Chapter 3 :
Night Catches Us
She couldn’t believe the speed that the sky had darkened.
Grass and soft Earth squished under her feet as she struggled to keep up him. Wild warnings kept repeatedly going off in her head to turn back.
She wanted to yell at him to slow down, but she was afraid to. Not to mention afraid of where he was leading her.
Ominous heavy clouds were pouring buckets of water on them. She could barely make out his figure in front of her, and clenched her teeth against yelling at him. Would he even hear her, through the loud his of rain?
Ciara pushed herself forward, until they finally came to a clearing. Her blurred vision made out a small aging blue cottage home, outlined in wild rose bushes.
The stranger made a beeline for the porch after pausing, and she wondered if he was as blind as she had been?
They stumbled on the porch, finally reaching shelter.
“God damn, that was a run huh?” He breathed, leaning next to the the front door.
Trying to catch her breath, Ciara set down her purse and shoes.
She pulled her hair out of the clip and began trying to squeeze the rainwater off. “I don’t even understand what this is! I thought it only rained like this in - the amazon or something.”
“Yeah, well, welcome to the country, honey.” He laughed shortly as he wiped water from his face with his hands. The dingy t shirt he wore was plastered against his shoulders and abdomen, revealing the light shadows of the toned frame beneath.
Droplets of cool water splashed against the tops of her bare feet, snatching her attention from him to herself.
She squeezed at the hem of her soaking dress. As he opened the front door then disappeared inside.
Ciara frowned, briefly forgetting the context of the situation, a sarcastic remark regarding chivalry passed through her mind.
But then she was thankful to have a moment to herself, to just embrace the trepidation and futility she felt against nature, and this peculiar stranger she was about to enter closed quarters with.
All she wanted was to be home, but not this home, her home, with people she actually knew.
She rummaged though her purse and pulled out her phone, making one last ditch effort to see if there was a signal.
Of course there was none.
Letting out a deep breath, she entered the shadowed doorway of the house, with her mace discreetly tucked in her right hand.
The stranger turned on a lamp, flooding the living room where they stood with much needed light. She let her gaze flutter over her surroundings as the faint sent of mothballs wafted up her nose. The room itself, with it’s brown plaid couch and love seat, heavy oak tables and yellowing flower print wall paper appeared not to have been touched since 1972.
Several magazines and books were strewn over the couch and coffee table, which he saw her notice, and began to quickly move into a neat pile.
In the light of the lamp she stared at his back, the way the wet fabric suctioned against his shoulders as moved.
He stood quickly, scratching the back of his head. “Would you like to use the bathroom?”
She briefly wondered if he was as uncomfortable as she was? Or perhaps he just didn’t want her there at all?
Ciara swallowed. “No. No, I’m fine.”
He paused before saying, “Alright, I’m going to take a quick shower then.”
Moving to her right, he opened a door that revealed a pale blue bathroom with an old French bathtub by the far wall. She flinched at his movements, trying to cover it with a sidestep, but was pretty sure he noticed.
A moment later he returned with two pale pink towels, and set them on the couch instead of offering them to her. “In case you want to dry off.” He quickly spoke before heading back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Ciara had barely dried her face when she heard him turn on the water. But quickly dropped the towel to do a quick tour of the tiny home.
It appeared the entire cottage was a seventies time capsule. There was a tiny modest kitchen and only one bedroom, all the walls had the same, yellowing wallpaper.
Only when discovering the basement off the kitchen, was clean and empty except for a few dusty antique chairs did the butterflies in her stomach ease a bit. But she would make sure not to keep her mase too far from her hand.
Moving quickly she tried to dry off before he got out of the shower. As she reached for the second towel to dry off her hair, she noticed a sport jersey folded underneath it.
Ciara picked up the large worn top, and read the tag inside. “Boston Bruins?”
Grimacing she wasn’t quite sure if he’d intentionally given it to her, but it was a far better option than her saturated, and probably ruined out.
She snatched the dress over her head, her shoulders shivering as she swiped at the dampness on her skin.
And then she heard his shower water stop.
