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“Tennessee is like that,” he said. “I grew up in Knoxville, real close to the Great Smoky Mountains. Just thick forests of oak and pine, little springs popping up, creeks between high banks overrun with this verdant, neon-green moss. Everything is damp and fertile there. It’s home to one of the most diverse ecosystems on the planet. Kind of the exact opposite of here.”
“That must have been one hell of an adjustment,” I sympathized. He nodded.
“Yeah, I mean, I’ve played hockey all over the country. I’ve lived in a lot of different places. Very few have been as beautiful as where I’m from. But there’s something about this place, as alien as it is, it has this stark, rugged beauty that I still haven’t gotten used to.”
“You never really do,” I said, studying his profile. “Even if you’re from here.” He was so handsome it should be criminal. “Do you think you’re going to stay for a while?”
He looked over at me, his eyes lingering on my face.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll stay,” he said carefully. We stared at each other. “But I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I have this feeling…like this place has something to teach me.” His eyes dropped to my lips and lingered there. I was afraid to speak, afraid to breathe. The thought of him leaving Casper hadn’t occurred to me before, but now that it had, it hurt like a knife in the ribs.
Silence bloomed between us. I could hear the faint sounds of the city, far below us. And as always, the relentless howling of the wind barreling across the open plain. I reached out and took his hand in mine. For a second, he tensed up, almost like he was going to pull away. But then he relaxed and pulled me across the bench until I was tucked under his arm. He took a deep breath and I thought he might say something else, but then he just pressed his lips to the top of my head, and we sat like that until we couldn’t feel our fingers or toes. Then we started the long jog back to my house.
25.
Jamie
I kept glancing at the door. Every time the house settled, I nearly broke my neck whipping around to see if it was Hope and Rowan coming home. They’d been gone on their run for nearly two hours. At first, I felt what might be called jealousy. But now I was just hoping that they had stopped to fuck up against a tree in somebody’s backyard, because I kept picturing them both being pulled into a van with blacked-out windows by nefarious strangers.
I stared at the football game that was playing on the TV in the living room, but I wasn’t seeing it. I was trying to map the possible routes they could have taken, the streets where they might have last been seen. I was getting ready to call the hospital, because they’d both left their cell phones on the dining room table, but then I heard a clatter that was either them or someone breaking in. I stood up, turning toward the door, and felt a hot rush of relief when Hope came through it followed closely by Rowan. They were laughing, red-faced, but Hope stopped in her tracks when she saw me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, rushing over to me. I shook my head.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I assured her, pulling her into a tight bear hug. “It was just getting kind of late. I was worried you might have gotten turned around.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, squeezing my hands in her icy ones.
“You feel like you’re about fifteen seconds away from frostbite,” I said, frowning down at her.
“I feel that way, too,” she said with a wry smile. Then she winked at me. “I was thinking I should probably take a hot shower. I wouldn’t mind some company.” There was a loud clatter and we looked over to see Rowan stooping to retrieve his phone from the floor. He was blushing, and he cleared his throat as he straightened up.
“Am I invited to that party?” he asked.
“Baby, you are the party,” she said with a smile. Then she pulled off her toboggan and tossed it at him. She turned her back and both of us and walked toward the bathroom, shedding clothes as she went. First, she dropped her jacket, then her sweatshirt, then her sports bra. I watched Rowan run after her with a skip in his step, and my heart swelled. I realized that what I was feeling earlier wasn’t jealousy. Maybe I felt a little left out when my girlfriend went off to spend time with another guy. But most of all, I’d missed them. Both of them. I was starting to get attached to this unusual arrangement. And judging by the way they were smiling when they came through the door, they were feeling a similar type of way about each other. My stomach lurched with anxiety as I thought about the dangerous territory we were stepping into, but my fear did nothing to stop me from following Rowan and Hope down the hallway, following her lead and stripping naked on the way.
26.
Hope
I dragged myself into work bright and early the next day, Sunday. My only day off. I was sore in all the right places from the night I’d spent with Jamie and Rowan, but that did little to brighten my mood. Thacker glanced up from the papers he had spread out on the prep table when I walked in, and I glowered at him.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he said dryly.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I said, rolling my eyes and hanging my bag on the hook. Then I popped the lid off my coffee cup and took a long, gratuitous swig. Jamie made the best brew, and once it got into my system, at least my blood was pumping and my brain was starting to wake up.
“Signs of life?” Thacker snarked, eyeing me. “Good. I figure we start with dry goods because we don’t have a lot on hand, that shouldn’t take much time. It’s the walk-in that’s going to eat up most of the day.” I listened to the droning sound of his voice but my mind was elsewhere, on four sets of hands that knew just how to touch my body. “Hope?”
I blinked and found Thacker staring at me.
“Sorry,” I said with a grimace. “My brain doesn’t work very well on Sunday.”
“Well,” he said darkly. Thank you so much for sacrificing your precious time today. You’ll be compensated more than fairly.”
“Youshouldthank me,” I snapped. “Don’t I already give you enough of myprecioustime?” He just stood there, looking like I’d slapped him. “It’s the most precious thing I have. So please, yippee, let’s go count potatoes and New York strip.”
“Hey, you’re the one whose life goal is to be a head chef,” he scoffed. “You think they’d give a fuck about your free time if you were working at a restaurant in LA or even Denver?” I glared at him for a long beat, grinding my teeth. Then I threw my hands up and turned my back on him, stalking away to the prep area, where we kept large containers of flour, sugar, rice, salt, and other seasonings.
The prick was right. Chef life was tough, long hours, last minute shifts. But also, I’d come back to my hometown to work so that I’d have a shot at work-life balance. The kitchen had always been my favorite place—only thanks to my high metabolism was I not several hundred pounds heavier. But lately, this was the last place I wanted to be.
