23. Jacob

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

jacob

I stomp a foot down on the paver stepping stone, making sure it's securely placed, and stand back to inspect my handiwork. Lacey wanted stepping stones from the gravel lot to the deck. I have a feeling she mentioned it to me because she knew I would end up doing the labor for her. She knows I like to help out with her projects. And that's all it is. I'm not looking for excuses to spend time with her like Jalynn evidently suspects. I just want to help Lacey out. She doesn't have many people in her corner, but I can be one of the few who are.

"It looks good," Lacey says from up on the deck.

"I think it should do," I say, looking over the stones.

"How much do I owe you?" Lacey leans down, resting her elbows on the deck rail.

Lacey knows I won't take her money, but she offers anyway. Every single time. Honestly, I don't know why she insists on asking. George says it's a Southern thing.

"You said the stepping stones would make it easier for you to wear those fancy high heels, right?"

"Yeah, it's hard to walk in the yard with stilettos on."

"So you're going to be wearing them more often, right?"

"Right."

"That's payment enough," I say with a wicked smile.

Lacey rolls her eyes at me, but I can tell she's amused. She enjoys the flirty banter, almost as much as I do.

"What am I gonna do with you?" she asks playfully, shaking her head at me. "You should probably come inside and have a cold drink after all your hard work."

I step up on the deck and follow Lacey inside. She's already examining the options in the fridge when I make it inside. She spins around, a water in one hand and a Coke in the other, and waits for me to choose. I take the Coke, letting my fingers brush against hers, and crack it open. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see who's interrupting my day. It's vet business.

"Looks like I've got to go," I tell her after my brief conversation on the phone. "Some folks have a bloated cow that needs my attention."

I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure it's disappointment that flashes in her eyes. Or maybe it's just a reflection of the disappointment I'm feeling.

"Let me come with you. I've always wondered what to do about a bloated cow," Lacey says.

"You've always wondered?" I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Who knows, I might run into a wild cow one day who needs rescuing from bloat."

"Fair enough," I say after a slight hesitation. "You never know when you might come across a cow in the wild needing rescuing. You're going to have to put some shoes on, though. And unfortunately, those high heels we were just talking about won't do it for this one."

Lacey is grinning from ear to ear as she skips back to her closet to grab her boots. All can be made right in the world by that smile.

Forty-five minutes pass by, and we're pulling up to a barn. The old farmer walks out of the barn and greets me as I exit the truck, and I grab my vet bag from the back. The farmer leads us around the back of the barn where his sick cow is contained away from the rest of the herd, her stomach swollen and distended. I look the cow over, examining her.

"Looks like we have more than bloat going on here," I observe. "Looks like she's got pneumonia, too."

"How can you tell?" Lacey asks.

Lacey is standing on the other side of the cow's head. She's petting the bovine, while talking to her in soothing tones. It's such a different experience out here with her.

"You see all that mucus coming out of her nose? She's got a high temperature, too. We'll give her a shot of antibiotics, though, after we release some of this bloat, and she should be good to go."

I make an incision in the cow's tough hide while Lacey continues petting her as though our patient is a little puppy.

"Can you hand me that trocar?" I ask her.

"Tro-who?" she asks.

"The red corkscrew-looking thing in my bag."

Lacey reaches into my bag, pulling out the trocar, and hands it over to me. She peeks over the cow's back to see what I'm about to do. Quickly, I shove it into the incision and pull out the center allowing the trapped gas to escape from the cow's belly. After a couple of minutes and insistent pleading from Lacey to be allowed to help "with the doctoring" as she calls it, I instruct her on administering the shot of antibiotics.

"That should do it," I tell the farmer. "Give it about a week. If everything has gone back down then you can take the trocar out. It should finish healing up on its own."

"Look at you, out here saving lives," Lacey says back in my pickup, out of earshot of the farmer.

"Somebody's got to be the hero," I joke. "It's just what I do. Saving humanity one gassy cow at a time."

Lacey yawns as I pull back onto the road. Soon, her eyes drift closed, and her head slowly relaxes over on my shoulder. I take in the sight of her in a peaceful slumber. Goose bumps break out across her skin from the cool evening air. I reach between my seat and the door, into the back of the cab, and pull my jacket back through. I lay it over Lacey, tucking it around her shoulders. Without thinking, I kiss the top of her head. She stirs momentarily and links her arm through mine, snuggling into my side. I let my right hand slide off the gear shifter and onto her thigh as I drive us down the road, headed for Lacey's gypsy wagon.

I take a swig from the carton of orange juice in my parents' fridge, and Mom glowers at me. I close the carton and set it back in the fridge.

"I thought once you were grown I wouldn't have to worry about you drinking straight out of the cartons in my fridge anymore. I thought maybe you'd be drinking out of the cartons in your own fridge," Mom says.

"You have better stuff in yours, though," I say.

I've spent the morning helping Dad with a remodel on their bathroom. Finished for the day, I pull my phone out of my pocket to send a text to Lacey. I haven't heard from her today.

Me: What are you up to?

Lacey: Not a dang thing. You?

Me: Just finished helping my parents.

Lacey: I'm bored.

Me: Want me to come over?

Lacey: Let's go see a movie!

Me: Pick you up in 20.

