Page 84 of Take Me Home

“What is your type, Mr. Warren?”

He trained his caramel eyes on me, rubbing his lips together while he thought. “My type is short, sassy little brunettes with a little bit of a bad attitude,” he started.

“Hey, I don’t have a bad attitude!” I objected.

“Says the person with a bad attitude,” he teased. “So anyway, sassy bad attitude brunettes with creative minds who can run entire farms like it’s nothing.” He kissed my temple. “And it’s important that they think they’re good at baseball but are no actual match for me. My fragile ego needs constant stroking.”

“I guess it’s not going to work out between us because I’m good at baseball,” I said.

“Of course you are,” he cooed in a condescending, hushed tone. I smacked his arm. “What about you? What’s Miss Rossetti’s type?”

“Scoundrels. Exclusively scoundrels.”

“But with good arms, right?”

“Obviously. A must.”

The creek’s rushing water filled the pause in our conversation. The cool breeze blowing through the holler between storms made me glad for the quilt, the whiskey, and the comfort of Jake’s arm around my shoulders.

“Hey, Becca told me you wanted her to play Tennessee Whiskey for our slow dance,” I said.

“I did. I even wrote it on a piece of paper so all her drunk ass had to do was hand it to the DJ. She told me she would, then she got all sloppy and told me to trust her,” Jake laughed.

“Well, I appreciate you trying. I do consider that our song.”

“Me, too. I’ll never hear it without thinking of you and all those times I wanted to dance with you.” His eyes were soft looking at me.

“We’ll have to have a makeup private dance party,” I said, giving him a quick smooch. “But hey, now we get two songs, thanks to Becca. Oh! I forgot to tell you. Becca told Madison you were into her, so that’s why she was all over you at the bar.”

“What? Why?” Jake whined.

“To make me jealous and possessive of you.”

“Well, it worked. Becca may have unconventional methods, but they are effective,” Jake conceded. “You said you were working on some projects last night. Wanna tell me what they are?”

“I’ve actually been working on a novel,” I said. “The farm served as good inspiration.”

“Babe, that’s awesome!” Jake said, eyes lighting up. I’d never met anyone as supportive as he was. He was genuinely excited for me. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a bit of a ghost story, mixed with a homecoming for a character that’s been out of Appalachia.”

“Sounds like someone else I know. Minus the ghost part. Unless you’re seeing ghosts out here?” Jake said, then turned more serious. “It’s been nice watching you come more into home the longer you’re here.”

My face grew warm. I was ready to be honest with Jake about how much he meant to me. I looked out into the yard. “I’m going to say something, at the risk of it being too much, too soon.”

Jake took my hand. “Anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Funny, you can’t go anywhere. We’re literally trapped.”

“Okay, even if we weren’t trapped, I wouldn’t run off. Tell me,” he said.

“I’ve been chasing this feeling of home the whole time I’ve been back. I’ve loved being here and being back with my family. I’ve started writing again because I feel more like myself. But the times when I’ve felt most at home have been with you. When you took care of me when I was sick, when we goofed off playing baseball, when I could feel your voice vibrating in your chest singing Country Roads with my family, when you hugged me that night…” I started.

“God, I didn’t want to let you go,” Jake said, brushing a curl behind my ear.

“And every time we kiss, it feels like all the pieces fall into place. Even that first time when I freaked out, that first kiss felt like coming home. Home wasn’t quite home until I had you. I feel like you fully see me for who I am, and I see you. What I don’t know about you, I want to know. I don’t want this to just be a summer thing between us. You’re home to me.”

Jake didn’t say anything at first, just sat looking deep into my eyes. I wasn’t scared for once. His silence didn’t make me start spiraling. We were just sitting with what I’d said. His eyes grew wet as he took a ragged breath and petted my hair.

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