Page 11 of The Love You Hate
“What is it?” he asks.
I meet his eyes so I can test them for lies. “Are you here to kill me?” I lock eyes with his. I want to see exactly what he is thinking before he has a chance to think.
My question takes him aback.
“Is that a joke?”
“No. I have enemies.” My tone is dead serious. “I’d be a fool if I took every person I met on the street at face value.”
“Do I look like I want to kill you? And if I did, wouldn’t it make more sense to let the dogs attack you?” He shakes his head, but realizes he didn’t answer my question directly. “No. I do not want to kill you. Now I realize you might be crazier than I first thought, though. Why would people want to kill you? Or did you mean that figuratively?”
I hold up one finger, as I follow him out onto the deck. The view is breathtaking. “You could be luring me into a false sense of security. The dog attack wouldn’t have killed me. You’re saving it up to make sure the kill is done right. You could be working the slow game.” I lean against the railing that looks to be new. “I didn’t mean it figuratively. I do have enemies and a past that isn’t super rosy. I might have been a little dramatic. Causing great bodily harm might suffice? They probably don’t want to kill me.” Though, some do, for sure.
“Sounds complicated,” Nate says, sinking down into one of the patio chairs.
“Like your relationship sounds complicated? Kind of how you seem to be good at a bunch of weird things type of complicated?”
closes his eyes, and I hate that I notice how the sunset is stretching across his face highlighting an amazing bone structure and skin tone that any person would envy. Clenching my teeth, I turn away. “Keeping my life as simple as possible is one of my life’s mottos.”
“What are your other life mottos?” I ask.
Nate cracks one eye. “Never underestimate anyone.”
I toss my head back and forth. “That one is everyone’s life motto. What’s another one? A good one?” Killing me isn’t on his agenda today. I’m certain of it by the casual way he’s relaxing, and showing me his neck if you will.
“I don’t really have any other life mottos. You seem like someone who has plenty. What do you need mine for?” He closes his eye, and a few seconds later the orange glow of the sunsets dips away from his cheek. “My new one will be to stay the fuck away from junkyards.”
I wince even though he can’t see me. “Do you have anything for the pain? I’m sorry.”
“Not sorry enough to stay away from junkyards and adopt my motto though?”
Smirking, I say, “Do you have something against Jake? Before today and the attack I mean.”
“Guess not,” Nate replies. “Nice enough boy with big tough dogs to do his job for him.” It’s crazy how cold it gets in Colorado as soon as the sun sets. I’m used to L.A. sweater weather at night, but it’s downright frigid here when the sun vanishes behind the mountains. “If you won’t adopt that motto, you should adopt the other one. About not underestimating anyone when it comes to Jake. He may be your most attractive option but he could also be a bad person.”
“And you care why?”
Nate shrugs. “We’re friends now, right?”
“Coworkers. Acquaintances. I’m still not sure you won’t off me when I’m not looking.”
He laughs, and try as I might, the draw to see his smile wins out and I glance at him again. “I wouldn’t call us friends. Even if you did take teeth for me. I need to make sure we stay on the up-and-up.”
Nate stands and strides to stand next to me on the expansive deck. “Whatever you say,” he says, sighing. He leans on the railing with his good arm. He’s distracted by pinging in his pocket. He checks his watch and then slides the phone out, slanting it so I can’t see the screen. I wouldn’t expect him to tell me anything about his text or who it is, but it’s weird how he makes an effort to keep my eyes off it.
“Important bakery business,” I joke, sliding away from him to give him more privacy. Also, because there’s a patch of grass that reminds me of my bucket list.
Nate approaches after he sends the text. “Just a friend checking in. We do live in the middle of nowhere.”
I point. “That grass over there. Think it would make a good garden?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Garden? Why would I want to plant a garden?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “Not now. I don’t have any space at my house. It butts up to my neighbor’s trailer and my backyard is nothing but forest.” Pointing again, I say, “This would be the perfect garden area with its southern exposure.”
“Are you claiming my yard as your garden? After you called me a coworker instead of a friend?”
“If you let me plant a garden here, I’ll know you don’t want to kill me.”