Only in white panties, she stared at the door, listening for sounds of his movements before swallowing.
Once the long dry shirt was on, it only increased the contrast of the damp underwear against her skin.
Cursing, clammy hands removed the underwear, and quickly did a length check to make sure the baggy shirt covered most of her thighs.
When the bathroom door opened, she was sitting on the couch, with the shirt pulled tightly over her knees.
Had he heard her snooping around? Should she try to read a magazine or something?
No. Too obvious.
“You like meatloaf?
He was in her peripheral. When she glanced up him, she paused for a long moment without speaking. “... meat loaf?”
He stared down at her with bright hazel eyes covered in thick dark lashes. “Yeah, we got two things in the house, meat loaf and turkey breast, but I ran out of bread yesterday so...”
“Meat loaf sounds great.” She flashed her teeth at him. He nodded once, before going through the open doorway of the kitchen.
After toiling around in the kitchen for fifteen minutes he returned, and sat on the couch directly across from her.
“No t.v. either huh?” She asked.
He shook his head. “No.”
The man that sat across from her was far from the filthy borderline neanderthal she’d first encountered. He cleaned up pretty well, his hair was a little lighter than she initially thought. His face was rugged looking, making her think he was in his mid thirties or so. He had a strong, serious jawline, if he chose not to smile he could appear pretty intimidating. His eye color was so odd though, almost iridescent. She couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone with them before.
The dark blue henley shirt he wore that fit him like a glove, three button were undone at his color bone. He was still wearing jeans, they were far cleaner than his previous pair but more faded --
Was she staring?
Shit.
“Ok, so you don’t have a car, or a phone or a t.v. Do you have a name at least?”
He leaned back into the couch. “I do.”
She raised a brow in the following silence.
“Jack.” His gaze skirted away from her, there was a barely visible twitch in his lip that betrayed his amusement.
“Jack.” She repeated. “Ok.”
He cleared his throat. “The food will be ready in a lil’ bit.”
Jack Turner shifted in his seat, the profile of his odd house guest stayed in his peripheral. He wasn’t used to
having visitors, and surely not a woman. Did she expect them to have small talk?
Damn.
The rain outside seemed to be tapering off, he glanced at the small open window.
“How did you get my shirt?” He asked.
Ciara’s eyes widened slightly. “It was underneath the towels you gave me.” She visibly pressed her knees together. “Do you mind?”
“No. I mean, what else are you going to put on? I just had been lookin’ for it.”
She was trying to hide the fact that she was skittish being alone with him.
He was shocked she’d opted to follow him at all, he’d said it out of some kind of half assed curtesy, but didn’t expect her to act on it.
But she had - and now here she was - wearing his shirt.
She tucked the damp locks of dark hair back behind her ear, and for a while , no conversation interrupted the lingering raindrops filtering down from the sky outside.
Her mouth folded, almost in a pout, he imagined all types of thoughts and questions swirling around her head.
And knew his quiet evening was definitely going to be shot to hell.
“You know I thought -” She laughed shortly. “You know I thought you lived in the garage.”
“What?”
Ciara grimaced. “I’m sorry. When you said you sort of lived out here. I thought you meant the garage.”
She shook her head looking away from him, whispering an embarrassed apology.
“So ... you live out here - all alone?” She asked.There was a deep rose colored stain to her lips. Rainwater had washed most of it away. Her mouth was very full, the natural shape was actually pouty.
“Where were you headed when your car broke down?”
Thick, arched eyebrows furrowed over her dark brown eyes. “I asked you fir- Oh my God I think I left the windows down!”
This time he laughed. “It’s just a car. Imma check on dinner.”
He returned to the couch, plopping down with a thump. “Do I really live out here alone? When I’m here, yes.”
“But don’t you get lonely or - bored?”
He shrugged. “I read, I work on the truck ...”
“That’s working out real well.”
Jack scoffed at her sarcasm. “It’s called a hobby.”
“Well, you know it’s all fine and dandy if you want to be out here alone. But - if I were you-” She paused.
But his interest was piqued. “If you were me...” He coaxed.
