He pushes back from the counter and grabs his empty plate. “You want the rest of the coffee?”
“You take it,” I say. I might treat myself to a stop at Love Buzz on my way out of town. It is my first day, after all.
My phone chimes with a text from the group chat I share with Sofie and Jesse.
SOFIE:
Have a great first day!
JESSE:
Slay the day, butt munch
That one gets a snort, which is surely his goal.
Dad glances over my shoulder to read my screen, and smirks.
I type out aTHANK YOUthen carry my plate to the sink.
The rumble of an approaching engine and the crunch of tires over the snowy gravel in our driveway gets Bruneau bolting from his bed in the living room, barking and wagging his tail. I continue to the sink and gaze out the big window. Sure enough, CJ’s blue Dodge and a battered single horse trailer are parked behind Dad’s rig.
Butterflies lurch up my chest. I need to leave now if I want to treat myself to coffee, but if I hide in the kitchen, I could avoid… I sigh in frustration because I’ve let CJ become a factor in my decision making. Which is exactly what I told myself I’d never do again. Even if it’s just about coffee. Because what if this is how I let things start with Nathan?
I stuff my Tupperware of leftovers and my water bottle into my battered daypack and head for the door, slipping on my new IDFW jacket. It feels weird leaving the house in the pair of sensible pumps Sofie insisted would make a good first impression instead of my hiking boots. I wanted this job because the most effective way to protect and preserve the natural world is to drive policies that can be enforced by law. I’ll still get to do fieldwork, and spend time outside,but there’s more power in a position like this. And field jobs are seasonal with sucky pay and even suckier benefits. Future me is going to be proud of the opportunity I’m taking today.
Right?
After a quick goodbye to Bruneau, I follow Dad out the door. It’s snowing in light, barely-there flakes, with no wind. Bright sunbeams punch through the clouds, illuminating patches of the rolling foothills and forests with a pearly glow.
A truck door slams and just as I follow Dad through the gate, CJ rounds the front of his truck.
His full lips part when he sees me, and for one second, two, my heart slams so hard in my throat my ears throb.
He’s dressed like Dad in the black wool sweater with the IDFW patch on the shoulder, only it looks different on him. Maybe it’s how the black highlights his dark lashes that frame those stormy eyes, and contrasts the coppery highlights in his wavy hair. Or maybe it’s the respect I feel for him in his role as a conservation officer. The same respect I have for Dad.
Maybe that last part’s fucked up. It’s not like I have Daddy issues.
“Morning,” Dad calls out to CJ, his tone all-business.
CJ’s gaze snaps to Dad behind me. “Morning, sir.”
While the two of them work out their plan, I turn left and follow the length of CJ’s truck and trailer toward my car.
CJ’s horse pokes his nose to the window, making me pause. “Hey there,” I say softly, offering my knuckles. His dark, soulful eyes fix on me while his big nostrils flare and his warm breath tickles my skin.
“That’s Jasper,” CJ says, startling me. From the other side of his rig, Dad’s truck door shut.
I stroke up Jasper’s nose with my thumb. “He’s sweet.”
CJ walks closer, his boots crunching over the new snow. “He likes you.”
I glance over my shoulder. The new snow is sticking to his hairlike confetti. A craving to run my fingers through it sends a wave of heat down my spine. “Are you in on this double date idea?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, his smile almost shy. “I’m in on whatever it takes to see you again.”
Of all the things he could have said, I hadn’t planned on that.
Dad’s engine turns over and he starts pulling forward.