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“You know,” I glance sideways at her, “you could have marked vegetarian on the form you filled out.”
“I know,” Jack says, shuffling her socked feet. “But I didn’t want to seem high maintenance, so I left the field blank. I thought I put in a comment, though.”
“We only ask so we can prepare.” I crack two eggs into a measuring cup, chop up the ingredients, pour it all into the sizzling pan, and stir the entire time.
“It smells so good,” Jack says, pulling herself up onto the island.
When it’s done, I put her eggs on a plate and sprinkle them with some salt and pepper. “Here you go.”
Jack takes the plate, digs her fork into the eggs, and moans when she takes the first bite. Then, she covers her mouth with one hand as she chews. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she repeats after swallowing. “These are the best eggs I’ve ever had. Thank you.”
While she eats, I wash and put away the pan. She finishes quickly and I do the same with her plate and fork. Drying my hands on the dish towel, I say, “I have to be up in two hours. You only have three. You should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
I help her down from the counter and turn to go to bed. I don’t make it two steps before I feel her small hand latching onto my arm.
“Thanks again, Luca,” Jack says and then pulls on my bicep, so I pause and meet her gaze. There’s an unexpected, sparkling curiosity there, and the corners of her lips turn up as she asks, “I’m really curious about your college education.”
A tightness forms in my chest, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I’m standing in a kitchen with an undeniably attractive woman in the middle of the night. But I only met her a few hours earlier. Or perhaps the squeeze is because I’d rather talk about anything other than rehashing my life in California.
“There’s not much to tell. The most exciting thing I did was win a debate competition,” I answer but then I decide I should be a little more cordial about it. I try, but I fear the words still sound snarky. “Let me guess, you’re a Berkeley girl?”
“I am!” Jack’s eyes widen and she puts her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I am. How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.” But not that lucky. She fits the profile. Jack looks like she comes from money. Even her pajamas are fancy. Especially compared to my faded and ripped jeans. But she’s also someone who seems to care about her urban footprint. Her parents are probably techies or in the medical profession. Granolas who wear Tevas and spend their weekends hiking and picking up trash before returning to their multi-million-dollar home in the hills and sipping expensive Napa Valley wine as they soak their sore muscles in a hot tub overlooking the sea.
Jack washes her hands in the sink. “I’m just surprised to hear you studied at a prestigious school. I mean, most probably rarely make that choice and then end up working on a dude ranch.” Jack stretches her arms high above her head, revealing just a sliver of skin at her midsection.
I avert my eyes, knowing I’m entering dangerous territory here. “Well, I’m not like most people.” I switch the kitchen light off, and Jack follows me into the hallway. “Now, get to bed. The sun is going to be up before you know it.”
When I make it back to Wyatt and Emma’s room, I lay on top of the covers, not bothering to remove my jeans. But instead of falling back asleep, I rest my head on my arms, stare at the ceiling, and try to think about anything but Jack.
Chapter Four
Jack
The alarm on my phonestarts softly, and I tug my pillow over my head. The jangling sound is nothing, muffled in truth compared to the clanging of metal against metal that begins outside the window. I groan and pull the pillow tighter, pushing the plushness into my ears. The pounding could just be the call to breakfast rather than a real headache, but it’s hard to tell with that racket. Today is not the day.
The iron clanging finally ceases, and I call over to Emma. “Can I sleep for one more hour before we have to go? We’re really in no rush to get on with this drive.”
No reply.
I lift the pillow and peer over to the cot on the other side of the room.
Empty.
Thuds, likely my team members’ boots, echo from the hallway as I drag myself from bed. I don’t even look at the time. It’s dark. Not an hour when normal human beings are up and eating. When a rooster outside calls for the morning sun, I groan and crawl back under the covers. Everyone has to eat before it’ll be time to roll, so I can get another half hour at least. After re-setting the alarm, my eyes drift closed . . . toward some blessed sleep.
The rooster calls again, and it’s not the sound we all learned in kindergarten when we all sang “The Farmer in the Dell.” Before much longer, a donkey joins the obnoxious chorus. The doorknob clicks and the hinges whine as light floods in from the hallway. Maybe if I’m still, they’ll leave.
A second later, someone tugs on the sheets. “You gotta get moving, Jack.” Emma’s voice cuts through my clouded brain. “We’ve got breakfast burritos to take along. It’s riding and eating at the same time this morning if we’re going to keep on schedule.”
I moan and roll over, accepting her hand to help me sit upright, and run my fingers through my tangled hair.
Emma looks around at the clothes I’ve strewn over my open suitcase on the floor in the corner. “Why aren’t you packed already?”
“Almost. That bag over there.” I wave a hand toward the duffel in the corner and swipe a pair of new jeans I’d laid out for today.
Emma picks up my bag up while I cross to the adjoining bathroom. “There’s a lot of stuff still here. What else do you need packed and what can stay behind?”
