this close . . . I guess he had to be six-three. Six-four. Maybe a little taller.

Why was this guy not married? Where was Amos’s mom? Why was I so nosey?

“Okay, I’ll get it cleaned,” I said brightly, focusing before he got irritated with me for checking him out. I could just do it from upstairs tomorrow.

Mr. Rhodes didn’t say another word before he headed toward his truck. In no time at all, he pulled it up alongside my car and then farted around in the back cab before coming back with jumper cables. I stood there and watched as he hooked them up to my battery and then opened his own hood and did the same.

If I was expecting him to stand there and talk to me, I would’ve been disappointed. Mr. Rhodes went and sat in his truck . . . but I was pretty sure he was looking at me through the windshield.

I smiled.

He either pretended not to see me or decided just not to smile back.

I stood there, looking at my car’s engine like I recognized some of it when I damn well did not. After a minute, I leaned in and snapped a picture of the cables hooked up to my battery, just in case I ever had to do it. I should get an emergency kit while I was at it. I still needed to get bear spray.

What could only have been a couple minutes later, he hung his head out of the window. “Try her now.”

I nodded and dodged inside, making a quick plead for her to not do this shit to me, and turned the key.

She squealed to life, and I fist pumped the air.

Mr. Rhodes slid out of his truck and quickly undid the cables from our batteries, going back around his truck in the time it took me to close my hood, and depositing his cables somewhere in his back seat. I reached up to try and close his hood but couldn’t reach. He slid me a side look as he lifted a hand and slammed it shut.

I grinned up at him. His khaki-colored work shirt hugged the broad line of his shoulders and tapered into the grayish-blue pants it was tucked into. That hair of his was something else too, that silver with the brown . . . He really was way too attractive. “Thank you so much.”

He grunted. Then he crouched down, making me freeze because his face went right by my shoulder and side, but popped back up with his cooler and coffee mug. He was out of there, back around his truck, and then jumping in. He hesitated.

Mr. Rhodes nodded at me and then reversed so fast I was impressed.

He’d helped.

And hadn’t kicked me out even if he’d looked like he would rather be just about anywhere else.

Something was something.

And I had to get to work.