Guilt briefly flashed in her eyes. “I’d ... hire a decorator.” She finished quickly.
Maybe ... he was sort of amused by her.
He wasn’t very amused though when she’d materialized out of no where in front of his garage, looking scared and frazzled - not to mention wearing shoes that should have been licensed weapons.
And he couldn’t blame her for her wariness, if she was 5‘7 he’d be surprised.
“Is that what you do for a living?” He asked.
“What, decorating? No. I like to pick out clothes, not furniture.”
His only reaction was a raised brow as he returned to the kitchen for a second time.
When he set the piping hot slab of meatloaf,mashed potatoes, and bottled water on the coffee table in front of her she seemed surprised. He offered her a fork as he got his own plate from the kitchen and returned to sit across from her.
“You think I’m ridiculous right?” She asked.
Ciara leaned forward, after glancing at him shrewdly, and the motion caused the shirt to lift over her knees.
She discreetly yanked it back down.
“Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted some ketchup?”
“Ketchup?” She questioned.
“Yeah, for the meatloaf. Some folks like it with ketchup.”
“Oh. No, I’m okay. Thanks.” She placed the paper towel over her legs, and reached forward, using the fork and knife she cut away at the meat, and he noticed for the first time a thin silver diamond bracelet on her wrist.
Her nails were long and natural, the white tips contrasting with her deep brown skin. She had an elegant way about her, when she wasn’t complaining, whether or not it was intentional was anybodies guess.
“I was going to Annapolis.” His gaze darted up from her hands. “I didn’t answer you’re question.” She placed a hefty piece of meat in her mouth. her chewing slowed, after a moment.
“How is it?” He asked
“It’s a little dry.” Ciara answered truthfully.
“That’s why you need the ketchup.” He slid the bottle over to her and she accepted it.
“Annapolis huh?”
Nodding, she squeezed the bottle over her meat.
They ate in silence for a while, which surprised him.
Not long after night came, and a settled in heat made him turn on the fan.
“This really wasn’t half bad. Plus I was really hungry.” She wiped her mouth with a paper towel.
He finished his meal long before her.
“Have you never had meatloaf before?”
“I’m sure I have - it’s just been a while.” The look on her face implied her true answer was probably no.
His answering expression must have implied as much, because she looked down at her empty plate, sheepish.
“Is the ride that’s coming in the morning. Is he your friend?”
Jack stretched his legs out in front of him. “I guess.”
Ciara smiled. “So you have a name and a friend. That’s nice.” She paused. “It sounds less unibomb-ery.”
Jack snorted, resting his head on the back of the chair as he stared up at the ceiling.
She apologized, adding, “That’s probably not even a word.”
“You talk a lot, high heels.”
“I usually do. But I’m just trying to make light of an, odd situation.” She paused, and he could hear her movements causing the chair beneath her to squeak. “And it’s just so quiet out here. I don’t know how you can stand it.”
“It’s relaxing.”
“Does that mean you don’t have a phone or t.v. purposely?”
“Bingo.”
She didn’t speak, and since he wasn’t looking at her he imagined her sitting across from him, gnawing discreetly on her bottom lip.
“And?” He asked.
“And what?”
“What else did you want to ask me?”
“Nothing.” She admitted. “You said I talk too much. I wanted to leave you in - silent solitude.”
Jack licked his lips to keep from chuckling. “My solitude ended the minute you decided to follow me home. What did you do with your clothes?”
Ciara was caught off guard by the sudden change in conversation. Night had completely set on them, the open window to her left showed a darkness that unnerved her. Making her think of still being outside his garage alone, or inside her non running BMW, surrounded by that same voided darkness.
She would definitely rather be home, but she was grateful that she wasn’t alone.
But the problem was she knew she couldn’t completely trust him.
He was staring at her, reminding her that he’d spoken.
“They’re by my bag.” She’d discarded them next to her muddy shoes after finding the hideous but dry sport jersey.
“You should hang them outside. They’ll dry by mornin’.”
“What time is you’re friend suppose to pick you up?”
“Seven thirty a. m.”
“I don’t even know what that is usually. I uh- don’t think I want to go outside.”