I say my goodbyes to my parents and leave to pick up Lacey. I'd told myself I wasn't going to see her this weekend, but clearly, I have no fucking self-control. I've only been to her place twice this week, though. And I saw her at work one day. I could have just called my mother to let her know I'd be bringing the load of fertilizer for her garden next week, but I was near the flower shop anyway, so it made sense just to swing by. It had nothing to do with the high probably that I would run into Lacey in the process.

I tap on her door and wait. I hear a loud thud, followed by a muffled expletive, and I chuckle to myself. The door swings open, and Lacey stands there looking as beautiful as ever, bent over and sliding her foot into one of those spiky high heels that make her ass look delicious. It's a good thing we're on our way to a movie so I don't have to worry about trying to keep my eyes off her.

"Hey," Lacey says, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Hey. Do you need more time getting ready?"

"Should I take more time? Are you telling me I look bad?" Lacey asks, straightening. She looks down at her outfit and raises her eyes back to me inquisitively.

"Nope. You look great," I say, backpedaling. "You seem rushed is all. Let's go."

I hold the door for her as she steps out onto the deck and wait for her to lock up. With the door locked, I motion for Lacey to lead the way down the stairs. That was a mistake. My eyes keep drifting down to the view as she walks ahead of me, which in turn prompts a series of thoughts I'm not supposed to be having about her. I reach past her and open the door for her to climb into the truck, then round the hood to the driver's seat.

"What movie do you want to see?" I ask.

"Have you heard about the one called Meet You in My Dreams ?" Lacey asks.

"I'm not going to a chick flick. Next?"

"Technically, it's a romance, but there's a lot of action and violence in it. It's one of those movies that everyone enjoys."

"I don't want to be the only guy in the theater."

"You won't be. I went to see it with Jalynn last weekend, and it was so good! And there were a ton of guys watching, too. Honestly, I'd say it was about fifty-fifty," she insists. "Please?"

I groan, looking down into her pouty face, and begin to feel my resolve waiver. When did I become such a pushover?

"You swear?" I ask, unamused.

"Scout's honor!"

I buy two tickets to Meet You in My Dreams , a large popcorn to share, two drinks, and a box of Milk Duds for Lacey, but I'm pretty sure I really just paid for my castration. Lacey leads us to the theater our movie is showing in and hands our tickets to the attendant, conveniently leaving me with the chore of trying not to look at her ass again.

"I thought you said there would be other men here," I whisper into her ear as we scan over the theater for our seats. Her hair tickles my nose, and her vanilla scent almost sends me to my knees. I'm in big trouble.

"It hasn't even started yet. I'm sure more men will show up."

We find our seats midway up the stairs and settle in. Lacey lifts the armrest between our seats so the bucket of popcorn can rest in the middle. I lean back in my seat, debating my life choices as the commercials and previews play. The opening credits roll, followed by a very heated love scene that leaves little to the imagination.

Fuck.

In an effort to keep the combination of Lacey and sex out of my head, I look around the theater at the other attendees. Almost every seat is taken, but I'm the only penis-wielding spectator in the place. I pull my phone out, turn the brightness down all the way, and start scrolling social media.

"Put your phone away!" Lacey scolds me.

"How did I let you talk me into this?" I groan in response but do as I'm told.

After 107 more minutes of romance, tears, and sex, the movie finally comes to an end. I don't waste any time gathering our trash and joining the slow-moving throng of people exiting the theater. Lacey walks beside me, her arm linked in mine.

"What a sweet husband to come watch this movie with your girl," gushes the lady behind us in line. I don't have a chance to speak up.

"He loves to spoil me," Lacey says.

"You better hold on to that one. The good ones are hard to find," the lady adds.

I dump our trash in the trash can at the door of the theater and lead us through the crowd and out to my truck, fuming the whole while. I catch Lacey chewing her bottom lip like she does when she is nervous. She probably thinks I'm mad about being tricked into sitting through that movie, but that's not it entirely. I'm pissed that I want her badly enough to sit through a miserable fucking movie.

"Are you mad?" Lacey eventually asks, once we are in the truck.

"I'm annoyed," I say, hoping she doesn't press for me to expound.

"Let me make it up to you. Let me buy you some ice cream."

I sigh and shift in my seat to look at Lacey. She's watching me with those gorgeous eyes, still biting her bottom lip. I've got to learn how to say no to this woman. I don't want a relationship, and all I'm going to do by humoring her is get the both of us hurt.

"Okay," I say and fire up the engine of the truck.

I sit across from Lacey and try not to watch her too closely as she works each spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. It's too easy to get lost in thoughts of things I want to do to that mouth.

"You should have let me pay. I said I would," Lacey says.

"I know, but if my dad taught me anything, he taught me to always hold the door and never let the girl pay on a date."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could stuff them back in.

"A date, huh?" Lacey asks. "Are you saying this is a date?"

"No. The same principle applies, though."

"You know, it could be a date." Lacey digs intently at the ice cream in her cup.

"Could be. But it's not."

"Why not? Is there someone else you'd rather date?" She's looking directly at me now.

"Gypsy, I like you. We spend so much time together, I don't have time to meet any other women. And I'm okay with that because I don't want a relationship with anyone right now."

"Okay."

She looks slightly deflated and is suddenly focusing very hard on her ice cream cup. And I feel like a complete douche.

"Lace—"

"We should get back. You ready to go?"

Lacey gives me a weak smile. I hate myself right now. I hate that I'm the cause of the disappointment on her face.

"Yeah, let's get you home."