I tip my head back and close my eyes as Noah sings and the breeze caresses my bare arms.
But then the truck comes to a sudden stop, I lurch forward, and something slams into my chest. I wince at the pain, my eyes popping open as a car pulls out right in front of us.
“Aw, come on!” Noah barks, the truck idling in the middle of the road.
The car backs out of a driveway and pulls forward, taking off down the road as if we didn’t almost crash into them.
I draw in a deep breath, suddenly aware of the ache in my chest again.
I look down and see Kaleb’s arm is shot out in front of me, keeping me from diving head first through the wind-shield. There was no seatbelt for me in the middle.
I look over at him as he scowls at the car disappearing down the road.
Without sparing me a glance, he drops his arm and goes back to looking at his phone.
Hm.
Noah takes off again, but I steal glances at Kaleb every few seconds. So he does know I exist.
We head through town, turning into Ferg’s Freeze on the left and pulling into the drive-through.
A woman’s voice comes over the speaker, and I check out the menu quickly.
“Cheeseburger,” I tell him as he hangs out the window.
“Okay, seven cheeseburgers,” he calls out.
Seven?
Noah turns back to me. “You want bacon on yours?”
I nod.
“All with bacon,” he tells the cashier. “Three—no, four—large fries.”
“I don’t need fries,” I reply.
“I’ll eat yours,” he tells me. “And four milkshakes—two vanilla, one strawberry, and…”
He looks at me over his shoulder.
“Strawberry, too,” I answer.
“Make that two strawberry and also add a Coke.”
She tells him his total, and I sit back in the seat as we pull up behind another car, waiting our turn.
Glancing over at Kaleb, I see he’s still scrolling, and I look down to see what has so much of his attention.
I smile.
“I’ve been there,” I tell him, gesturing to the images on his screen. “It’s this whole hotel in Oregon that’s a treehouse. I love the lights in the trees—it’s pretty. Kind of magical.”
He looks over at me, staring silently.
He’s probably mad that I got nosy. I’ve made his breakfast every morning this week—which he scarfs down—but for some reason, I’m barely on his radar unless he wants to…eat.
“Have you ever been outside of Colorado?” I broach.
But of course, he doesn’t answer.
We pull forward, and I hear a chirpy voice.
“Hi, Kaleb,” someone says.
A pretty girl with a shoulder-length shaggy cut and bangs peers at us through the window, her blue-and-white-striped uniform shirt adorned with a name tag that says Marnie.
Kaleb doesn’t acknowledge her as Noah pays her. She opens the windows again to give him his change.
“You know the offer still stands,” she says, looking at Kaleb as she hands Noah the bags of food. “Sure you don’t want to tuck me away up on the peak with the rest of the necessities you need for winter? I could keep you warm.”
I can tell she’s only teasing, trying to play.
But Noah laughs, taking the milkshakes and passing them to me, which I hold on my lap. “Yeah, only if he puts you back into the pantry the twenty-three hours of the day he’s not using you.”
“Noah!” I burst out, my eyes wide.
But the chick is way ahead of me. She flings her hand into the Coke sitting at the window, its contents spilling all over Noah before the windows swing closed again, leaving him in the dust.
Splashes land on me, soaking into the seat, and I gasp at the ice and cold as Noah growls.
“Seriously!” he whines, flinging soda off his hands. “What the hell?”
I laugh, barely noticing Kaleb lifting me up and moving me over, out of the mess.
“You deserved that,” I tell Noah, but I’m still laughing.
He groans, pulling napkins out of the bag to dry himself. “I was just joking.”
“Well, I like her,” I tease.
A horn honks behind us, and Noah scowls as he pulls off, probably pissed he didn’t get that Coke now.
Kaleb wipes my arm down with a napkin, and I stop laughing, realizing I’m sitting in his lap. I look down on the red seat, seeing a dark pool of Coke where I was sitting.
He throws the wet napkin down and picks up another, pressing it to my thigh to soak up the mess on my jeans. My breath catches, and I put my hand on his to stop him.
“I’m…”
He looks up at me, and the last time he was this close was when he had me on the hood of the car.
“I’m…I’m okay,” I assure him, sopping up my jeans.
He removes his hand, letting me do it as he circles my waist like a seatbelt and goes back to playing on his phone, holding it with both hands around me.
“I can sit back down.”
I try to move off him, but he stops me, not taking his eyes off his phone as he pats the seat to remind me it’s wet.
Continuing to scroll, he keeps his arms firmly in place, and my pulse races.
And as we drive home, all I’m aware of is him. Noah’s not in the car. There’s no music. Despite the breeze, the truck is hot inside.
At some point I look over at him, and he raises his eyes, holding mine again.
And I know then that I was wrong. I’m on his radar.
“No!” I bellow, twisting my legs away before he can get a proper hold.
But I’m not fast enough. Jake grabs my ankles as I grapple for the rip in the mat to hang onto and try to kick free of him.
He yanks me down, and I scream in the garage, breaking out in a laugh I can’t hold back.
It’s been almost two days since our episode in the kitchen. We’ve worked, cooked, jarred some fruit, stocked the pantry with supplies for winter, and bottled up some water, since I’m told the pipes often freeze.
They’ve forced me to watch the entire first season of their karate show, and I made some new popsicle treats I found on Pinterest for the horses and chickens that Noah made fun of me for, but the animals loved. I watched them for a solid hour picking at the frozen corn. It was so cute.
“Come on,” Jake barks, gripping me hard. “You should’ve caught onto this by now.”
“It’s been two days! Gimme a break.”
I stop trying to kick and shoot up, swinging both of my fists right for his face. He rears back, but I clip his nose.
He releases me, and I scramble to my feet, facing him with a ready stance.
He holds his nose, his eyes watering. “Ouch,” he grunts.
Yesterday, he decided I needed a little more raising than the boys, since I’d found myself up at the lake alone with Terrance several days ago, and wanted to teach me some self-defense. Kaleb is off hunting, and Noah’s watching TV.
Jake sniffles and shakes it off, putting up his hands to go again.
“Why not just give me a gun?” I ask. “Isn’t that the mountain-man answer for everything?”
“Sure, once you put down your avocado toast.”
I laugh, shoving him in the chest. “I don’t eat that.”