Falling (6 page)

JASON

Oh, Lord. Just Help Me Get Through the Day Without Embarrassing Myself

The first group of snowmachiners came in last night, Thursday, and I’m up early to start the weekend. I’m booked up, and really hoping Dana can keep up because I need Boz’s help in the kitchen.

I flip over the sausages and Dana flounces in wearing painted on jeans that ride low on her waist, and her lodge T-shirt knotted up to show a strip of very toned stomach, which isn’t even as good as the thin strip of skin across her back. The bruising on her side is almost unnoticeable.

“Shit!” I hiss as my hand gets too close to the griddle. I gotta pay attention.

“You okay?” Dana’s got a smirk that says she knows exactly what distracted me.

I’m definitely going to need to stay focused today. Instead of answering, I point to her outfit with my spatula. “You know this is a family place.”

“We’ll earn more in tips, trust me.” She shrugs, her very straight, shiny hair hanging down at right about breast level.

I spin back to the griddle. I cannot be watching her like this unless I want to be half hard all day, which I don’t. It’s been way too long since I’ve been with someone. That’s all it is. I dislike her on principle—the Craig issue. And I dislike her because I’ve spent too much time around people her type—smart, spoiled, and probably proud of both of those attributes.

Dana wanders into the almost empty dining area, which I can see half of from the kitchen, and stops at one of the bulletin boards of photos.

“That’s Jason there, with his brothers.” Boz stops behind her.

Great. Not what I need. She’ll probably start to give me crap over my beard now, too. At least Justine isn’t here. Though if she were, I might not have to be dealing with Dana.

“Here?” Dana sounds disbelieving. And I really shouldn’t be listening.

“Yeah.” Boz laughs. “Right there.”

“Wow.” She shifts her weight, which I also shouldn’t notice. If she’d just cover up that damn strip of skin. “If he can look like
that
, why does he have the beard?”

“I’d imagine it has something to do with the ex-wife.” Boz chuckles.

Dammit. I don’t need this girl knowing anything about me.

“Morning, Boz!” I shout in an attempt to break up their conversation.

Boz jumps and walks my way. Dana stands there, still looking over the photo wall, hands on hips while me, and all four guys at table eight stare at her.

Dana surprises me all damn day. She’s good with orders, great with customers, and pulls in three times as much money in tips as Boz, Justine or me. She cleans tables, does dishes, and she walks through the day like she’s the only contestant on a game show and knows she’s going to win.

The guys ogle her, but the women still like her, and by Friday night, I’m a bit amazed, and maybe. Almost. Glad she’s here.

“Tomorrow might be a problem if you’re as quiet as you were today,” she says as she empties out the dishwasher, putting dishes away like she’s lived here her whole life.

“I wasn’t aware I was being quiet.” Only I was completely aware, because I didn’t want to stare at her. Don’t want her to know I’m glad she’s here. She’s already a contradiction in my mind because there’s this hard-working side of her, but I feel like it’s all an act. Which is fine, because it’s getting the job done, but can anybody really just float through life this way?

I know she has to be a million miles out of her element here, and yet she’s here, and working like it’s what she’s always done. Probably she’s just smart. And gorgeous. And stupid about men because any smart girl should be able to see through Craig in a heartbeat.

“You didn’t know you were being quiet?” Her brows rise. “Is that a joke?”

Irritation flashes through me. “You did great today. Thank you. I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” I drop the dishtowel on the counter and head for my door.

Dana’s silent behind me.

Good.

Better.

She’s right. I am quiet, and she can be quiet, and then I’ll have less reason to be any kind of conflicted about her because she’ll continue to be the girl who is almost definitely having sex with my cousin’s husband. And is a cookie cutter spoiled girl from the city. I don’t need or want to be friendly with either.

“Okay.” Boz flops his feet onto the coffee table in my apartment. “I get that you don’t like Dana.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I fold my arms.

“You’re acting like a woman. Cut that shit out. Either tell her you want her out, or just deal with her.”

I sigh. “It’s Craig, and…”

“And your prejudices against anyone who has any resemblance to ‘the kind of people you left school to get away from.’” And he actually uses air quotes.

“I’m not that bad.” I shake my head.

“You were a grade-A jerkoff, and she worked her ass off for you.”

I rub my forehead a few times. “I’ll tone it down, but Taylor’s—”

“Then tell Taylor. Talk to Craig. Talk to Dana. But don’t pull the passive-aggressive BS.” Boz plays with the ends of his beard. “You know you love me.” He laughs a belly laugh before standing up. “It’s that she seemed to get through the weekend okay, but no one would have been unaffected, Jase. You were almost silent. It was an asshole move. You’re better than that.”

“Shit, Boz. Now you sound like my mom. Done with the lecture?”

“Yep.” He stands up and rubs his stomach. “I’m headed home. Got another post office run coming up.”

“Don’t those little old ladies get suspicious?” It’s not a real post office, just a contract station, but still. He’s there a lot.

“No way, man.” He grins. “Those little old ladies love me.”

Leave it to Boz. And I’m still not sure where I stand on the whole Dana thing, but maybe I came across worse than I thought. Maybe.

DANA

Week. Weak. Whatever.

By Monday things are slow, and on Tuesday it’s dead. I figure that cleaning up and doing all the “chores” Jason laid out for me last week will keep me busy, but I realize I’ll finish in a morning. Then what?

I tell Jason I’m going to do one last check of the cabins outside, and he grunts in response.

This sucks. If I’m going to be stuck out here, it would be nice if we could at least talk a little. Be civil. Without meaning to, I’m blinking back tears as I step outside. I must be really tired because it’s not like me to be this emotional. So what if he doesn’t like me? It doesn’t matter.