He stood up, bringing his waistline to abrupt eye level. Ciara yanked her eyes up to his face.
“It’s just night time. I’ll do it.”
As he made his way around the couch, she remembered something and whirled around in her seat to face him. “You don’t have to do that. I can hang it up in here.”
“It’ll dry better outside. You think bears are gonna run off with it?” He started to lean down.
“Actually - my underwear are in there.” She blurted.
The admission stopped him in mid motion. “Oh.” He answered before standing up.
Ciara sat back down on the couch, pulling harshly on the shirt, to cover her thighs. She clamped her mouth shut. The fact that he now knew she wasn’t wearing underwear made her feel completely nude suddenly.
With gnashed teeth she rounded the couch to join him. Quick movements snatched the underwear from the fabric which had made a damp pool beneath it against the hardwood floor.
She kept them balled in her hands before shoving them into her nearby purse.
“Here.” She handed him the dress, ignoring the briefly baffled look on his face. “You can hang it up if you want to.”
Jack accepted it, glancing down at it in his hands before looking back at her. “Yes ma’am.”
Ciara felt like she was on the receiving end of an inside joke as he went outside on the porch before returning, and closing the door behind him.
“I guess if I wasn’t here you’d be reading.” She ignored his profile, glancing down at his books as he sat back down across from her.
Jack shrugged. “Do you read? When you’re not picking out clothes instead of furniture?”
Ciara laughed at his tone. “When I said that did it sound that bad?”
“Well, you have an east coast accent so it was worse.”
She shook her head, slowly. “Oh, I see now. You have jokes. So where are you from? I know it’s no where around here.”
He wasn’t looking at her, and for a moment she wondered if she’d overstepped her bounds.
“South Carolina mostly, but - I was born in Louisiana, in a really small town you probably ain’t heard of.”
Ciara stared at his features, his mouth opened like he’d planned to say more, before he clamped it shut.
“How long have you been up here?” She asked.
Jack glanced at her. “No.”
“No?” She questioned, puzzled.
He scratched the back of his head, before standing. “If we’re doing twenty thousand questions, I’m gonna need a beer. And it’s the last one so you’re outta luck.”
“Oh darn.” She snapped her fingers at the missed opportunity.
When he returned he brought her a water, which she gratefully accepted. Both of them made sure their fingers didn’t touch during the exchange.
Jack sat back in his place. “Let me guess, you drink champagne and not beer?”
Ciara pouted slightly at his remark. She wasn’t one used to people making fun of her, but he seemed light hearted about it. And after a day like this, she could at least end it with a laugh.
“Is that one of your questions?” She inquired.
“No, I’m working on that one.” He took a long swig of beer.
“Well can I ask you another in the mean time?” She inquired.
He pulled the bottle from his lips and swallowed. “No.”
Ciara tucked her legs underneath her. “Would you mind pulling the curtain closed behind you? It’s just so weird looking out into the dark.”
Jack glanced back at the window, before wordlessly obliging. And she offered a soft ‘thanks’.
“Why were you heading to Annapolis?” To her surprise when he returned to the couch he lay down on his back, his legs were too long to fit comfortably, so he crossed them on top of the arm rest.”
“Wow, no preamble huh?”
“Naah.”
“I was supposed to be doing a favor for a friend.” He was holding his arms over his chest, and she could see the short blond hairs contrasting with his golden tanned skin. “An uh, modeling shoot.”
Jack then turned his head to her. “Model? Yeah, that’s it.”
“That’s what?” She inquired, waiting for his retort.
“Do you do it professionally?”
“Uh. Well I usually lie and say yes. But tonight with you I guess I’ll be honest. It’s just a hobby.”
“And why would you usually lie?”
“No. You got two questions and you only answered one before mine.”
His teeth flashed. “Right.”
“What did you mean by, 'yeah, that’s it’?”
Jack‘s brow furrowed.“I thought you were going to ask me a question about me--” He paused, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s your clothes, your shoes, your demeanor. It fits. It was either that - or a spoiled rich girl.”
Night Catches Us
She couldn’t believe the speed that the sky had darkened.
