Page 16 of No Place Like Home
I took in deep breaths and jogged after her. When I caught up, I laid my arm over her shoulders. “Come on, Summertime. What if I’m injured?”
She stopped in front of the door of the ranch house. “You can’t call me that when you’ve been a dick. That’s only when we’refriends.” She opened the door and walked into the kitchen. She sighed and said, “Are you hurt?”
The sweetness and concern in her voice melted my heart. I lifted my shirt to check. “Nothing too serious.” I had a few scratches and a little blood, but I wasn’t going to lose sleep over it, unless . . . “Do you think I’d be safer if you nurse my wounds?” I shot my brows up.
Summer glanced at my abs and lifted her gaze to mine. I might have been mistaken, but was that a little bit of lust I noticed for a split second?
“I think you’ll live,” she said, then walked toward the bedroom. “I’m getting my bag, then we can go. I’ll drive.”
So much for concern. I pulled my shirt down. “So, we aren’t friends, and you’re not concerned about my injuries, but you still want to hang with me today?” I said as I grabbed water from the fridge and filled a small cooler I found in a cabinet.
She glared her famous Summer-glare at me as soon as she returned to the kitchen, then grabbed some snacks from the cabinet and threw them in her bag. “Yeah, I feel sorry for you. Your only friend works too much at Jerry’s Pub. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be pitifully wandering after your brothers like you did when you were young.” She held the door open. “Get your ass moving. I only have until two. Some of us actually have to work and pay our bills.”
Chapter 8
Rowan
We filled up on sandwiches at the Quick Shop, a small convenience store with the best sandwiches this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. When you’re stuck with limited choices in small-town America, the Quick Shop becomes a delicious option.
I relaxed as Summer drove us through town and toward the river. She pulled onto what used to be Mr. Johnson’s road, formally named Johnson’s Path Lane. It had been a pothole-filled driveway, but was now filled in with crushed gravel, sans potholes. When we got to the crest of the hill, a large two-story brick house stood back along the tree line, a two car garage off to the side. As we passed the house, I could see a fenced-in area with a small barn and what looked like a chicken coop. Chickens pecked around the yard.
“Just so you know,” Summer said, “the creek bed is now owned by Kai, and this is their house.”
“Damn. This is Kora and Kai’s place?”
“Yep. They’re still working on the inside—paint and Kora’s touches—but it’s mostly done.” She pulled past the house and the road wound down toward the creek and a turn-around with ample parking. I grabbed the cooler of drinks from the trunk after we got out, then followed behind Summer.
“Wow, this is amazing,” I said. What used to be just a pebbled bank down to the river now had a sandy area with a brick firepit in the middle of it. Five Adirondack chairs surrounded the firepit, facing the creek. “Kai’s done an incredible job.” I sat in a chair and spread my legs out in front of me.
Summer did the same, placing the bags of food between us. She handed me a sandwich and bag of chips.
“Thanks,” I said, and we ate in silence.
It was peaceful here. The only sounds were birds chirping and the babble of the water as it ran through the river in front of us. Occasionally, I heard the sound of goats and the crow of a rooster. “Kora’s animals add a bit of country charm to the quiet of the river,” I said.
“I guess,” Summer agreed. “The goats are pains in the ass, though. They’re always escaping from their enclosure and tend to get all up in our shit.”
The sounds of crushing leaves issued from behind us. Summer turned. “Speak of the devils.”
The crushing of leaves became hooves on rocks, then soft swishing as they reached the sand. “Baa.”
“Watch your sandwiches. They will eat anything.”
Suddenly there were three goats in front of us, stretching their necks toward our food. Summer reached in her bag and took out some carrots. She threw them and the goats jumped away to get their snacks.
I laughed. Couldn’t help it. I’ve never been a big fan of goats—well, farm animals in general—butI grew up with them and was not surprised that Kora would have three. She always loved coming over and helping Mom with ours. I knew they had names. Kora always named all her animals. When we were young, my father would buy a few head of cattle. He always warned her not to name them, but she never listened and spent much of her high school years refusing to eat beef. “So, who do we have here?” I asked.
“Well, the black one is Baby Goat. And those two are Percy and Jackson. I can never tell which is which, but I don’t think they really care.”
“Kora named her goats after her favorite books like she always said she would.”
“Yep. Of course she did. Her chickens are named also. Edgar is the rooster she brought with her, and two of her hens are Allana and Poe. There are more literature names, but I don’t know them. I think she’s crazy. Just give me the eggs and forget the names.”
I laughed as I finished my sandwich. The goats had finished their snacks and were laying in the sun, looking relaxed. “So, Summertime, will I be meeting that guy you told me about on the phone?”
“Derrick?” She shook her head. “Hell no. That was one date. Honestly, I think I scared him a little.” She grabbed a bottle of water.
“You?” Again I chuckled, and again she gave me her fuck-you look, and I lost it. After I’d caught my breath, I smiled over at her. “I have not laughed this much in a while. Thanks, Summertime, for brightening my day.”