Boz waves as I make my way across the yard.

“Hey, Dana.”

“Hey.” I wave back.

“You did good last weekend.” He nods once.

“Thanks.” I’m not sure where he’s going with this.

“Jason will loosen up. Don’t let him get to you.” Boz shrugs as if in partial apology for his friend.

I feel even more emotional after that simple comment. Maybe it’s bothered me more than I even let myself think about. And did Boz get me that fast? I pride myself on being impossible to read. I just nod once, clenching my jaw to push back tears. I’m completely unconvinced about Jason. I don’t want it to matter. But when we’re the only two people in the place, it definitely does.

After Tuesday and Wednesday of near silence, and me sneaking down for bowls of cereal when I’m hungry, I’m sort of sick of tiptoeing around here. When I walk into the living room, Jason is catching up on episodes of
The Daily Show
. I decide that Jason is a puzzle, and I want to know why he ditched Oxford for this. Is he hiding? Did he chicken out? Is he lying? And this not talking stuff is bullshit.

“So,
The Daily Show
, huh?” I ask. “Doesn’t it seem a little pointless to watch a show about what’s going on in the rest of the world when you don’t actually live in it?” I try to keep my voice nice, light.

“You have
Project Runway
,
America’s Next Top Model,
and something called
Say Yes to the Dress
set to record. Does that sound right?” He’s mocking.

“You think you have me all figured out.” I’m bored, tired, and a little annoyed. He gave me a once over when I got here and a snap judgment to go with it. I worked hard last weekend and it hadn’t made any difference.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

“It does to me,” I insist. Am I picking a fight because I’m bored?

“I spent four years of college at Yale. There were a lot of people there like you. Smart and spoiled.” He turns back to the TV. Again, he’s not snotty or snooty. He’s just stating fact.

Whatever. It isn’t even that bad of an insult. I
am
smart and spoiled. I can’t help it, and it’s not like I’m going to go out of my way to stop it. I have a degree from an Ivy League school that has already accepted me for my master
’
s. I own my house outright, and I drive a great car. Well, I did drive a great car until it got nearly totaled. There are worse things. At least I recognize it.

“So, that’s why you don’t like me?” I ask. It shouldn’t matter what Jason thinks. He’s kind of nobody. I’m hoping to not be here much longer, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never see him again after I leave.

He looks at me as if deciding something and then takes a breath out, letting his shoulders fall. “Craig’s wife is my cousin, and a good friend of mine.”

It’s like someone shoved a lead ball in my stomach. He knows full well what’s going on. I don’t say anything. It’s the second time I’ve gotten a twinge of uncertainty about what I’m doing with Craig, only it’s way more than a twinge. Jason turns back to the TV.

My heart starts to pound, pushing a lump in my throat.

His words make me wonder how truthful Craig was about he and his wife. Are they together and fine? Well, they’re not
fine
. Not if he’s with me. Is he with her, too? My stomach sinks in.

Okay. Too heavy. Too much.

I need to lose myself in something inconsequential. I don’t want to think about what I should or shouldn’t be doing. I head over to popsugar.com and immerse my brain in trashy celebrity gossip. It’s the perfect antidote to the grungy lodge.

Craig’s out to see me, as promised, but his two days are flying by way too fast. He’ll leave for home tonight. And if I thought Jason was grouchy before, it’s nothing compared to now. It’s fine because I avoid him as much as he avoids me.

The problem is that every time he purposefully doesn’t look at me, I feel a tinge of uncertainty about what I’m doing with Craig, that’s immediately followed by a flash of anger. Craig started this, and to say that sex with him is good would be a ridiculous understatement. He’s barely with his wife, and anyway, I don’t want anything long-term. This is not Jason’s business.

Crowds should start coming in to rent cabins tomorrow, and Jason hasn’t spoken to me once since Craig arrived. Instead he’s typing away frantically on his computer. Again.

I stare at him for a while
over my laptop
to see if he’ll notice, but he doesn’t. What is the guy working on?

The sound of snowmachines goes by on the trail below the lodge, and I peer out the window wondering if Craig and his group are back, but it’s someone else, so I sit back.

The lodge phone rings and I jump.

Jason stands up to get it. He mumbles into the phone, glances over at me and disappears into his apartment.

Heart hammering, I
eject my thumb drive and
move quietly over to his computer. I can’t help myself. It looks like he’s writing something. I look back over my shoulder to Jason’s door and make a split second decision. I
slide in my thumb drive in his computer
and save the parent file to whatever document he has on screen. I make it back to my seat just as he walks out of his apartment.

Wow. That was close. I take a few deep breaths as I try to stop the shaking in my hands from almost being caught.

I keep staring at my computer and slide the drive into the USB port. The file is called
Jason’s Writing
.  Jason is a writer, or more likely,
wants
to be a writer. Hmm. I’m wondering if I should open it and read, or if I want to or if I care aside from being nosy when I hear a group drive up and stop.  The timing is right for Craig. I try not to leap to attention, but Jason glances at me as I stand, and then frowns.

I feel another pang of guilt but brush it aside as Craig comes in the door, looking snowy, flushed and really, really sexy.

My midweek is pretty nice.

Friday morning, Craig’s gone, and there’s nothing left to do to prepare for the weekend. I’m wandering back down the stairs when I hear Jason’s voice.

“Justine. It’s Jason.” I immediately sit down on the steps. I want to hear how he is with his little sister. With my brief interactions with Jason, I’m guessing he’s a lot like Keith—over-protective and bossy.