Grass and soft Earth squished under her feet as she struggled to keep up him. Wild warnings kept repeatedly going off in her head to turn back.
She wanted to yell at him to slow down, but she was afraid to. Not to mention afraid of where he was leading her.
Ominous heavy clouds were pouring buckets of water on them. She could barely make out his figure in front of her, and clenched her teeth against yelling at him. Would he even hear her, through the loud his of rain?
Ciara pushed herself forward, until they finally came to a clearing. Her blurred vision made out a small aging blue cottage home, outlined in wild rose bushes.
The stranger made a beeline for the porch after pausing, and she wondered if he was as blind as she had been?
They stumbled on the porch, finally reaching shelter.
“God damn, that was a run huh?” He breathed, leaning next to the the front door.
Trying to catch her breath, Ciara set down her purse and shoes.
She pulled her hair out of the clip and began trying to squeeze the rainwater off. “I don’t even understand what this is! I thought it only rained like this in - the amazon or something.”
“Yeah, well, welcome to the country, honey.” He laughed shortly as he wiped water from his face with his hands. The dingy t shirt he wore was plastered against his shoulders and abdomen, revealing the light shadows of the toned frame beneath.
Droplets of cool water splashed against the tops of her bare feet, snatching her attention from him to herself.
She squeezed at the hem of her soaking dress. As he opened the front door then disappeared inside.
Ciara frowned, briefly forgetting the context of the situation, a sarcastic remark regarding chivalry passed through her mind.
But then she was thankful to have a moment to herself, to just embrace the trepidation and futility she felt against nature, and this peculiar stranger she was about to enter closed quarters with.
All she wanted was to be home, but not this home, her home, with people she actually knew.
She rummaged though her purse and pulled out her phone, making one last ditch effort to see if there was a signal.
Of course there was none.
Letting out a deep breath, she entered the shadowed doorway of the house, with her mace discreetly tucked in her right hand.
The stranger turned on a lamp, flooding the living room where they stood with much needed light. She let her gaze flutter over her surroundings as the faint sent of mothballs wafted up her nose. The room itself, with it’s brown plaid couch and love seat, heavy oak tables and yellowing flower print wall paper appeared not to have been touched since 1972.
Several magazines and books were strewn over the couch and coffee table, which he saw her notice, and began to quickly move into a neat pile.
In the light of the lamp she stared at his back, the way the wet fabric suctioned against his shoulders as moved.
He stood quickly, scratching the back of his head. “Would you like to use the bathroom?”
She briefly wondered if he was as uncomfortable as she was? Or perhaps he just didn’t want her there at all?
Ciara swallowed. “No. No, I’m fine.”
He paused before saying, “Alright, I’m going to take a quick shower then.”
Moving to her right, he opened a door that revealed a pale blue bathroom with an old French bathtub by the far wall. She flinched at his movements, trying to cover it with a sidestep, but was pretty sure he noticed.
A moment later he returned with two pale pink towels, and set them on the couch instead of offering them to her. “In case you want to dry off.” He quickly spoke before heading back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Ciara had barely dried her face when she heard him turn on the water. But quickly dropped the towel to do a quick tour of the tiny home.
It appeared the entire cottage was a seventies time capsule. There was a tiny modest kitchen and only one bedroom, all the walls had the same, yellowing wallpaper.
Only when discovering the basement off the kitchen, was clean and empty except for a few dusty antique chairs did the butterflies in her stomach ease a bit. But she would make sure not to keep her mase too far from her hand.
Moving quickly she tried to dry off before he got out of the shower. As she reached for the second towel to dry off her hair, she noticed a sport jersey folded underneath it.
Ciara picked up the large worn top, and read the tag inside. “Boston Bruins?”
Grimacing she wasn’t quite sure if he’d intentionally given it to her, but it was a far better option than her saturated, and probably ruined out.
She snatched the dress over her head, her shoulders shivering as she swiped at the dampness on her skin.
And then she heard his shower water stop.
Only in white panties, she stared at the door, listening for sounds of his movements before swallowing.
