Jessa James - Pretend I'm Yours

Well, frustrating, if I’m honest.

Actually, that’s not true. I did spend a whole day last week opening up the other side of the house, the one that basically sat empty for years. I was curious what I would find over there, so I opened all the doors and windows, disturbed all the dust bunnies and moths.

To my mild surprise, the other side of the house is decorated as a mirror image of mine. Green cabinets and green paisley wallpaper in the kitchen. A large living area with cobblestone floors, contrasting wildly with the low sitting butter-yellow couch and chairs. All the bathrooms done in objectionable shades of green, pink, and yellow.

I even went upstairs and found the same bedroom furniture, all cedar and teak, the bedspreads the same geometric patterns in browns and yellows. I did the same thing there that I did on my side; I pulled all the linens off the beds and replaced them with fresh new ones, right out of the package. I cleaned all the carpets, vacuumed all the drapes, and basically clean the hell out of every available surface.

Yeah, I will have to replace everything over there or get rid of it sooner or later, but for now it’s clean enough.

“Hey, Miss Lake!” a young boy calls.

I turn my head and shade my eyes against the sun. It’s Sam Rees, a ten year old regular at my library. He’s wearing a little league uniform.

“Hey Sam. How’s it going?” I ask.

“Good,” he says. “I’m gonna go play baseball.”

“Well, that’s awesome!” I say.

He scratches his head. “Yeah… I would rather be in the library, though. Are you going to be there tomorrow?”

“Yep!” I crow. “Bright and early, to get everything ready for you guys.”

Sam grins. “Okay, good. See you then, Miss Lake!”

“Bye, Sam,” I call down, but he’s already taken off in the direction of the town’s baseball field.

I chip the last bit of black crud off that I can reach, and then start to climb down the ladder. As I pass the upstairs window, I’m sort of startled to see my personal zoo assembled there, watching and waiting.

Muffin stares at me intently through her one good eye, her little feline tail twitching. Zack and Morris are my two lab mixes with six legs between them; they both bark and pant excitedly when I tap on the glass. Sadie is my most special dog — she’s a blind and deaf Malamute, and she’s currently got her head cocked, trying to understand why Zack and Morris are excited.

I smile as I descend the ladder. They’re all considered broken in some way, but that makes them all the more precious to me. When I get to the ground, I see a tall, dark-haired man about my age coming toward me. He’s carrying a little girl that I judge to be about two. She has darker hair, but there is something about their bone structure that marks them as related.

I glance left and right, making sure that the man intends to talk to me. There isn’t anyone in sight, so I square my shoulders. As the man gets closer, I see that he’s so much taller than I am. There’s at least a foot and a half between the tops of our heads.

Not only that, but he’s a grade-A hunk , I admit to myself. Dark eyebrows sloping over bright green eyes, high cheekbones, broad lips, a day’s worth of scruff. He’s dressed casually, in jeans and a black hoodie, plus military-style black boots. And his body is blush-worthy. He’s muscular and big all over.

Yikes.

“Hi,” I say, keeping my tone light and friendly.

He hitches up the little girl on his hip, stopping in front of me. I examine her briefly; she’s wearing a light gray hoodie and navy leggings, plus a pair of black shoes.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m Charlie Lawson.”

The timbre of his voice is unexpectedly deep and rough. It gives me a chill of excitement down my spine. I feel bad suddenly for whoever’s husband I am clearly lusting after.

Well, not too bad. They do get to sleep with him at night.

“Larkin Lake,” I say, extending my hand. He bounces the little girl, then takes it. When his fingers clasp mine, I feel a little jolt of electricity. He drops my hand quickly.

“This is my daughter, Sarah,” he says. “Say hi, Sarah.”

The little girl laughs, showcasing a dazzling smile. “Hiiiiiiiii.”

I laugh. “Hi, Sarah!”

“We were eating lunch at Dot’s Diner over there,” he says, jerking his head to where the diner is visible on the far side of the grass. “And I asked where I could rent someplace around here. The lady that waited on me said to talk to you, said you have a place.”

I turn around, squinting up at my house. I do have a place, but it’s not exactly public knowledge. That will teach me to think I can air out one side of my house in this town and not have everybody and their sister know it right away.

“I do,” I say slowly. “It’s sort of a throwback, though. Everything was installed in the seventies.”

“Is it clean?” he asks, his brows hunching.

“Well, yes.”

“Yes,” Sarah mimics, looking proud of herself.

He doesn’t react, just bounces her on his hip again.

“Does it have two bedrooms?” he asks.

I bite my lip before replying. “It has three. Do you… do you want to see it?”

He narrows his gaze for a second, maybe trying to decide on my trustworthiness. “Sure.”

I turn and lead them up the steps to the second entrance, built to mirror the first. It’s not as grand as the original, the door plain old solid wood whereas mine is leaded glass. The two entrances are separated by a wall, so that each has its own private half of the porch.

“I’ll be right back,” I say to Charlie, who just jogs Sarah on his hip. “I have to get the keys from my place.”

I run down the steps and up to my door. The keys are on a hook just inside, hung above my neatly arranged rows of coats on their hooks and rain boots on the floor.

I grab them and make my way back to Charlie and Sarah. I hold up the keys as evidence that I was successful, but he doesn’t even blink.

“So, uh… are you moving here with your… partner?” I ask as I unlock the door, swinging it open wide.

“Par-nuh,” Sarah repeats. I smile at her.

“That’s right, I said partner,” I coo at her.

I’m pretty sure he’s straight, but you know what they say about assumptions. We move inside, taking in the open layout of the living area.

“No,” Charlie says, in a forbidding tone that doesn’t beg for any follow up questions. “Just me and Sarah.”

“Ah,” I nod, cringing internally.

I’m noticing that Charlie doesn’t feel a need to fill the long pauses between his words with idle chatter. Not like me; I feel more anxious by the second when there is just silence.

With that and the look of his boots, I guess that he’s former military. My dad was in the military, when I was a little girl. He carried himself in a similar way, his eyes always constantly moving.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you moving to Pacific Pines for?” I say.

“I want to be closer to family,” he replies. He jostles Sarah on his hip, his attention moving toward the kitchen.

I follow him as he makes his way through the first floor. “And what do you do for a living?”

He opens up one of the green cabinets, and finds it empty.

“I work for myself,” he says. “Money isn’t an issue.”

My brows rise. “Oh?”

“Down,” Sarah says, tugging on Charlie’s shirt. “Down.”

He glances around, then sets her down. “Do you mind watching her for a second so I can look at the bedrooms?”

I look at Sarah, who walks over to the kitchen cabinets and begins opening and closing one of the lower ones. “Sure, no problem.”