Once the long dry shirt was on, it only increased the contrast of the damp underwear against her skin.
Cursing, clammy hands removed the underwear, and quickly did a length check to make sure the baggy shirt covered most of her thighs.
When the bathroom door opened, she was sitting on the couch, with the shirt pulled tightly over her knees.
Had he heard her snooping around? Should she try to read a magazine or something?
No. Too obvious.
“You like meatloaf?
He was in her peripheral. When she glanced up him, she paused for a long moment without speaking. “... meat loaf?”
He stared down at her with bright hazel eyes covered in thick dark lashes. “Yeah, we got two things in the house, meat loaf and turkey breast, but I ran out of bread yesterday so...”
“Meat loaf sounds great.” She flashed her teeth at him. He nodded once, before going through the open doorway of the kitchen.
After toiling around in the kitchen for fifteen minutes he returned, and sat on the couch directly across from her.
“No t.v. either huh?” She asked.
He shook his head. “No.”
The man that sat across from her was far from the filthy borderline neanderthal she’d first encountered. He cleaned up pretty well, his hair was a little lighter than she initially thought. His face was rugged looking, making her think he was in his mid thirties or so. He had a strong, serious jawline, if he chose not to smile he could appear pretty intimidating. His eye color was so odd though, almost iridescent. She couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone with them before.
The dark blue henley shirt he wore that fit him like a glove, three button were undone at his color bone. He was still wearing jeans, they were far cleaner than his previous pair but more faded --
Was she staring?
Shit.
“Ok, so you don’t have a car, or a phone or a t.v. Do you have a name at least?”
He leaned back into the couch. “I do.”
She raised a brow in the following silence.
“Jack.” His gaze skirted away from her, there was a barely visible twitch in his lip that betrayed his amusement.
“Jack.” She repeated. “Ok.”
He cleared his throat. “The food will be ready in a lil’ bit.”
Jack Turner shifted in his seat, the profile of his odd house guest stayed in his peripheral. He wasn’t used to
having visitors, and surely not a woman. Did she expect them to have small talk?
Damn.
The rain outside seemed to be tapering off, he glanced at the small open window.
“How did you get my shirt?” He asked.
Ciara’s eyes widened slightly. “It was underneath the towels you gave me.” She visibly pressed her knees together. “Do you mind?”
“No. I mean, what else are you going to put on? I just had been lookin’ for it.”
She was trying to hide the fact that she was skittish being alone with him.
He was shocked she’d opted to follow him at all, he’d said it out of some kind of half assed curtesy, but didn’t expect her to act on it.
But she had - and now here she was - wearing his shirt.
She tucked the damp locks of dark hair back behind her ear, and for a while , no conversation interrupted the lingering raindrops filtering down from the sky outside.
Her mouth folded, almost in a pout, he imagined all types of thoughts and questions swirling around her head.
And knew his quiet evening was definitely going to be shot to hell.
“You know I thought -” She laughed shortly. “You know I thought you lived in the garage.”
“What?”
Ciara grimaced. “I’m sorry. When you said you sort of lived out here. I thought you meant the garage.”
She shook her head looking away from him, whispering an embarrassed apology.
“So ... you live out here - all alone?” She asked.There was a deep rose colored stain to her lips. Rainwater had washed most of it away. Her mouth was very full, the natural shape was actually pouty.
“Where were you headed when your car broke down?”
Thick, arched eyebrows furrowed over her dark brown eyes. “I asked you fir- Oh my God I think I left the windows down!”
This time he laughed. “It’s just a car. Imma check on dinner.”
He returned to the couch, plopping down with a thump. “Do I really live out here alone? When I’m here, yes.”
“But don’t you get lonely or - bored?”
He shrugged. “I read, I work on the truck ...”
“That’s working out real well.”
Jack scoffed at her sarcasm. “It’s called a hobby.”
“Well, you know it’s all fine and dandy if you want to be out here alone. But - if I were you-” She paused.
But his interest was piqued. “If you were me...” He coaxed.
Guilt briefly flashed in her eyes. “I’d ... hire a decorator.” She finished quickly.
Maybe ... he was sort of amused by her.
He wasn’t very amused though when she’d materialized out of no where in front of his garage, looking scared and frazzled - not to mention wearing shoes that should have been licensed weapons.
And he couldn’t blame her for her wariness, if she was 5‘7 he’d be surprised.
“Is that what you do for a living?” He asked.
“What, decorating? No. I like to pick out clothes, not furniture.”
His only reaction was a raised brow as he returned to the kitchen for a second time.
When he set the piping hot slab of meatloaf,mashed potatoes, and bottled water on the coffee table in front of her she seemed surprised. He offered her a fork as he got his own plate from the kitchen and returned to sit across from her.
“You think I’m ridiculous right?” She asked.
Ciara leaned forward, after glancing at him shrewdly, and the motion caused the shirt to lift over her knees.
She discreetly yanked it back down.
“Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted some ketchup?”
“Ketchup?” She questioned.
“Yeah, for the meatloaf. Some folks like it with ketchup.”
“Oh. No, I’m okay. Thanks.” She placed the paper towel over her legs, and reached forward, using the fork and knife she cut away at the meat, and he noticed for the first time a thin silver diamond bracelet on her wrist.
Her nails were long and natural, the white tips contrasting with her deep brown skin. She had an elegant way about her, when she wasn’t complaining, whether or not it was intentional was anybodies guess.
“I was going to Annapolis.” His gaze darted up from her hands. “I didn’t answer you’re question.” She placed a hefty piece of meat in her mouth. her chewing slowed, after a moment.
“How is it?” He asked
“It’s a little dry.” Ciara answered truthfully.
“That’s why you need the ketchup.” He slid the bottle over to her and she accepted it.
“Annapolis huh?”
Nodding, she squeezed the bottle over her meat.
They ate in silence for a while, which surprised him.
Not long after night came, and a settled in heat made him turn on the fan.
“This really wasn’t half bad. Plus I was really hungry.” She wiped her mouth with a paper towel.
He finished his meal long before her.
“Have you never had meatloaf before?”
“I’m sure I have - it’s just been a while.” The look on her face implied her true answer was probably no.
His answering expression must have implied as much, because she looked down at her empty plate, sheepish.
“Is the ride that’s coming in the morning. Is he your friend?”
Jack stretched his legs out in front of him. “I guess.”
Ciara smiled. “So you have a name and a friend. That’s nice.” She paused. “It sounds less unibomb-ery.”
Jack snorted, resting his head on the back of the chair as he stared up at the ceiling.
She apologized, adding, “That’s probably not even a word.”
“You talk a lot, high heels.”
“I usually do. But I’m just trying to make light of an, odd situation.” She paused, and he could hear her movements causing the chair beneath her to squeak. “And it’s just so quiet out here. I don’t know how you can stand it.”
“It’s relaxing.”
“Does that mean you don’t have a phone or t.v. purposely?”
“Bingo.”
She didn’t speak, and since he wasn’t looking at her he imagined her sitting across from him, gnawing discreetly on her bottom lip.
“And?” He asked.
“And what?”
“What else did you want to ask me?”
“Nothing.” She admitted. “You said I talk too much. I wanted to leave you in - silent solitude.”
Jack licked his lips to keep from chuckling. “My solitude ended the minute you decided to follow me home. What did you do with your clothes?”
Ciara was caught off guard by the sudden change in conversation. Night had completely set on them, the open window to her left showed a darkness that unnerved her. Making her think of still being outside his garage alone, or inside her non running BMW, surrounded by that same voided darkness.
She would definitely rather be home, but she was grateful that she wasn’t alone.
But the problem was she knew she couldn’t completely trust him.
He was staring at her, reminding her that he’d spoken.
“They’re by my bag.” She’d discarded them next to her muddy shoes after finding the hideous but dry sport jersey.
“You should hang them outside. They’ll dry by mornin’.”
“What time is you’re friend suppose to pick you up?”
“Seven thirty a. m.”
“I don’t even know what that is usually. I uh- don’t think I want to go outside.”
He stood up, bringing his waistline to abrupt eye level. Ciara yanked her eyes up to his face.
“It’s just night time. I’ll do it.”
As he made his way around the couch, she remembered something and whirled around in her seat to face him. “You don’t have to do that. I can hang it up in here.”
“It’ll dry better outside. You think bears are gonna run off with it?” He started to lean down.
“Actually - my underwear are in there.” She blurted.
The admission stopped him in mid motion. “Oh.” He answered before standing up.
Ciara sat back down on the couch, pulling harshly on the shirt, to cover her thighs. She clamped her mouth shut. The fact that he now knew she wasn’t wearing underwear made her feel completely nude suddenly.
With gnashed teeth she rounded the couch to join him. Quick movements snatched the underwear from the fabric which had made a damp pool beneath it against the hardwood floor.
She kept them balled in her hands before shoving them into her nearby purse.
“Here.” She handed him the dress, ignoring the briefly baffled look on his face. “You can hang it up if you want to.”
Jack accepted it, glancing down at it in his hands before looking back at her. “Yes ma’am.”
Ciara felt like she was on the receiving end of an inside joke as he went outside on the porch before returning, and closing the door behind him.
“I guess if I wasn’t here you’d be reading.” She ignored his profile, glancing down at his books as he sat back down across from her.
Jack shrugged. “Do you read? When you’re not picking out clothes instead of furniture?”
Ciara laughed at his tone. “When I said that did it sound that bad?”
“Well, you have an east coast accent so it was worse.”
She shook her head, slowly. “Oh, I see now. You have jokes. So where are you from? I know it’s no where around here.”
He wasn’t looking at her, and for a moment she wondered if she’d overstepped her bounds.
“South Carolina mostly, but - I was born in Louisiana, in a really small town you probably ain’t heard of.”
Ciara stared at his features, his mouth opened like he’d planned to say more, before he clamped it shut.
“How long have you been up here?” She asked.
Jack glanced at her. “No.”
“No?” She questioned, puzzled.
He scratched the back of his head, before standing. “If we’re doing twenty thousand questions, I’m gonna need a beer. And it’s the last one so you’re outta luck.”
“Oh darn.” She snapped her fingers at the missed opportunity.
When he returned he brought her a water, which she gratefully accepted. Both of them made sure their fingers didn’t touch during the exchange.
Jack sat back in his place. “Let me guess, you drink champagne and not beer?”
Ciara pouted slightly at his remark. She wasn’t one used to people making fun of her, but he seemed light hearted about it. And after a day like this, she could at least end it with a laugh.
“Is that one of your questions?” She inquired.
“No, I’m working on that one.” He took a long swig of beer.
“Well can I ask you another in the mean time?” She inquired.
He pulled the bottle from his lips and swallowed. “No.”
Ciara tucked her legs underneath her. “Would you mind pulling the curtain closed behind you? It’s just so weird looking out into the dark.”
Jack glanced back at the window, before wordlessly obliging. And she offered a soft ‘thanks’.
“Why were you heading to Annapolis?” To her surprise when he returned to the couch he lay down on his back, his legs were too long to fit comfortably, so he crossed them on top of the arm rest.”
“Wow, no preamble huh?”
“Naah.”
“I was supposed to be doing a favor for a friend.” He was holding his arms over his chest, and she could see the short blond hairs contrasting with his golden tanned skin. “An uh, modeling shoot.”
Jack then turned his head to her. “Model? Yeah, that’s it.”
“That’s what?” She inquired, waiting for his retort.
“Do you do it professionally?”
“Uh. Well I usually lie and say yes. But tonight with you I guess I’ll be honest. It’s just a hobby.”
“And why would you usually lie?”
“No. You got two questions and you only answered one before mine.”
His teeth flashed. “Right.”
“What did you mean by, 'yeah, that’s it’?”
Jack‘s brow furrowed.“I thought you were going to ask me a question about me--” He paused, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s your clothes, your shoes, your demeanor. It fits. It was either that - or a spoiled rich girl.”
2 comments:
Loving it!!!!
Ljay
Fantastic job! Can't wait for the next chapter :)
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